by L.H. Cosway
Finally, he left. I stared at my ceiling, feeling the loss of him already.
Later that evening, I got back from a long, invigorating walk on the beach. I heard music coming from Noah’s bedroom and climbed the stairs. My cheeks flushed with excitement to see him.
I knocked on his door and stepped inside. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, as music blared all around. “The Killing Moon” played at top volume, so loud he hadn’t heard me come in.
Noah was shirtless. I would’ve thought he was sleeping, but no one could sleep through music this loud. Then, as I stepped closer, I saw a single tear roll down his cheek. My breath caught. He was crying.
My throat thickened to know he was upset, my body moving on autopilot as I climbed into bed next to him. He opened his eyes, surprised to see me there. I didn’t say a word, simply wrapped my arms around him tight and held on. I sensed whatever was causing him to suffer had happened long before I knew him. Whatever turmoil was inside his head, I wished to take it from him. Erase it all until he felt no more pain, and all that was in his heart was the deep, unexplainable, ardent love I had for him.
I wanted to tell him that, to express the complicated mess of emotions inside me, but I was scared. I knew that Noah liked me, but I wasn’t sure if he loved me.
The song ended, and we lay in silence for several minutes before Noah finally spoke. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”
“All the time,” I answered without missing a beat. I wished I was someone who didn’t have an ill-fated curse hanging over her head. That way my life would be so much simpler.
“I wonder what it would be like to be born from love. To be one of God’s creatures instead of one of his mistakes.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” I whispered.
“I don’t,” he said, then corrected, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to believe in a God who could allow someone like me to exist.”
Emotion caught in my throat, a heavy lump. Didn’t he know how much it meant to me that he existed? I suspected he felt this way because of what happened with his father. It was obviously an accident, but he’d been made to believe he was a murderer, that he’d taken a life. I brought my hand up to stroke his hair away from his forehead. “You lost your faith, but you can find it again. I’ll help you,” I told him. “And you’re not a mistake. You could never be a mistake because you’re mine. We were always meant to find each other.”
His eyes, so full of sorrow, showed the tiniest flicker of hope. “I’m yours?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He buried his face in my neck, arms wrapping around me, causing my heart to break just a little as he whispered into my skin, “I’m yours.”
***
For the next three weeks, Noah and I found each other in our small corners of the house. We gave ourselves over to desire, and I didn’t think about what would happen next. Instead I lived entirely in the moment.
The idea of hopping on the back of his bike and riding away with him was tempting, but then my dad’s curse would surely follow. My life wasn’t my own, and my decisions were directed by an invisible and malevolent power far beyond my comprehension. I refused to believe God was behind the curse. No, I believed an evil force had intercepted my father’s prayers, preying on his desperation and need and making a deal that would haunt him for all his days.
Now that same force haunted me.
So, I would take what little happiness I could, and when my life was absent of human touch and affection, I would find contentment in the spiritual.
I made it through my exams. All my studying throughout the year paid off, even though half the time I was in a daze over Noah. I was completely lost in him. I sat my final exam the day before Victor’s remembrance ceremony. It came far too soon, and I remembered Noah telling me he was leaving the day after.
I wasn’t ready to let him go. I didn’t think I ever would be, and that conflict kept me awake at night.
On the day of the ceremony, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, studying my reflection. I wore one of the dresses Noah bought me on my birthday. It was long and pale, made of chiffon over a silky material. The light fabric highlighted my dark eyes. I’d never noticed quite how haunted they were; wide and open, but at the same time cynical and tired.
I left my hair down and put on a small bit of make-up before laying down on the bed. There was still another hour before the remembrance began. Noah had hired people to clean the house and set up a large sound system for music. Siobhan was doing the catering, and honestly, it felt more like a big party than a remembrance ceremony. Like a final fuck you to the person who once made his life a misery. A decade had passed, and now Noah was ready to leave the tragedy behind him.
I was currently re-reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame, absorbed in Quasimodo and Esmeralda’s world when my bedroom door opened. Someone stepped inside, and I sensed it was Noah right before he dropped down onto the bed next to me. Without preamble he plucked the book from my grasp, tossed it aside and buried his face in my neck, kissing and nibbling. My breathing quickened as a pleasured sigh escaped me.
“Missed you today,” he mumbled into my skin, and a shudder went through me. His hunger for me was something I was still getting used to, and mine for him. Before, I thought of him ninety percent of the time. Now he was in my head constantly. He never left. I found myself daydreaming often, thinking of his lips on my body, the way he held me so tight sometimes it was almost like he thought I might disappear.
He rolled us so that he was on top of me, his lips kissing every inch of my face and neck.
“I was reading,” I said breathlessly. “And you’re going to rumple my dress.”
He grinned devilishly, and his lips fell away. He held himself up on an elbow as he took me in.
“You look beautiful,” he said, gently pressing his mouth to my shoulder, his teeth biting gently.
