by Sarah White
I don’t know what you would call the relationship that Noah and I have right now. It is definitely a friendship; we are learning more about each other every day. It’s also something a little more than that, too. I feel myself drawn to him and in some way in tune with his thoughts already. I know it isn’t a romantic relationship in the traditional sense, but it’s fulfilling a need in me to be nurtured and cared for. It also feels like a deeper form of companionship than any other friendship I have ever experienced.
Noah has become the first person I text when something funny happens or I need to vent. When my phone chimes I feel a rush when I think it might be from him. I know that all new relationships elicit a feeling of excitement, but what I feel being connected to him is significantly more exaggerated than a simple skip of my heart. I love that he makes me smile, can comfort me at my darkest times, and simply is genuine with his words.
Lyle isn’t forgotten. The pain of what has happened between us is still raw. He reaches out from time to time to make sure I am okay. I’m beginning to understand that we had a relationship built on dependence. He’s struggling to be happy when I’m so hurt, but I guess it is just taking us a long time to realize that making me happy is not his responsibility. It’s mine.
* * *
A tempting aroma is wafting from Noah’s kitchen as I drop my bags in the corner and I smile in anticipation as I slip off my shoes and follow it.
“Hi!” I call.
“Hey, Crash. How was your day?” The grin on Noah’s face hits me like a wave of warm energy and I immediately feel at home. With my hands behind me, I lift myself up onto the counter and reach for the glass of wine he offers me.
“Better now.” I tip my glass up and let him believe that it might be the wine that is brightening my day, but he can probably guess that I’m pretty into him, too. His sleeves are rolled up and he’s barefoot, looking handsome and sexily disheveled as he cooks. His low voice makes my stomach flutter.
“Good to hear. I take it your math test went well?” He takes a tray out of the oven and I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of freshly baked rolls.
“Who would have thought learning to teach a subject I took in high school would be so difficult? I think I passed it. How was your day?” I melt further onto the counter, feeling my worries floating away from my body. I put my glass down and lean back on my hands.
“Getting better by the minute,” he answers, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He returns his attention to plating the food. “I brought you another video to work on, by the way.”
“Great! I can do it tonight, now that I’ve finished that stupid test and that essay.”
He carries our dishes to the table and I follow with our wine glasses. “I’m warning you though, Leah. They’re not always easy to watch. I don’t want you getting your hopes up.” His voice is playful but I can hear the concern he’s trying to hide.
“Oh, stop, Noah. I’m a big girl; I can handle it.”
Throughout dinner I feel my pulse quicken every time our legs brush together. My craving to touch him is so strong, but he’s been clear about his boundaries with me. I know he doesn’t want a relationship and he knows I’m not the type to enjoy friends with benefits. For now we must both settle for friendship and try hard to push any other feelings away, no matter how badly we both want a taste of something more.
* * *
With the dishes done and the kitchen tidy, Noah sets his laptop up at the table and I take his video out to the living room. I slide the DVD into the player, settle down on the couch with my clipboard and point the remote at the TV to start the session.
Noah’s voice on the video rings out over the speakers. He begins by asking them a version of what he calls the Miracle Question, “If you woke up tomorrow and a miracle had happened last night, what would your day be like? How would your relationship be different?”
There is a quiet pause as the woman, Tara, chances a quick glance at her boyfriend, Marcus, and clears her throat. She looks at Noah for encouragement. She softly begins, “We would wake up in the same bed,” and then hesitates a minute, waiting for her boyfriend’s reaction. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and the sound of his chair creaking fills the living room.
He looks to his partner with love in his eyes and my pen is poised, waiting for him to touch her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he answers, “She’d let me hold her hand again instead of worrying so much about what her friends think about our age difference.”
Tara quickly turns her head toward Marcus and they lock gazes, the silence heavy between them. Then, Tara reaches her hand out to Marcus and rests it on his leg.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in triumph and pause the video to code it, smiling. I ignore the soft soft chuckle from Noah in the kitchen. I write down what was said and run the session back a few seconds to make sure I record the right time. Marcus and Tara clearly have some issues, but they reach out to each other several times over the course of the session and as the video comes to an end, I feel like this is a victory for my side.
Chapter 18
Noah
When the screen turns black Leah stands up and stretches, grinning. Her shirt slips up, revealing an enticing patch of bare skin, and I can’t deny that I’m so attracted to her it actually hurts at times. I tell myself I shouldn’t look at her like this, but I ache to hold her against me and want so badly to feel her lips on mine. Instead, I cook her dinner so she’ll keep me company, and eat with her so I can hear about her day. My friends would never let me hear the end of it if they found out how desperate I am to spend time with a woman I’m not having sex with.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that the couple from the video, Tara and Marcus, don’t make it in the end. In our seventh session Tara confesses that the loneliness got to be too much and she has fallen in love with someone her age from work. We proceed with the eighth and final session in a tense discussion of how they will divide their lives up and move on.
