by Sarah White
I want so badly to kiss her. What logic is telling me is so different from what my heart wants. I loosen my hold on her arms so that she can pull them away if she wants. She doesn’t. Instead we stay like this, my hands lightly on her wrists and our faces close enough to touch. I move my gaze from her eyes to her lips and decide that I am powerless to resist this. Just as I brush my lower lip against hers, the phone in her pocket begins to play a song.
I look up to her eyes and I know immediately who is calling her. I lift myself up and stand at the edge of the bed. The ringtone repeats and I know she’s trying to ignore it for my benefit. I reach my hand out to her and pull her up to a sitting position at the edge of the bed.
“Be strong, beautiful,” I whisper before gently pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then I do the opposite of what my heart is telling me. I take a step back and leave the room, closing the door behind me.
Chapter 15
Leah
The phone call from Lyle was a little unexpected. That was all it took to pull me out of the moment with Noah and right back into my own personal hell. Seems I might have accidently packed something of Lyle’s in my stuff. He wants his father’s pocketknife and believes it might be in the little wooden box I used to keep at my bedside.
It’s not that he was unkind; if he had been this whole situation would be easier. If he were some kind of mean monster I would want to push him out of my life, but instead he’s the same guy I fell in love with, who one day fell out of love with me. I promised him I would look for the knife when the workers are finished in my apartment and he agreed to make the drive here to get it.
As I open the door to leave Noah’s room, I hear the sound of soft music playing in the kitchen. I follow the melody and find Noah stirring something on the stovetop and drinking a glass of white wine. There is an empty glass beside him on the counter next to the bottle, and I’m glad I’m not alone. Noah turns his head and smiles that killer smile as I move in next to him. I lean back on the counter as he pours me a glass and hands it to me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“For now,” I answer and take a long sip of the cool wine. He nods his head and returns his attention to the butter and mushrooms he is sautéing in the pan in front of him.
“Need to talk about it?”
“I’ve never had a friend that was a therapist before.” I hesitate for a minute, trying to decide what I should discuss with him and what would be better kept to myself. “You must be tired of hearing other people’s problems all day…”
“I’m a good listener,” he coaxes.
I smile at him and take another sip. “Would it be terrible if I didn’t want to talk about it? I feel like I could analyze Lyle all day and still not understand where he’s coming from.” Noah’s crooked smile causes my stomach to do a little flip.
“Actually, I think that might be for the best. I’m here to listen any time, but I hate that he gets so many of your daily thoughts.” He turns the flame down to low and uses the tongs to flip the chicken. It smells wonderful.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I put down my glass so I can hop up onto the counter. I’m really appreciating the show as he cooks with one hand and holds his wine in the other.
“My mother is an excellent cook. She taught me a few dishes and the rest I’ve perfected on my own.”
“I’ve never had a man cook for me before. This is nice. Do you want me to help?”
“Nope, I want you to sit back and relax.”
“Gladly!” I take another sip of my wine. “So tell me a little more about your study. How many couples have you worked with?”
“I’ve worked with about a hundred myself, and the other therapists have done the same. All the work is complete; I just need to code about twenty more videos. As long as we can show that there’s consistency between the people coding the videos, we should be able to move on to computing the data.” He takes two plates from the cupboard and turns off the burners.
“What will other psychologists do with the data?” I watch as he arranges the chicken and mushrooms on the plates.
“It depends on the results. Right now it looks like my hypothesis is correct. If the numbers back me up, and I’m pretty confident they will, I suppose future clinicians will stress touch in relationships.” He smiles as he lifts the plates from the counter and puts them on the table. I pick up the bottle of wine and his empty glass and follow.
We both sit down and I pour him another glass. “What will you do with the results?” How can he study couples every day and not have some faith that relationships can work?
“I will know that I’ve been right. It will be the validation I’ve been looking for since I came up with my theory years ago. To keep a relationship alive you have to keep touching. If you’re hoping that I’ll say I’m going to be a changed man and start looking for my happy-ever-after, you’re going to be disappointed.” He takes a bite of his dinner.
“I wouldn’t expect you to run out right away, but maybe be open to the idea that two people could work hard and hold the key to keeping the relationship intimate and connected.” I lift my fork to my mouth and the flavor explodes across my tongue. It’s fantastic.
“Maybe I don’t want to work hard.” He cuts another piece of chicken and takes a mouthful. He chews thoughtfully, swallows, and continues. “I would want a partner that would share the fight with me. I would need to know that on the days I was having a tough time giving the relationship my all, she would be there to make up the difference. I would do the same for her. What I’ve found instead is that my tough days get even harder when the woman gets resentful or contemptuous. It turns into a tit-for-tat relationship and before you know it we’re both keeping score.”
I lean back in my chair. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.” I say. I hate that what he has said perfectly describes the death of my relationship with Lyle.
