Closer To The Sun [Poly] [Bi]

5 - Nora

Q.O.T.D – If you were richer than sin, what would be in your house?

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🌿 . 🌼 . 🌿

It was all downhill from there. Literally.

The MacGowans lived at the top of a hill that overlooked all of Soledad, Colorado. They had about six neighbors, all separated by vast acres of sagebrush and blue-yellow alpine grass. The landscape was dotted with the odd putting green, or swimming pool, or high-stacked rock wall, if the owners were particularly unfriendly. A couple of joggers passed Nora, huffing and puffing on the incline, and paid Nora no mind.

Soledad, Colorado was no stranger to the wealthy, who sat along a sliding scale anywhere from moderately wealthy to obscenely wealthy. If Nora Buchanan's dad and stepmom were rich, it was nothing to the MacGowan's outrageous, four-story wealth. The Buchanans were wine coolers in a jacuzzi tub rich. They were hassle-the-flight-attendant in first class rich. Cherry red convertible with vanity plates rich.

Meanwhile, the MacGowans were home bowling alley rich. Foie gras at après ski rich. Personal hotline to their favorite congressperson rich.

Nora walked the forty-five minutes down the hill, taking careful steps on out-of-shape legs.

Not out-of-shape, she forcibly corrected herself, just out of practice. You are not out of shape. This is winter weight. From the past... five or six winters. Happens to the best of us.

Nora rarely traveled by foot; she preferred to bum rides off her friends or older sister. Walking was a reminder of how little she walked, so she hardly ever walked. It was a cycle that agreed with itself.

The landscape leveled out near the bottom of the hill, and Nora's thighs breathed a sigh of relief. Down here, the houses were packed more tightly together – these were the type of wealthy who had nothing better to do than show off to each other, rather than the type of wealthy one-thousand vertical feet up the road, who were more concerned with privacy than ornamentation. The houses here rose above one another, with turrets, flagpoles, and massive wrought-iron gates. Nora's own house sat at the end of the cul-de-sac, where snooty neighbors jostled for street parking and her stepmom sunbathed on the lawn just to ensure everyone would see her.

Nora hesitated as she stared down the wooded street that led to her family's house. She forced her legs to keep walking and leave her parents' street behind.

Every step farther from home and closer to town made Nora feel better; it reminded her that although spring break was nearly over, summer break was only a few short weeks away. 

Callum would be here to stay. The thought brought mixed feelings; the sweetness of memories, mixed with the bitterness of their recent fights.

She reminded herself that this last fight hadn't been an ordinary fight. This wasn't overly expensive dinners, or small misunderstandings, or bruised egos lashing out.

Callum's words rang in her head: "What? Nora, this isn't on me. This is–"

Nope, she thought. Nope nope nope nope. I'm not going to think about it. I'm not.

Nora kept walking until she reached the modest neighborhood where her Aunts lived. Here, the houses weren't trying to be anything, and neither were the people. Nora felt comfortable here. She had more fond memories of this neighborhood than of her own house.