Leah’s phone rings and she retrieves it from her purse, the tight clipped tone of her voice telling me it’s Lyle calling again. I motion for her to go into my room so she can have some privacy, and she looks grateful, but my offer isn’t as selfless as it seems. The truth is, listening to her talk to him cuts me deep. She’s come a long way in her awareness of the negative parts of their relationship, but she can’t seem to cut the ties.
I wonder what Lyle would think if he knew she was lying on my bed. He must know she won’t be alone long, unless he’s so wrapped up in his own head that he thinks he deserves a better woman than Leah—there’s no way he would ever find one. I wait until I no longer hear her voice, which feels like an eternity, and then take a container of ice cream from the freezer and scoop it out into two bowls. I put a spoon in each bowl and carry them to the bedroom. I want to make sure she’s okay. I push the door open gently, and see that she’s crying again. I want to throw the ice cream against the wall and call that little prick back.
She smiles through her tears when I hand her the only thing I can offer her. She scoots up to the headboard and sits cross-legged, patting the mattress beside her in invitation. I sit next to her and stretch my legs out in front of me.
“Want to talk about it?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to know what was said between them.
“Hmm,” she says, as if pondering an important question. “Just another round of ‘I don’t want to be with you, but I want to make sure you aren’t moving on, just in case.’”
It only takes me about three mouthfuls to finish my ice cream. I set my empty bowl on the nightstand next to the bed, scoot down onto my side and prop my head up with my arm. She takes a mouthful of her ice cream, lost in her thoughts, and then looks down at me.
“Are you finished already?” She spoons another portion from her dish and to my surprise she moves it toward me, feeding me a bite before taking another one for herself.
“What did you tell him?” I mumble around my mouthful. She giggles.
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“I actually didn’t say much. I told him I had to go, that I was hanging out with a friend.” She scoops us another bite and I raise my brow in question. “He didn’t react the way I would have expected. I think a part of him wants me to move on so he doesn’t feel guilty for the way things ended.”
I nod my head and realize I’ve inadvertently put my hand on her leg as a show of support. I pull it back to my side. “What did he say when you started crying?” She sets her spoon in her empty bowl and moves it to the nightstand, then lies on her back beside me, staring up at the ceiling.
“He told me goodbye.” She laughs a little but it doesn’t fool me. “He pretended like I wasn’t hurting. If he didn’t see my hurt it wasn’t real.” I don’t respond, keeping my eyes on her until she finally glances in my direction. I wipe a tear from her face and feel the heat of her skin as she flushes below my touch.
The conversation flows easily between us, and soon we are back in that comfortable place where we can exist together in a bubble of denial. I pretend I’m not so attracted to her that it makes it hard to think, and she pretends not to purposely touch me every chance she gets. I wonder how long we can exist like this.
I’m not sure how late we stay up, our conversation taking us all the way back to the trials and tribulations of grade school. It must be sometime around midnight when we start noticing how heavy our eyelids feel, but neither of us wants to leave this moment. I rest my head on my pillow and listen to her soft voice.
It isn’t until the next morning that we wake up, completely wrapped in each other’s arms.
Chapter 19
Leah
Fridays on campus are always my favorite. Only the serious students are here as the others have cleared out for the weekend. Another week has passed and I’m feeling good about the fact that it’s been a few days since I even thought about Lyle. I’m just leaving my last class when my phone chimes with a text.
Noah: I have some good news.
Me: What is it?
Noah: Your bed arrived today. I had them put it in the extra bedroom.
This of course is excellent news, but it doesn’t feel that way. After that first night of accidentally drifting off to sleep with Noah in his bed, it’s become a comfortable part of our routine. I look forward to us climbing under the covers and talking. Hearing him open up to me feels so rewarding. I’m honored that I have become an important player in his inner circle. He tells me so many things, from his childhood to the newest rumor in his department. Sometimes we stay up so late talking I worry I’m going to fall asleep mid-sentence. When we’ve said everything we need to, the spaces between our stories become greater and greater until he offers me his arm and I lay my head on his chest.
I realize I have been lost in my own thoughts when my phone chimes again.
Noah: Everything okay?
Me: Yes. Sorry. I got distracted. That’s great. Thanks.
Noah: So will I see you soon?
Me: On my way.
When I finally reach his apartment I feel an awkwardness descend on me. We never talked about what it might mean, but I had thought that Noah enjoyed our end-of-day routine as much as I did. Obviously not, since he’d said that my bed being delivered was good news. I guess playing house with him had to come to an end eventually.
I take in a big breath, put on a fake smile, and open the door.
“Noah?” I call out. He’s not in the kitchen. There’s an eerie quiet I’m not used to.
“In your room,” I hear him call to me. It’s pathetic that it hurts to hear him call it that. I carry my bags with me into the second bedroom and find Noah sitting on the edge of the bed with his head hung low. When he hears me enter he pops his head up and smiles wide, but it isn’t the genuine crooked smile I’m used to.
“The delivery guys just left. I hope everything is okay with it. They couldn’t wait around so they had me sign for it.” He looks at the mattress behind him and then down to the floor before lifting his eyes to mine.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I reply. “Thanks for doing that for me.” I let my bags drop to the floor at the foot of the bed and sit next to him. He blows out a big breath and looks up to the ceiling.
