Bora Bora Bora

17: A trace of her smell

Lorna's POV

I wake up to Alex poking my shoulder. She and Piper are standing over my bed.

"Wakey wakey, Sleepyhead. Breakfast's almost over and Mommas are not about to let you miss another meal," Alex says.

Frieda, who was passing by, stops to peek into my bunk and say
"That's gonna be hard if there's no Nichols for her to have for breakfast."

"GO AWAY!" Alex and Piper yell in unison. Frieda chuckles and continues her way.

Piper looks at me and takes my hand, "Don't listen to that nasty old bag. Some of us have a habit of using dark humor to deal with shit."

"That's okay," I say, sitting up in my bed. It's not okay, but nothing else is, either. So what do I care.

I rub my eyes. My eyelids are heavy from crying and I feel drained in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep.

"Thanks for staying with me last night, Al," I mutter.

"No problem. Thanks for all the snot in my pajamas," she smiles.

I try to laugh, but a strangled sob is all that comes out. She puts a hand on my thigh.

"You don't have to cry about it! I'm soo used to it by now!"

Piper raises her eyebrows at her, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alex looks at her. "Piper, have you seen me? I'm like a giant teddy bear, but hot. Believe me, it's not the first time a girl leaves snot-or other substances- on my shirt."

Piper looks at me with her eyebrows still raised and her mouth slightly open, as if she can't believe what she's hearing. I smile through fresh tears.

"Moving on," she says, shaking her head, "we just wanted to check on you before going to work, we've both got early shifts today. Will you be okay going to breakfast on your own?"

"Yeah...yes," I nod. I won't be, but again, I won't be okay anytime soon, so I might as well start getting used to it.

"Alright then. We'll see you for lunch."

Piper squeezes my hand and Alex kisses my head and then they both walk out. I pick up the clothes I left laying in the floor last night. These are what I was wearing the last time I saw Nicky. I hold the shirt up to my nose, searching for a trace of her smell. And yes, there it is, hidden between layers of my perfume. I hug the dirty shirt to my chest before throwing it on. I take a look at my make up, neatly lined up for me to use, and it takes me a second to realize I don't have the strength to put any of it on today.

Just one of the many things that never happened to me B.N.

I throw a sweatshirt over my shoulders and drag my feet towards the cafeteria, feeling (and probably looking) like a ghost.

I ignore the looks people give me and line up to get some food I'm probably not going to eat. There's a cold space wherever Nicky's presence is missing, not just in my bed. Now it's the spot behind me in this line. I feel like ice cold fingers are tickling me and holding my waist, the way hers used to do whenever she was standing behind me.

Dayanara pops a spoonful of mush on my plate. I look at it, feeling my stomach clenching up. She's not here to joke about how disgusting it looks.

Shit, I'm crying again. I grab the napkin from my tray to use as a tissue and set it down. Gina, who was just ahead of me, turns around.

"Hey,hey, it's... Nicky will be okay," she says, awkwardly patting my shoulder.

"How do you know?" I ask, hoping with all my heart that somehow she does know, and she'll give me an answer and finally I will be able to stop crying.

"I...I don't-it's just...a thing people say, right?"

I collapse into sobs. Norma walks up to us and holds me against her chest.

"I'll take your tray," Gina says.

They walk me to a table and Gina sits next to me. She pats my shoulder as I cry over my untouched food. Norma hurries to the kitchen and returns a few seconds later, with Red behind her.

I look up at the tough Russian woman that has taken care of me and my wife ever since we got here. For a moment she just stands there, looking back at me. She's in better shape than me, but barely. She's not wearing any make up, either, and her bright red hair is puffy and patted down against her head, instead of spiky. But that's not what's making her look sadder than I've ever seen her. All the fierceness in her eyes has disappeared with Nicky.

"Oh, Lorna..."

She pulls me into a hug and I bury my face in her chest. She's the only person who might understand what I'm feeling right now.

"Shhhh..." she tries to calm me, putting a hand on my hair, even though she's crying too. She holds me and we cry together, and for a second, it's almost-almost okay.

Red pulls away and takes my face in her hands.

"Come with me," she says.
She takes my hand and we go inside the kitchen. The Latinas are already cleaning up breakfast.

Red stands over the counter and hands me a knife.

"Come on. How about we make ourselves some risotto. Help me slice the vegetables."

I take the knife with a trembling hand.

"And no drawing faces on this," she points at me with a carrot before placing it my hands.

I nod. She starts chopping an onion with fast and experts hands. I try to get started, but my shoulders are shaking so hard I have almost no control over my hands.

"You're gonna lose a finger if you don't stop crying like that," Red scolds me.

I put the knife down and lean against the counter. When you're heartbroken, it gets so hard to keep yourself up.

"I'm so angry at her, Red," I sob.

She puts an arm around me and I lean my head against her shoulder.

"I know. I know. I'm angry,too."

"H-how did I-I not see it?" I hiccup, "we m-m-missed it-"

"Shhh," she hushes, and I know she's been asking herself the same.

"She loves you so very much," she says, "and it's given me so much joy to see you love her back. But Lorna...you can't love someone out of addiction. No matter how hard you wish you could."

I want to tell Red that I know that, God do I know that, all my life I've learning that you can't love people out of anything, all you can do is loge them, and I promised Nicky I would do just that and God why God all I'm asking is for her to be here, so she will know that I still love her, no matter what.

But I can't tell Red all of that.

So I just nod and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
She holds me until my breathing slows down and there's only persistent, silent tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Ready to make some risotto?"

I nod, wiping away some tears. I take the knife and clumsily slice the vegetables she hands me.

"That looks horrible," she says after a while, "Remind me to never ask your help for a nice presentation."

A weird sound escapes my lips, but it's the closest to laughter I've achieved all day.

"You have an Italian mama. Didn't she teach you how to do this?"

For the first time since my wedding, I find myself thinking about my mother.

<<Flashback on the following chapter>>