by Sarah White
She smiles shyly at me. “I’ll just take a quick shower then, and we’ll get started.”
“Are you hungry? I could order Chinese.” Her smile grows and she loosens her grip on the towel, letting it fall away from her body. Other people might not pay attention to little things like this, but I have been studying subtle body movements for a long time now. She is opening up to me and it’s ridiculous how good that makes me feel.
“I love Chinese,” she says, moving toward the bathroom. “I’ll take anything that’s not spicy.” She shuts the door behind her.
“Not spicy?! You’re missing out,” I call. “I’ll order a few of the specials. We can try a little bit of everything.”
Her voice is muffled by the sound of the water running. “Sounds great!”
I dig through the kitchen drawers until I find the tattered takeout menu from Dragon, my favorite place down the street. I order a few of my usual dishes and try to stay away from anything too hot, opting for only one spicy dish. I grab a beer from the fridge and switch on the TV while I wait.
I try hard to focus on the show I’ve found, but it’s a futile attempt. I am all too aware of Leah in the shower, and I keep finding myself looking over my shoulder to make sure I don’t miss her entrance. I shake my head and laugh a little before taking another swig of my beer. I am not sure when I’ve felt this anxious about sharing takeout with someone.
There is a knock at the door—the delivery guy is here. I jump to answer it.
“Hey, Jason! What’s up?” I bump knuckles with him. I’ve been ordering from this restaurant at least once a week for the past couple of years and he’s delivered my food every time. He always throws in a few extra fortune cookies and I always give him a little extra as a tip.
“Hey Noah. Nothing much, man. Got a date tonight?” He lifts an eyebrow and looks down at the extra bag, which is not usually part of my order.
“I have a friend staying with me for a little while.” He hands over the bags of food and the aroma fills the entryway. I suddenly feel like I haven’t eaten in days.
“Cool. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks. See you around.” Jason lifts the small wad of bills up in my direction and nods his head in thanks. I close the door with my foot and step into the kitchen so I can put the bags down.
“It’s here already?” Leah says from behind me. She is wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and her skin is a light pink from the heat of the water. She’s washed all her makeup off and her damp hair is twisted up on top of her head. So unbelievably beautiful.
“They’re really fast. Are chopsticks okay?” I break a pair apart and begin to rub them together.
“Of course,” she says, reaching into the bag and pulling some out for herself. She opens one of the containers, shoves the sticks in and takes a seat at the kitchen table. The table is pushed up against the wall, with three chairs around it. I take the container that has the hot pepper on the top and settle into the seat beside her.
“You’ve had a rough day—if you’re too tired tonight to get started on the study, we can wait until later this week. It’s not a big deal at all,” I offer.
She looks at me skeptically. “That’s such baloney. You’re just itching to get this finished. I can see it on your face.” She captures a few noodles between her sticks. In a mocking tone she continues, “This relationship is never going to work out if you can’t be honest with me.”
I laugh. “You sound just like some of the women I’ve taped during my study.” I quickly get into character and play along. “You are just so emotional. I can’t seem to make you happy. You say you’re ‘fine,’ but really you’re angry.”
Leah fights back a smile as she puts on her angry face. “You don’t understand me. You will never understand me because you don’t listen. Don’t you care enough to listen to me?”
I scoop up a clump of rice and spicy chicken, giving myself a minute to retaliate. She’s good at this—I wonder if she’s playing from her own experience. “I would listen more if you would stop demanding I tell you how I feel or what I’m thinking. Sometimes I wish you would just say what you feel so we could move on.” This earns a small snort from her and I can’t help but laugh as she covers her mouth in horror. “Yep, I heard it. You totally just snorted.”
She pinches me playfully with her chopsticks. “I couldn’t help it! You sound like such a typical male.” She returns her sticks to her carton and suddenly turns serious. “Are we all that predictable?” Her voice trails off as if she is asking a rhetorical question but at the last second her eyes lift to mine.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin and then crumple it up in my fist. I want to hold back and not taint her hopeful mind with the ugly things I’ve learned about couples, but I can’t lie to her. “Yes. We are that predictable. Not just as men and women, but as couples. We break down all the time over small matters of communication. We’re so focused on ourselves we forget that there’s another person in the relationship.”
Leah stabs at her food but doesn’t lift it to her mouth. I should stop, but I’m on a roll. “If it ends there, consider yourself lucky. If you try to make it work, it can be as if a switch is flipped and you go from being self-absorbed to realizing with frightening clarity that your partner is unhappy. That recognition causes fear at such a deep level that you overcompensate. Your whole life becomes about pleasing them.”
She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. Pushing the food away, she sighs. “I’ve been there. I’d still be there if he’d let me.”
I grab a small piece of chicken with my chopsticks. “I’ve been there myself. You might not be able to see it now, but he’s doing you a favor cutting you free. By letting you go—forcing a breakup—he’s stopping you from living your life for him when he doesn’t feel the same way. He may not be in love with you, but letting you go after seeing you flip that switch tells me he cares about you.”