He sips his wine. “That’s just it. It doesn’t have to be that way. That’s the part that sucks. In the moment it’s happening you can’t see what you’re doing. Before you know it the damage has been done. No one goes into a relationship thinking they’re going to break up.” I hardly notice I have drained my glass again, but Noah stands and retrieves a new bottle.
“Noah, I’m sure you are an excellent therapist, but your personal conversations are depressing as hell.” His laughter is music to my ears as he pops the cork and pours me another glass. We finish our dinner with small talk about the university and how we each spent the day. His phone rings as we clear the table, but he silences the call and shuts down his phone. He doesn’t ask me to, but I do the same. It feels both terrifying and liberating.
It’s time to get serious about coding. We move to the living room where Noah sets up the video. It shows a couple sitting beside each other on a couch. Noah pauses it to give me instructions. “We are keeping track of how the partners respond to each other’s pain. If there is a moment when one shares something painful and the partner responds with touch, we note it. We also need to keep track of touch in general. If they walk in holding hands or let their legs brush up against each other we need to make note of it and mark the time in the video when it happens.”
He shows me a sheet of paper that has three columns. The first is labeled ‘Time,’ the second is ‘Touch’ and the third is ‘Statement.’ He tells me to note the time in the video, write a quick note to describe the touch and lastly, if something painful was shared, to note exactly what was said. “I’m keeping track of that data for future research. If I see any trends it might be interesting to study what type of shared information elicits the greatest physical contact.”
“I think I’ve got it.” I reach for the paper and he hands me the remote, as well.
“You might need to stop it or rewind it so you can get the wording correctly. I’ll code along with you and see if our notes match up.” He leans forward on the couch and grabs himself a coding sheet and pen from the table. He’s in his element now and I�
�m very impressed.
Since meeting Lyle, there hasn’t been a man that has made me feel like I could fall in love with anyone else, but Noah has changed that. I know he’s not interested in anything more than a friendship—I wonder if I will be okay with that in the end?—but his honesty and compassion have opened my heart and I’m grateful. Falling in love is not something any of us have control over, not even Noah. One day he’s going to fall for someone and his heart will be healed. I just hope we’re still friends when it happens so I can happily tell him I told him so.
Chapter 16
Noah
I thought that playful Leah was my favorite, but now focused Leah has stolen my heart. I love the way she is taking my dissertation so seriously and how hopeful she looks every time the couple on the video touches. I already know how their story ends; Leah will be disappointed when they decide to go their separate ways at the end of the fifth session. I’m following along on my own sheet of paper, but to be honest my attention is more focused on this new assistant of mine than on the video. Luckily, I know this session like the back of my hand.
When the video is over Leah hands me her coding sheet with a very cute smile and I compare our notes. We are perfectly in sync, but somehow I already knew we would be. I’m not sure what it means, but I do know that it threatens to break down a wall I have built to keep my heart safe.
“It’s perfect,” I finally say as I tuck our sheets back into the manila folder on the table. I hit eject on the DVD player and Leah stands up and stretches her legs. “I think you can do them on your own now. I’ll spot check a few here and there to make sure you’re coding in a way that’s consistent with the other assistants. For now, though, how about we get out of here and get some ice cream?”
“That sounds great!”
We quickly get ready and head out into the night for the short walk to the ice cream parlor. As we pass Dragon, Jason emerges, loaded down with another order.
“Hey Noah,” he says. His eyes take Leah in and a knowing smile curves his lips. “This your friend?”
“Yes. This is Leah. Leah, this is Jason.” Leah smiles at him and gives him a little wave.
“Nice to meet you, Jason. That was the best take-out I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you. It’s my parents’ restaurant. I just do the heavy lifting.” He raises the bags to prove his point. “I’d better go before the food gets cold. See you soon.” Hurrying past us, he climbs into his Prius and pulls away from the curb.
“He seems nice,” Leah says as we reach the ice cream shop. The bell above the door sounds and a young worker comes out from the back room. We order our cones and take a seat at one of the tables inside.
“Jason’s a cool guy. When he isn’t rushing out to another delivery he sometimes stops to watch a few minutes of whatever game is on. His parents are very traditional. I think he enjoys getting out and having a little freedom.”
“What do you mean by ‘traditional’?” Leah captures a drop of melted ice cream from the side of her cone with her tongue. I thought being close to her in the apartment was intense, but I hadn’t even considered what it might be like to watch her licking an ice cream.
I clear my throat and try hard to focus on our conversation. “They want him to work hard and spend all his free time studying. He doesn’t get much say in what he wants to do with his life.”
“How is that even possible? He’s an adult.”
“It’s not like he’s a prisoner or anything; he just believes his parents know best. They have a lot invested in his future since he’s their only child. When he talks about them it’s never with anything but appreciation.” I take another lick, trying to keep the drips under control.
“Does he ever get to go out? Date? Anything?”