“Leah?” His voice is unsteady and I look at him as he drops his eyes back to mine. “I’m happy that the landlord is making this right for you. I’m thrilled that they’re compensating you for what happened. I’m even impressed that the delivery guys let me know they had already been tipped for their time.” I feel his hand take mine and his eyes fall to where we are joined. “But if I’m being honest, I hate that you aren’t going to be in my bed anymore. I’ll miss your company. You probably think I’m a dick because this is a great thing for you.”
I squeeze his hand tight and then use my free hand to run my thumb along his brow. I don’t think he’s even noticed the wrinkle he gets when he is worried about something. “You have no idea how happy I am that you said that.”
His shoulders relax visibly and he looks at me hopefully. “So you won’t move out of my room right away?”
“No, Noah. I enjoy that time with you, too. Besides,” I bounce my weight on the mattress. “I bet this bed would be cold and uncomfortable. Yours is perfect.” His crooked smile is back.
“That’s because mine is broken in,” he says with a wink.
“Yuck. Don’t remind me,” I tease. Noah shrugs his shoulders and then pulls me to him and kisses my forehead.
“I would be totally game for helping you break this one in,” he says, earning him a punch to the arm. It’s in that perfect moment between us that I realize he hasn’t been keeping any company besides mine since that first morning. Unless he’s meeting women somewhere else. I don’t ask, deciding instead to let myself feel good about the small chance that I’m enough, even without sex.
A few weeks ago my life got tipped upside down. Everything I’d worked so hard to achieve seemed meaningless when I had no one to share it with. I thought that someone had to be Lyle, but I was wrong. Sharing my highs and lows with Noah feels so much more meaningful. I trust him to be honest with me. He opened his home to me and has supported me through this rough time. He may not be the ‘forever’ I’m looking for, but right now being friends with him feels incredible.
Noah stands up and puts some space between us. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and make us some dinner. I was freaking out a little bit—I’m sorry about that. I like having you here, Crash, and I like our little routine. I know it can’t stay this way forever, but I’m not ready to let you go yet.”
Chapter 20
Noah
It’s kind of a shame that a perfectly good bed has sat there unused for three weeks, but that’s the least of my worries. I’m on my way home from campus and doing a mental inventory of the fridge, deciding whether to cook the salmon or that pasta that Leah likes, when I run into the building manager. He steps out of Leah’s apartment and nods his head in my direction, and my stomach sinks as I acknowledge that this might be the news I’ve been dreading. Sooner or later her apartment will be ready and I’m going to have to let her go.
“Hey, Noah. Great news!” Henry is smiling. “The guys were here installing the new carpet today. As soon as they finish and get those baseboards back on, Leah can start moving her stuff back in.” I force myself to smile back at him so he won’t wonder what’s wrong with me.
“Thanks, man. That’s great. When do you think it’ll be ready? I mean, shouldn’t she wait to make sure there won’t be any mold or anything?” I know I’m really reaching. Before I can even finish my sentence he is shaking his head.
“No, it’s all clear. She can move in this weekend.” I feel my chest constrict but manage to nod my head and turn toward my apartment.
“Ok. I’ll let her know.” I turn the key and push the door open. I let my bag slide from my arm and toss my keys on the counter. Making my way over to the fridge, I grab a bottle of beer and twist the cap off. I need
to man up and let her go. This was never supposed to get as comfortable as it has.
When the first beer goes down too quickly, I grab another and head over to the couch. This is where Leah finds me when she returns home about an hour later. I’m watching a movie on TV but honestly I have no idea what’s happening because my mind has been running over every possible excuse for her to stay.
“Long day?” she asks when she sees the empty bottles on the coffee table. I don’t usually drink alone, but today it kind of helped to take away the sting.
“It was. I ran into the manager on my way up.” Her smile falters for a second but she pulls it back up.
“Oh? What did he say?” She reaches for the beer in my hand and takes a long sip. She hands it back to me and scrunches up her nose. She’s not a beer drinker, either.
“He said they’re almost finished. Just going to be putting on the baseboards once they get the new carpet down and then you should be good to move back in.” I force myself to make eye contact with her. She sits on the couch beside me and reaches for my beer again.
“That’s great. Did he say when?” She starts to pull at the label on the bottle. I watch her fidget with it nervously and wonder if she’s feeling as disappointed as I am.
I know Leah has become attached to me, but I’ve spent the last six years of my life studying human emotions. I need to acknowledge these feelings for what they are instead of what they could be. Leah is rebounding from her failed relationship. She doesn’t love me; we’ve just grown comfortable together.
“This weekend.” I tell her. I put my hand on top of hers, stilting the shredding of the label. Her eyes lift to mine and I smile, giving her permission to be happy. She needs to be free to live her life alone. I know how powerful it can feel to survive all by yourself. Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it and get past the initial impulse to try to keep her here, I can acknowledge that her moving out on her own might be a necessary step in the direction of healing.