She reaches for her food again. “It stings.” The crack in her voice sends me back to a time when I felt the same way. I know how badly it hurts.
“It will.” I take a mouthful and try not to look at her face.
“For how long?” she asks. “How do you get over it?”
“A long time. I don’t know if you ever truly get over it. You learn from it. You learn to live with the sting until it stops hurting, but the wound is always there. Get up every day and live your life. Try new things and rebuild a life on your own until all the little moments in your life that were filled with that other person become filled with something else.” It’s the most honest answer I’ve ever given anyone.
We sit for a minute, both of us playing with our food but not really eating it. As I gather up another mouthful, Leah reaches across the table and steals it.
“Maybe some spice will fill the space.” She brings the food to her mouth and I watch her lips slide along the chopsticks. Her eyes close as she studies the flavor. A smile stretches across her face and her eyes pop open. “That’s really good,” she says and reaches for another bite.
I tip the carton in her direction and latch my foot around the leg of her chair, pulling her alongside me. I put my arm around her and pull her into my chest. “I won’t promise you that you will forget him, but I can promise you that eventually thinking about him won’t hurt. There isn’t a lot of fanfare. One day you’ll think of him and find yourself surprised that the memory no longer comes with the sting.”
I’m not sure what’s happening between us, but being around her feels like being home.
Chapter 9
Leah
I breathe him in as he holds me against his strong chest. I close my eyes and let the warmth of his body warm my cheek. We have both been on the receiving end of a very painful heartbreak. That one thing seems to be the force that is pulling us closer. I look up into his eyes. “Does it still sting for you?”
Noah brushes my hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. “No. It doesn’t.” I smile
back at him. It’s starting to feel like I’m in the company of an old friend.
“Well, your view on relationships is a bit of a downer, but you’ve given me hope that maybe I can survive Lyle.” I turn my back to him and lie against his chest, stretching my feet out to the chair across from me. I don’t feel hungry anymore so I push the carton of food away from me and wrap my arms around my stomach.
“So have you dated anyone else seriously since the break-up?” I ask. I’m glad I’m not facing him right now or he would see the way my cheeks flush. His answer doesn’t come right away. Like me, he pushes his food away and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“Me? No. No one serious. Like I said, I won’t go down that road again.”
“Where does that leave someone your age? If you don’t plan on dating anyone seriously, then what kind of relationships do you have?” I know what I saw when I first moved in. The rage on that woman’s face said more than ‘casual friendship.’
“I have short relationships.” His tone is flat. I sit up and turn around to face him.
“Does it work? You don’t find yourself falling for any of them?” He smiles at me again but it falls quickly. His eyes look away from mine.
“It works in its own way. No, I don’t fall for them, and if they get a little too caught up in me, I do what it takes to end it.” I feel my brows pull together in question.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper. It’s as if we are sharing a secret between us.
Noah draws in a big breath and leans back in his chair. “I’m not a good guy, Leah. I’m an excellent friend, but a terrible boyfriend. Hell, I wouldn’t even call myself a boyfriend, more like a friend with benefits.” He kicks at something invisible on the floor. “I like to keep things simple. I have girls over to have a little fun. There’s been a lot of women over the last few years and if it tells you anything about how it ends, I’m not in touch with any of them right now. We take care of business and then go our separate ways. I try not to overlap any time I’m with one woman before I move on to the next, but if I’m honest I have to say that I don’t really put too much effort into that. What you saw a few days ago was the outcome of a recent slip-up in that area.”
“Doesn’t it get lonely?” I ask, closing up the takeout containers. Noah follows my lead.
“That’s the whole point. I don’t give a lot of space for the lonely to creep in.” I get the message loud and clear. He’s got a revolving door of sexual partners and staying with him is going to give me a front row seat. No, thanks. He doesn’t see it this way, but it sounds self-destructive to me. I stand up and gather up the cartons.
“I won’t stay long. I don’t want to get in the way of your coping tool.” I say it jokingly, but I am serious.
“Stay as long as you need. I’ll find ways to do what I need to do.” At least he’s honest.
“Are you ready to get started on those videos?” I ask, changing the subject. I put the food into the fridge. Noah leans on the counter beside me and watches my face carefully. I force myself to smile at him and tuck my hair behind my ear. I don’t have any claim on him, but I feel a pang in my chest when I imagine that if I weren’t here he would probably be with another woman.
“I’ll go get the video set up,” he says. “We need to go over the things you’re looking for and how you would rate them. We can watch one couple tonight for practice. I need you to sign a confidentiality form also. It’s standard practice for my psych assistants.”
“Of course. I’ll be right out.”
Noah turns and makes his way to the living room. I close my eyes and tell myself that he’s an adult and can make his own choices. I don’t need to rescue him from himself. I’ve only been with Lyle, but I know that it’s not so easy to separate sex from love. Noah can act as if he has found the answer, but I know better.
When everything is put away in the kitchen, I join Noah in the living room and sit cross-legged at the far end of the couch. He slides a paper and a pen over to me, and I take a minute to read the agreement, sign my name and hand it back to him.