I chuckle and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Yes, he goes out. He dates, but it’s a girl that his parents have pretty much chosen for him.” Her eyes widen with disbelief. I shrug my shoulders.
“He’s happy with the woman they chose. Her family and his have known each other a long time and they believe their children will be content and successful together. They attend the same church, their families come from the same area, and they’re at the age where there’s pressure to start building their own family.”
Leah licks her lips clean. “What if they don’t fall in love?”
I actually asked Jason something similar once, but of course I’m a guy, so my question was more along the lines of what would happen if he didn’t find her attractive. “Jason told me that physical attraction isn’t something that’s really important for him. He looks at it like a good business deal. If their families want them together, and they both have a lot to offer in terms of their potential to contribute to a happy, healthy, stable household, everything else will fall together.”
“Do you think that’s true? Do you believe they’ll make it work even if they weren’t mad for each other in the beginning?” She pauses, her lips suspended above her dwindling scoop of chocolate.
“Actually, arranged marriages work for a lot of people. And Jason and his girlfriend have it better than a lot of people in arranged relationships in that he agrees with the pairing and he likes her. Other cultures do commitment differently than we do here.”
Leah thinks about it for a minute. “I guess you might be in a clearer position to look at your proposed partner if your head wasn’t clouded by lust. Sometimes that has you overlooking things that are actually very important when it comes to compatibility.” She uses one of the napkins to wipe a drop of ice cream off the back of my hand.
“To each his own. Do you think your parents would pick a good match for you?” I ask. She shakes her head and finishes the last of her cone.
“My parents didn’t like Lyle at first. He’s grown on them, but I don’t think he’s who they would want for me.” She crumples up her napkin and tosses it in the nearby trash. “What about you? Would your parents pick a good match?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug again. “My mother has always said that I’d need a woman who was independent, since my career is going to take a lot of my time. She wants someone who is honest and would be committed.” I realize those traits are also what I would be looking for. “She also would want someone who wouldn’t be a quitter. I think she’d choose a woman who would dig in for the fight.” I give Leah a wink as I finish my cone and toss the wrapper in the trash behind her.
* * *
Back at the apartment, we kick off our shoes and head for the couch. I’m pleased to see that even though it’s getting late, she isn’t headed straight to bed. I reach for the remote and switch on the TV.
I put my feet up on the coffee table and rest my arm against the back cushions. As we scan through the cable guide she leans into me and puts her feet up on the table next to mine.
When a documentary on autism grabs our attention, I set the remote down and let myself sink a little lower into the couch. As if we do this every night, Leah shimmies down into the cushions and rests her head back against the crook of my arm.
As the time slips by we both seem to melt further into each other and I feel myself running my fingers through her hair absently. Her hand is resting innocently on my leg. I wonder if other men and women have this type of friendship. It feels natural and yet exciting, but maybe that’s because as this is uncharted territory for me.
I don’t have any women that I’m just friends with. I have a few colleagues, but no one that I would feel comfortable with like this. There’s always a professional line, or a disinterest when it comes to the other women in my life. With Leah, it’s different. I want to hold her and spend time with her. I want to know what she’s thinking. Listening to people all day can leave me exhausted, but right now I would stay up all night to hear her speak about her life. My instincts tell me I’m approaching dangerous territory, but my heart and body want to see where it takes me.
By the time the credits roll, Leah has fallen asleep in my arms. I’m tired, too, but I can�
��t bring myself to let her go. I use my feet to lift hers and I twist so that we are both fully on the couch. She wakes up for a minute but is not fully present, so I scoot down and rest my head on the pillows. She looks around with sleepy eyes and lies back down, this time resting her face in the crook of my neck.
I wrap my arms around her and kick the blanket from the back of the couch to cover our bodies. I glide my hand down her head to tuck away the hair that is tickling my face. At least that’s why I tell myself I’m doing it. It sounds a lot less convincing on the fourth or fifth pass.
I softly kiss the top of her head before resting my cheek against her. It won’t mean anything if she is asleep.
Chapter 17
Leah
“Hey, Henry. How’s it coming along?” I poke my head into my apartment, where Henry is helping to pull up the damaged carpet.
“It’s going good. We ordered the new carpet and the wood to replace the sections that got warped. Not too much longer now.” He pulls off his work gloves and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “I was able to order the new TV, and between you and me, I upgraded you for your troubles. Just don’t mention it to the owner.” He chuckles nervously and I mimic zipping my lips and throwing away the key.
“Hey Henry, we’ve got a problem here!” One of the workers calls from the bedroom. Henry excuses himself, looking alarmed, but inwardly I find myself celebrating.
I’ve been checking in daily, and I’ve had mixed feelings about how quickly the place is coming together. I love living with Noah and I suspect that my dream of being happy in an apartment of my own is not going to be what I thought it was. There’s something fantastic about sitting on the counter in the kitchen with a glass of wine while Noah cooks us dinner. I’m not sure I’m ever going to want to give that up.