CHAPTER SEVEN

Nora woke up, Caleb's note..."I love you, Mickey Mouse" stuck in her head. She felt tired, confused, and not hungry, but she wasn't staying in bed. She had to keep moving. She grabbed her dad's diary, its leather soft as her hand touches it, and wrote: Guitar class, 11–2. Cooking class, 3:30–6:30. Plan Caleb's burial. Stay strong. Don't break.

She opened her closet, full of black clothes..

jeans, shirts, a dress Caleb liked. Today, she chose a floral playsuit which was a gift from Lila, pink and yellow, short sleeves, tight at the waist. It felt new. She put it on, added red lipstick, and fixed her blonde bob. The pendant from Caleb hung at her neck, heavy but hers. She checked the mirror, eyes tired, but ready...and went downstairs.

The kitchen was busy. Her mom flipped pancakes at the stove, apron messy with flour. Ellie whisked eggs, humming out of tune, the pan sizzling with butter. The air smelled of vanilla and syrup, plates clinking.

"Whoa, what's that?" Ellie said, stopping her whisk when Nora walked in. "Flowers? Where's our black-clothes Nora?"

Her mom turned, spatula in hand. "Nora, you're so colorful! It's… different. So un-Nora. You okay?"

Nora smirked, pouring black coffee, plain and strong. "I'm fine. Wanted a change. Don't make it a big deal." She set her mug exactly in the middle of the counter, nudging it to be perfect.

Ellie grinned, grabbing orange juice, its sweet smell all cheery like her. "Big? You're a flower shop now. Next, you'll wear glitter."

"Never," Nora said, sitting down. She took a plate, stacking three pancakes neatly, pouring syrup in careful circles. "These better be good, Ellie. You know I don't eat junk."

"Rude!" Ellie said, tossing a napkin at her. It landed on Nora's plate. "My eggs are great. Right, Mom?"

Her mom slid fluffy eggs onto the table, laughing. "They're okay, better than last time. But your dad's pancakes were the best. Remember his smiley face that looked like a scary clown? It literally refused to smile no matter how he tried."

Nora chuckled, thinking of her dad's goofy grin, flour on his face. "Yeah, he called it 'art.' Such a liar."

"Genius you mean..." Ellie said, stealing a pancake bite. "So, what's your day like? You're all fancy. What's the secret?"

Nora's fork stopped, her mind on Caleb's burial. "Guitar class, cooking class, and… planning Caleb's memorial. That's pretty much it so I'd say busy." She fixed her plate so it was straight, tapping her fingers.

Ellie's voice softened. "That's a lot, Nora. I can skip taking Mom to the library if you need help."

"No, I'm good," Nora said, her tone sharp. She lined up her fork and knife evenly. "You do your doctor stuff. Save the world or whatever."

"Wow, harsh," Ellie said, fake-hurt. "I'm saving lives and looking cute while at at." She playfully sticked out her tongue.

"Mom, your go."

"Library storytime," her mom said, adding pancakes. "Kids and messy glitter. Nora, you'll call if it's too much, okay?"

"Sure," Nora said, her smile small. They ate fast, joking and clinking plates. Ellie tried to grab another pancake, and Nora swatted her. "Thief!" she said, laughing. "Get your own!"

Urgggh

"Gotta run!" Ellie shouted, grabbing her bag. Her mom kissed Nora's cheek, saying, "You're doing great, sweetie." They left, and Nora locked the door, the house quiet.

Outside, San Francisco was loud...cable cars rang, cars honked, vendors yelled about coffee and food. Nora got in her car, seats cool against her playsuit, and turned on the radio. A song Caleb liked played. She took a picture of herself, the playsuit bright, and posted it on Instagram: New day, new start. Here we go. She wanted to keep track of her days.The music school was a loft in the Mission District. Brick walls had band posters, and it smelled like wood and old coffee. Guitars were everywhere. Theo, the teacher, had a messy bun and a plaid shirt. He handed Nora a used guitar. "You play?" he asked."My ex acted like a music star," Nora said, sarcastic like her dad. "I learned some to shut him up." She fixed the strap perfectly.

Theo laughed. "Okay, show me." Nora touched the strings, remembering Caleb's lessons, his hands on hers, his smile when she got it. She played a G chord, then D, clean and steady, even with the noisy class. A kid with braces played "Twist and Shout" awfully. Nora leaned over, grinning. "You're hurting that guitar. Hold it lighter or it'll quit."

The kid blushed, but everyone laughed, and the room got fun. Theo clapped. "Nora, you're good. Try this." He showed her "Blackbird," its notes hard. Nora slipped once, ugh, and sat straighter, fixing her fingers until every note was right. By 1:30, she played it well and helped others."You're quick," Theo said, nodding. "With the pace you're going, you'll be teaching me soon."

"Please don't tempt me," Nora said while rolling her eyes, wiping the guitar clean, no smudges. A shy woman, Priya, asked, "How'd you learn so fast? I'm stuck."

"Practice and being stubborn," Nora said, smiling. "My ex said I couldn't. I proved him wrong." Priya laughed.