I undulated but reluctantly pulled away. “Thanks,” I replied, flushing as I grabbed my book and opened it to the page I left off on.
Noah tilted his head to scan the cover. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
“It’s an old favourite.”
“You back the underdog,” he said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. I remembered something he said to me once, about supporting the underdog. It was another thing we had in common. Noah’s hand swept over my hip. “Read some to me,” he purred.
How could I possibly read with him laying across from me, looking like the most tempting being in the whole entire universe? I swallowed and brought my attention to the page, flushing deeper because I was on a particularly sentimental part. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice steady.
“After the series of fatal shocks which had overturned everything within her, she had found but one thing intact in her soul, one sentiment— her love for the captain. Love is like a tree; it sprouts forth of itself, sends its roots out deeply through our whole being, and often continues to flourish greenly over a heart in ruins.
“And the inexplicable point about it is that the more blind is this passion, the more tenacious it is. It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it.”
I stopped reading for a moment to glance at Noah. His eyes were fixed on me, but I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. I closed the book, feeling embarrassed for some baffling reason. Maybe it was all the talk of blind, tenacious passion. All the talk of love. My feelings for him had been intense early on, but now that we’d slept together so many times my heart felt like it was hardly big enough to hold in everything I was feeling.
“Why did you stop?” he whispered, eyelids lowered as he looked over at me.
I couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s nothing … you just make me feel so self-conscious when you stare at me like that.”
He reached out to tuck some hair behind my ear. I practically shuddered at his touch. “I don’t think that’s it. Tell me.”
I closed my eyes, emotion catching in my throat, and
in a moment of brave candidness, I blurted, “I’m in love with you.” Noah didn’t respond, and I was too scared to open my eyes. My cheeks heated, and my tongue felt heavy and useless in my mouth. “Say something,” I begged.
“You don’t love me,” he finally responded, voice flat.
I opened my eyes and found him staring at me without expression. “You presume to tell me how I feel?” I challenged.
“I’m unlovable, Estella. You don’t see it yet, but you will.”
Tears threatened to leak out my eyes, “You’re not a murderer. You know that, right?”
He looked away, a shadow falling over him. “That’s not why. If you truly believe in your Bible, then you’d know that a creature such as me isn’t fit to inherit the Kingdom of God.” His eyes flashed to mine. “And I’m certainly not fit to receive the angelic perfection of your love.”
Frustration filled me because he wasn’t making any sense. Whatever Noah’s sins were, so long as he repented, they could be forgiven. That was an irrefutable tenet of Christianity. “If you’re truly unlovable then why have I allowed you into my bed night after night?” I questioned boldly.
“You wanted sex,” he said, his tone dismissive. It was almost like he was frightened to believe in my love.
“I wanted you,” I said emphatically. “Because you’ve consumed me almost from the very moment we met.”
His chin lifted, eyes clashing with mine. My heart clenched, because in that moment I saw his self-hatred. He refused to believe I loved him because he hated himself, and I had no idea why. Was it because of his father? Was he the one who told Noah he was unlovable?
“If you don’t believe in love,” I went on. “Then why even be with me? You can fool yourself all you want, but I know it’s not just about sex. I know you feel something for me, too.” I moved closer, so that my lips were a hair’s breadth from his. “The roots have set in deep.” My whispered words caused him to swallow tightly. “And there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“So, tell me,” I urged.
Terror shaped his eyes. “I’m scared to.”
“Don’t be. There’s nothing that could stop me from loving you.”
“Prove it then,” he said in challenge.
“How?” I whispered.
“When I leave tomorrow, come with me.”
My breathing faltered, melancholy taking over. “I can’t—”
He gripped my waist, pulling me to him. “Why can’t you? If you really believe you love me then I don’t understand how you can let me go.”
“You know it’s not as simple as that,” I said, heart racing. “I have to fulfil what my father failed to.”
His hand clasped the entire side of my face. “It’s not real, Estella. Your father wasn’t cursed. All the bad things that happened to him happened simply due to circumstance. There’s evil in the world, but it isn’t supernatural. Human beings have enough capability for evil, there’s no need for some invisible demon in the sky.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. I wished I could believe him, but I just couldn’t ignore the evidence. “Your sister believes in it.”
“My sister isn’t well.”
“I can’t take the chance,” I said in the smallest voice.
“So, you’ll just live your entire life in fear?” he questioned heatedly. “You’ll walk away from everything you claim to feel for me because of some screwed up belief your father had? He died in a car accident, Estella. The very same thing has happened to countless others.”
“What about my mother? She was only seventeen when she died in childbirth.”
“Again, that’s an unfortunate thing, but it’s happened before. Do you think every single woman in history who’s died giving birth was cursed?”
I frowned. “No, but my dad was so certain.”
“Your father was a troubled man. Why else do you think he and Vee found each other? They could reaffirm each other’s insanity.”
