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Just be sure to notice, that collateral beauty.
- The Difference between connection and urgent adolescence
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Courage - by Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
A child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby,
or poor or fatty or crazy,
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and you concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you,
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal,
that you kept swallowing.
Noora Amalie Sætre.
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Standing in her barely illuminated bedroom, Noora was sighting her image in the red framed mirror.
After her call with her parents this morning, and the Kosegruppe get together tonight,
she felt exhausted and a disconnected heartache.
___________________________________________
She could see her father in front of her, when she called them. Just to let them know that she was back in Oslo, finally.
After 7 months. Not that investigative interest would have met her while doing so, but nevertheless, she hadn’t had the
heart to let them know earlier that she was back. Because it meant something, even if they would not have been able to comprehend it.
The image in Nooras head when she heard their voices, almost being a photograph of their actual, typical appearances.
Standing close, being very present to the other ones appearance.
Her father, a tall and lean man, with his full grey-white hair well organized. Adjusting his horn-drimmed brown glasses
with one hand, then a little stroke under his nose. The other hand leaning against a chair, standing closely behind her mother.
No connection with his daughter, via phone or in person, leaving Noora irritated and uncomfortable.
„Hei.“
Her voice a mix of expectation and withholding retention, making it sound hesitant.
„Hello Noora.“
„Hei, Papa.“
A picture of her mother coming to mind. Looking at her, with the very same blonde waves, only longer.
A genuinely peculiar gaze in her eyes, as if she didn’t quite knew what exactly to do with the girl standing in front of her.
They had taken the news, with interest, but hadn’t asked further, or about William. Thankfully.
Noora had made the conclusion that the picture displayed by them of love, was unhealthy and consuming.
Spaceless for anybody else, and not something she wanted for herself, or to repeat.
Her resilience had made her conscious, but through that attention for her surroundings, came William.
Who she wanted to shut down so exceedingly in the beginning.
But she hadn’t.
And so the blonde had experienced her own version of her parents picture, and it had not worked out.
She remembered the moment William got out of the car once.
Arriving at school with Chris and the other guys, badly beaten, the day after their date.
Almost 2 years ago.
Chris and the other two, following him shortly, with obvious burst and chapped lips and blue eyes.
William didn’t look like them.
Because he had been on a date with her.
More or less pressured into.
He seemed calm, but in his eyes a hint of tiredness. A gaze up, not meeting hers.
But her eyes resting on his face while he walked past.
She had followed his body, by turning her own.
The first time a deeper emotion had hit her with his presence, on that day.
Until then, she was mostly wooed by his being. Despite every attempt not to be.
But he was alluring for her. His voice its own, and completely messing her up with bluntness and intensity, out of the blue,
sometimes. She had become curious, if she wanted to or not.
And then, on that day, she felt relief.
His face didn’t look like theirs. His eye not blue, bright purple or swollen.
She felt a surprising, deep relief in the pit of stomach.
_
Kissing Youssef in a spontaneous attempt to abruptly get William out of her system, did not give her
the pursued lighter feeling, or a better one, or anything but sickness.
After arriving at home that evening, and a long shower, Noora was left standing in front of the red mirror. Wet hair
tripping cold on her shoulders, soaking her sleep t-shirt. Slowly wiping the smudged lipstick off her mouth, leaving her
with reddish swollen lips. Her eyes absently following the movements.
She actually had kissed Youssef.
Staring back at her in the mirror was an impression of William in London.
Directly after he had opened the court dismissal letter. An unbelievable look in his face.
Grave incomprehension, and hurt.
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An anguish sigh coming from her lips, she walked over to her bed and slipped under the covers, her back falling
into the pillows. Dragging her (mercifully) into the memory, pushing away any further piercing pictures of Williams hand
trailing up and down a strangers’ spine.
_
He had stumbled outside the restaurant door, closely behind her, into a still warm and humid, lively London night.
Leaving his father and Nico behind.
When she got to the end of the concrete stairs, she let go of his hand and took the few steps till the end of the pavement.
He had stopped at the end of the stairs and watched her.
„Fyfaen, jeg elsker deg.“ he laughed out loud.
The blondes black long skirt swirling its transparent and embroidered, overlaying black tulle. Her body turning around in
his direction.
Excited laughing eyes, slightly hid by blonde waves, catching his own. And stopping time.
A red mouth trembling in a smile and excitement. Her eyes, caught by that smile, squeezed slightly and radiated at him.
They had quickly made their way out of the restaurant.
Away from more punches, gasping screams or awkward explanations.
In that moment old Noora peaked through. The one he saw only months ago, yet it felt longer.
Though he had knocked his brother forcefully of his chair, smashed his fist in Nicos face to be exact — and almost got a
broken nose while doing so, by a punch, actually raised in his own direction.
The older brother had only slightly touched the nose, but had crashed into Williams eye bone, full on.
Simply for shutting him up.
Just once, and especially for (Nicos nonchalant way of taking of about) his encounter with Noora.
Something had just snapped in William.
The pain had spawned all his anger in. Pure rage racing him forwards, forceful.
Noora hadn’t said one protesting word,
feeling something confusingly justifiable about her boyfriends move.
Dragging him lightly behind her, she had led them abruptly out of the restaurant. Stumbling trough
assemblies of dark red chairs, a euphoria building up between them.