By 2, she was in her car, working on Caleb's burial. Her stomach hurt as she called the community center. "I need a room for a memorial, next Friday," she said, her voice firm. "Small, for 20 people. Does the projector work?"

The guy, Carl, wasn't sure. "It's iffy, but…"

"It needs to work," Nora said, writing in her diary, circling the time. "It's for pictures. Make sure." She called Reverend Patel to lead it. "He had no family," Nora said, her throat tight. "Just me, a neighbor, friends. Keep it simple, less religious."

She told the flower shop, "White lilies, two bunches, fresh. Deliver by 10 a.m." They said, "We'll try," and Nora got mad. "It's important, trying won't quite cut it" she said, calling again to check. She looked at her list, making sure everything was perfect.

She texted Maya and Lila: Burial planning is tough. Can you do invites and music? I'm stressed.Maya replied fast: Got you. I'm emailing his work friends and that bar he loved. That playsuit? You're too cute! Who's this girl?

Lila wrote: I'll pick songs...Bowie, his favorite band. You okay? Love the playsuit. I'm super Proud.

Nora smiled and typed, Thanks, losers. Playsuit's not here to stay, chill and enjoy it while it lasts. To the moon and back.

Maya said: No way! Keep it up, you're pretty. Lila added, Save me some food from class. Their words made her feel better.The cooking class was in a bright studio in Noe Valley. Pans banged, and herbs smelled good. Nora was tired, but Ms. Clara, the teacher with gray hair and eyes like her grandma, made her smile. "Nora, you're on chicken," Clara said, giving her an apron. "Lemon herb with veggies. Start."

"Reminds me of Dad's cooking," Nora said, tying her apron tight, smoothing it out. She chopped carrots into even pieces, her knife steady. She mixed lemon, rosemary, and oil, tasting until it was perfect, adding a tiny pinch of salt. Her playsuit swished as she worked, the pendant shiny. Someone watched her, amazed, but Nora was too busy.

"Nice work, Nora," Clara said, walking by. "Keep your zest even. You're good.""Thanks," Nora said, grating a lemon carefully, each piece neat. "My grandma loved cooking. I'm trying to be like her."

A guy, Sam, messed up his potatoes. "Your carrots are perfect," he said. "How?"

"Don't chop like you're fighting," Nora said, showing his bad cuts. "Slow and careful." Sam laughed, and Nora felt lighter.

"Hey, Clara," Nora said, wiping her hands. "Is the oven okay? I'm just checking. I don't think I trust it."

Clara looked and smiled. "It's fine, but I like that you asked. You're smart."

Nora roasted her veggies, placing them neatly, and plated her chicken, wiping a sauce drip off the edge. She tasted it...lemony, herby, like her dad's dinners. She did a little happy dance, her playsuit moving, and Clara smiled big. "You're special, Nora," Clara said, touching her arm. "Your grandma would be proud."

Sam tried his food and groaned. "Mine's crunchy. Help?"

Nora checked. "You didn't cook the chicken enough, goof. Five more minutes." She showed him, and Sam nodded, impressed.

Nora took a picture of her plate, the food colorful, and sent it to Instagram and her friends: First cooking class, nailed it! Maya wrote: Chef Nora, I'm hungry! That playsuit's still crazy! Lila said: Looks awesome, babe. Bring me some. Her mom typed, My girl's the best, and Ellie sent chef emojis. Friends and coworkers commented, making Nora feel good.

She packed the extra food for home, her body heavy. After class, she stopped at a shop for memorial papers, picking a clean font Caleb would like. "No errors," she told the worker, checking three times. She called the flower shop again, making sure they'd come at 10 a.m.Driving home, the city was dark, the bay shiny. Nora parked, her legs slow, and walked inside. Her mom and Ellie were on the couch, eating takeout, a funny show on.

"Look who's back!" Ellie said, waving a fork. "Still in flowers? I'm shook.""Barely," Nora said, kicking off her shoes and showing her food. "Try this. Your new chef's here."

Her mom tasted it, smiling big. "Nora, this is amazing. Better than your dad's. Sorry my love."

They bursted out

Ellie ate fast. "I'm quitting school to eat this forever. Mom, you have to hire her now she's still cheap."Nora laughed, sitting down, the couch comfy. "Fine, but you'll do dishes." She got quiet. "The burial's coming together. Got a place, flowers, someone to talk. It's real."

Her mom held her hand. "You're doing right by him, sweetie. He'd see it."

"Yeah," Ellie said softly. "You're great, Nora. Even in that outfit."

Pfffft

"Shut up," Nora said, tossing a napkin, laughing. They shared stories...Ellie's tale of a kid gluing library books, her mom's win over a grumpy visitor. Nora acted out Theo's messy hair, twirling hers, and talked about Clara's kind eyes, her voice soft when she said the chicken felt like Dad. "It was like he was there," she said, looking down.

After minutes of catching up..."I'm done," she said, yawning while kissing them goodnight. She showered, the warm water calming her, and put on a black tee and sweats. Her bed felt soft, the diary on her table waiting. She didn't write...her head was full of music, herbs, and flowers, too much to sort out.

As she fell asleep, a tiny smile touched her lips, her first in days. Her day...busy, hard, hers...was a good start.