“He wasn’t troubled. He was good. Too good for this world.”
“That may be true, but I still don’t believe he was cursed. And I think deep down you don’t believe it either. Are you willing to sacrifice your entire life for something that might not even be true?” he questioned, his hands branding my waist. His look was ferocious, and in that moment, I knew he wouldn’t let me go easily. If I really wanted to break the curse, if I really believed it was true deep in my bones, then I was going to have to fight him on it.
We stared each other down, locking horns. Neither one of us was prepared to look away first, and I both adored and abhorred his obstinance.
The doorbell rang downstairs, breaking our silent battle of wills. Noah reluctantly released me as he stood and ran a hand down his face. “I have to go. The guests are starting to arrive.”
I frowned at him. “You look tired.”
He gave a joyless laugh. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” A pause, then under his breath, “It’ll all be over soon anyway.”
His statement confused me. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, never mind.” He came toward me now, standing over me as he cupped both my cheeks in his hands. “I’m leaving tomorrow. By then everything will be much clearer, and you can make your choice knowing all the facts. I hope you’ll choose to come with me.”
Then, his touch fell away as he moved toward the door. He left the room, and I sat there, staring off into nothing. He’d given me an impossible choice. The path of faith was clear, I knew what to expect. But the path of going with Noah was filled with so many unknowns. I didn’t know where it might lead. If he was right, and my dad’s curse was all in my head, would I regret becoming a nun?
Would I find fulfilment, or would I be lonely and lost, living in a world not meant for me?
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, but soon the sounds of more guests arriving filled the house. I wasn’t in the mood to socialise, but I knew I should at least show my face.
I left my room and headed downstairs, swiping a glass of Prosecco from the kitchen and knocking it back, enjoying how the bubbles popped and fizzled on my tongue. Old-timey music played from the speakers, currently “Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. People gathered in groups, chatting and sipping on drinks. I was right about it being more of a party than a ceremony. Some of the guests I knew by name and others just by their faces. Everyone had dressed up nice for the occasion. It seemed like Noah had invited half the town, and I started to feel a little claustrophobic. There were way too many people.
Didn’t they know they shouldn’t be here? a voice spoke loud in my head. This house will swallow them up.
I wasn’t sure if it was my subconscious or a premonition, but I sensed tonight wouldn’t be the peaceful, respectful gathering it was intended to be. I was especially on edge when Enda Riordan and his wife entered through the foyer, followed shortly by Kean and Sally holding hands. What? They were a couple now? Seriously?
Ugh, whatever. The two nasty bastards deserved each other.
I didn’t want to talk to them, so I grabbed another glass of Prosecco and scuttled down the narrow hallway leading to the utility room. I climbed inside the dumbwaiter, thinking my childish hidey hole was the perfect place to avoid Sally and Kean.
It was just about big enough I could fold my legs and sit as I sipped my drink. All I could hear was the muffled music and sounds of people chatting and laughing out in the kitchen and living room. Reminiscing about Victor. What a crock.
He’s wasn’t the great man you all think he was, I thought bitterly.
Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a voice protested, “You can’t do this!”
I stilled. It sounded like Vee.
“I have to. People should know the truth,” Noah argued. What were they doing back here, and more to the point, what were they arguing about?
“It’s fine for you to come here, unleash mayhem and leave, but I have to go
on living in this town,” Vee hissed.
“Don’t you get it? You don’t have to stay. You can leave and go anywhere. You should leave. I don’t know how you can stand to stay. It’s like this place has a hold over you.”
“It doesn’t have a hold over me. I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Of course, you do. Sometimes I honestly think you believe you’re old and sick, wasting away like Sylvia. You’re only forty, Vee. You’re smart and resourceful. You could go somewhere else. You’d figure out how to survive. I know you would.”
“It’s not as easy as you make it sound,” she said, weepy now.
Noah’s voice went low, his words emphatic. “I want them to suffer like we suffered. I want to show the whole town that they’re just as guilty because they knew what was happening and yet they stood by and did nothing.”
His words sparked a memory of Kean telling me how Vee would call his house late at night, drunk and rambling about how his dad knew something and did nothing about it. Had Enda known that Victor was violent with his kids?
“Don’t you want me to suffer, too?” Vee asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I should’ve defended you against Sylvia. I should’ve helped—”
“You were catatonic, Vee. I don’t blame you. You suffered worse than I did. You don’t deserve to suffer anymore.”
The affection and love in Noah’s voice was unmistakable when he went on, “Do you think I would’ve come anywhere near this town again if it weren’t for you? This house could crumble to dust, and I wouldn’t shed a single tear. But I came back because you’re still here. Tonight, I’m going to throw petrol on the flames and watch the place burn, and I’m doing it all for you, Mother.”
23.
I blinked and glanced down at the empty glass I held, wondering if the alcohol was making me hear things. Had Noah just called Vee mother? My thoughts scattered, my gut twisting with confusion and dismay.