“Thanks, Crash.” Despite everything, my heart speeds up in my chest when he flashes me his off-kilter smile.
Noah begins to explain the coding procedure. My phone rings in the distance and normally I would sprint to it, afraid I might miss a call from Lyle. But it can wait. The ringing fades into the background as I focus on Noah’s deep voice.
It’s hard not to smile at his enthusiasm. My attention goes back and forth from his lips to his hands, but I lose track of the words he is saying. There is nowhere I would rather be right now than here with him. He reaches up and tugs a strand of my hair that has broken free from my clip.
“Are you listening to me?” he asks playfully and I feel my face flush with embarrassment at being caught inside my own head.
“Sorry,” I say and look down at the floor. That wasn’t very professional of me.
“I’m having a hard time concentrating, too,” he says softly. I can’t help but be pleased at that. “I’ll start over and this time let’s focus on the project.” We sit there for a minute just looking at each other and then he breaks the silence. “I hope he told you how beautiful you are,” he says. He reaches for the remote control and turns the TV on.
I don’t answer him, but I feel his words warm my insides. Forgetting Lyle will be hard, but walking away from Noah might be impossible.
Chapter 10
Noah
Sitting this close to Leah is doing a number on me. There is no doubt that under different circumstances I would have tried to sleep with her. She is beautiful and intelligent—a lethal combination for me. It’s a good thing I met her the way I did a few days ago, or I would have messed things up quickly.
This is not me. I don’t like this dance that couples do and I try hard to avoid situations like this, but there is something about her that isn’t allowing me to treat her like other women. I want to protect her, to show her that she can love again, but the irony is that I know I will ultimately hurt her. With one wrong move I could prove her right, only to prove her wrong in the end.
I lean forward on my elbows and try to get the TV to the right input so I can start the video. I feel her eyes on me and I want so badly to turn to her and lean in. I want to know what she tastes like and how soft she feels in my arms. Instead, I run a hand through my hair and settle back into the couch. My knee accidently brushes hers and my body responds instantly, sending a rush of adrenaline through me.
“So, let’s go over it one more time,” I suggest, “and then watch a video so you get an idea of what I need from you.” Her eyebrows rise briefly and we both laugh at the double meaning. I rub my hands down my face and remind myself she is off limits. “You know what I mean,” I say, and reach to touch her knee. At the last second I realize what I am doing and drop my hand on the couch instead. If she noticed, she doesn’t say anything.
“Alright. I’m ready,” She says. Her phone rings in the distance for a second time, but she looks determined to ignore it. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Did you want to answer that? I don’t mind.” I say the words but they are not true. I’m jealous of an unknown caller. No, I’m jealous of a particular caller; I just don’t know if that’s who is ringing her now. She jumps up to retrieve her phone.
I hate that I care. I hate that for the first time in many years, I want to be the one a woman wants to talk to. It’s a lot of responsibility to do it correctly and normally I’m happy not to be that guy. As I watch her pick the phone up and slide her finger to unlock the screen I feel my stomach turn. I reach into my pocket for my own phone and pull up Mandy’s number, a girl I have just started hooking up with.
I can’t bring myself to type anything as my attention is fully on the hushed conversation Leah is having with the caller. “I’m doing okay. The move went well, but now there’s a problem with my apartment so I’m staying with a friend.” Leah glances at me and I p
retend to be absorbed in my screen. She turns back, tucks her head down and lowers her voice. “I miss you.”
I feel like I’m watching someone walk right off the end of a pier. I cringe and remember exactly how it feels to be putting yourself out there when the other person doesn’t give a shit. I rub my chest, stand up and start to make my way to my bedroom. When Leah spins around to watch me go, I whisper, “Take as long as you need. We can do this another time.” She smiles and nods her head before turning away and shutting me out.
I have come a long way since my days of heartbreak, but not long enough to lose the empathy I feel for others. In my work, I have a limited time to sit with someone in their sorrow. When the session ends I get to change hats and take a break. With Leah living here, I won’t have that luxury.
It’s been a long time since I thought about my break-up. I lie down on my bed and tuck my hands under my head. I can’t hear the words of Leah’s conversation of course, but I can hear the soft lull of her voice out in the living room. I’ve left my bedroom door cracked so she knows she is welcome to come in when the conversation is over. I lie there, silently begging her to hang up before she has a chance to put her heart back in his hands.
It feels like hours before the call is over, but eventually it dawns on me that I can no longer hear her voice. I sit up, listening, and what I hear causes my heart to hurt. It is very faint, but I hear whimpers and sniffles, and I know she is crying. I curl my fingers around the edge of the bed and a war begins inside me. I should leave her out there to recover on her own. Stepping in won’t help her through it any faster.
I feel myself stand up anyway. As if they were controlled by someone else entirely, my legs move toward my door. I pull it open to find Leah, her silhouette backlit by the kitchen light.
We stand there for a second in silence. I was coming to her and she was coming to me. Now we have reached an impasse, neither of us knowing where the line of this new friendship is drawn. Without thinking, I reach for her and pull her into my arms. I know I can’t get her through this grief any faster, but I can hold her for a little while.