William, while walking, holding his nose with one hand, in fear it might be broken, the other one in her tight grip.
_
The whole dinner was like a car crash happening.
She thought of Williams father eating totally oblivious his big beef steak.
Nico seemingly unattached or oblivious himself to the anger, grinning slightly.
„I’m glad you guys managed this situation as you did.“ His father said.
The fork with a bite of Kobe-Beef steering in the direction of his opened mouth.
„I’m glad it didn’t upset you“ William replied dry.
His father raising his eyes shortly up at him, with dominating arched eyebrows, then turned his
concentration back to cutting the next piece of meat.
„Come on.“ he chuckled
„Do you see what I’m dealing with daily? You see it! You know it!
You know stuff like that doesn’t really matter enough in this shitshow to upset me.“
His face seemed to mean it in a big gesture.
He obviously was infallible. In his expensive broker suit, in this fancy restaurant, with these important people around them.
Nooras hand squeezing Williams tightly under the table. Her eyes searching for his, a small kind and encouraging smile on her lips.
______________________________________________
Everything had been miserable in the last 2 months.
But on this evening, after this situation, they were catapulted out of their tedious everyday rut;
and their looks for each other, obvious to people walking by on the pavement outside of the restaurant.
"Joa?"
Her raised eyes seemingly asking a rhetorical question, laughing at him, pulling him out of his stare.
He laughed back at her.
„Yes!“
In a slight move he reached out his hand inviting her to meet him.
Her smile, being lifted up by her chin, her teeth biting on her lower lip.
A whole corner.
One singular, whole corner, was the minimal distance they were able to make.
Until they stumbled, almost falling, into a narrow back-exit space, between two bars.
A red and blue neon sign letting the darkness appear purple and vibrating.
Nose to nose walking backwards, until a wall, messily coated across, caught them.
She laid her straightened arms on his shoulders, crossing her hands behind his head lazily.
Resting her forehead on his.
„Hey you“ a smile trough her lashes, up at him.
„Hi.“ hushed, as his lips caught hers. Soft skin and tongues brushing.
His warmth pressing against her whole body, leaving her remarkably content.
She caressed his cheek with her own, catching every smooth and bristly part of skin.
He could feel her hips and stomach. She hadn’t moved like this in so long, and it made him unsound.
He felt it in his kisses, in his hands, moving up and down above her shirt, his breathing, way too fast.
He kissed her hard, and it hit her with something inside.
There it was, her love for him,
without despair, or angst. Simple, and flowing over her lips, feeling his.
Letting her gasp out husky, and pulling him in closer.
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Later, back at the loft he seemed to be infatuated with parts of her. Her whole body in general that night.
Trailing the line of her spine. Caressing knees while she sat on the counter top, between his hips, tugged in closely.
Another thing, making a forgotten appearance this night.
Their one-piece, slate slabs kitchen counter top.
Their early London times, go-to-place, when stumbling in late at night, being amused and needy.
His chest, leaned forwards, following hers. Hands nestling down on buttons of her blouse.
She had warped an arm around his neck, being held tightly by her other one on his shoulder. She shrugged her shoulders high,
sighed and pulled him in close. Her whole chest felt like a pull into that kiss.
His fingertips everywhere. On her knees and hips. Hands which had laid there so many times, without him
realizing their features more carefully.
Sitting so close on buses next to her, in the car further away, but still in reach.
In bed, her curled up body pressed against his chest, leaving his arms wrapped around her, holding her legs and knees tightly.
In Love,
but also in agony when she laid silently and unmoved next to him. In the darkness of their London bedroom,
after another failed attempt to get close again through their warm bodies.
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Nooras eyes flying open, a shocked gasp and moaned sigh coming from her mouth.
Shit, shit.
She leaned forwards in her bed, taking in air. Her pulse racing.
This was why she didn’t do that.
Waking up from such memories left her falling. Stairs in dreams down like.
She looked up and around in her room.
Everything was still standing in it. Same place.
The blonde twitched her eyes, it looked different now than before she left for London with him.
There were no time left, and if she should have been honest, no motivation to decorate it.
In the last weeks she had slowly been touching the floor outside of her bubble; but today, and tonight, it had disappeared
and had brought her right back to Heathrow Airport. On that numb, wet October morning.
She was convinced, that leaving London and him, had to happen. She couldn’t think in this fog of feelings and grey anymore.
But than his Email had arrived.
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The blonde laid back again and curled up in her bed. Exhausted and feeling her whole chest cramp, the air in her room
seeming too thin to breath in. She sunk under duvets and into soft white pillows.
Sana’s face, from earlier coming to her mind.
_
Noora had gasped in air, short but deep, looking down at her friend in total disbelief.
Her ears shrilling in mute- and numbness.
„William has a new girlfriend“
All the desperately sucked in air, let go at once.
Her jaw clenching shortly.
Utterly and profoundly shaken. If love and hurt disbelief would collide, his name would be in the middle.
Sana’s body had moved in an averting manner and her face had avoided Nooras shortly, but then met her eyes again.
Realization washing over the Blonde.
„Did you know?“. Nooras voice imploding.
Her head, slightly shaking.
„You knew this ?“
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Noora basically jumped out of her bed in an attempt outrun her mind, and left her room. To follow the sound of
Eskilds voice into living room.