by Leddy Harper
I’d thought about reaching out to him numerous times over the last two days, but I could never find the courage to actually follow through. The pained expression in his eyes after I left him the other night was enough to sway me from contacting him. I wasn’t sure I could’ve handled hearing the pain in his voice as well.
Shari knew something was up. She’d tried to get me to talk several times at work, but I refused to explain it all to her. She’d been at the awkward dinner, she saw how he’d acted and witnessed his despair. I didn’t need to give her the details of what had followed.
In the midst of playing around with some photos I’d taken for work, my phone went off, alerting me of a text. My heart skipped a beat. But as soon as I read the name, it fell silent in my chest again. It was only Shari, asking me about getting together sometime this week.
I gave her a robotic response. She’d been trying to make plans to hang out for the last few days, but I’d declined them all. I guess part of me had hoped I’d hear from Nolan, and I wanted to be available for him. I hated how pathetic I’d become, but it couldn’t be helped. I wanted him, just one text…anything.
More messages came in from Shari. More begging and a few threats, until I eventually ignored the alert tone. She finally got the point and left me alone.
It wasn’t until I plugged my phone in a few hours later that I decided to read through the messages, wanting to clear the notifications from my phone. Amongst a handful of texts from Shari, I had one from someone else. Someone who made my heart accelerate to erratic pounding.
Beautiful Boy: I love you.
That was it. One line. But it was all I needed to see. Those three words sent me soaring. They gave me the strength to get through one more day.
I sent him one back, saying the same thing, but I never got a response. And that was okay. I didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation about what he’d been up to. All I needed to know was he was all right and he still loved me.
The following morning, I woke to another text.
Beautiful Boy: The orange glow in the sky right before the sun rises.
Me: ???
But he didn’t respond. I must’ve checked his message a hundred times before lunch, hoping I could decode the purpose. But I never could.
After work, I got another.
Beautiful Boy: Raindrops on a leaf.
Again, I sent him a series of question marks, and asked what he’d meant. But he still never responded.
Just before bed, another came in.
Beautiful Boy: The sound of the river at night, when everything else is silent and the sky is too dark to see.
I decided not to respond, but while staring at his words, another message came in, almost immediately following the last.
Beautiful Boy: I love you.
I replied to that one, telling him once again I loved him, too, and then I lay in bed as my thoughts grew louder and louder in my head.
His texts confused me. I couldn’t decipher if this was his way of seeking reassurance. And I hated to think I had something to worry about. Part of me didn’t believe that was his intention for the messages, but another part, the louder part of my brain, took me back to the night I found him in bed. The night I found the empty pill bottle in his bathroom.
But he’d flushed them.
I had to remind myself he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d saved himself, and I had to trust he’d do the same thing if ever faced with the option again. However, it was hard to have so much faith in a man when the last time you saw him he was so broken.
Those eyes…those hazel eyes wouldn’t stop haunting me no matter how hard I tried to ignore them. No matter how much effort I put into imagining the pair with intense green flecks, the ones alive with vibrant color. The hazel color that would stare back at me and tell me just how much he loved me without ever having to hear those words.
At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep, but I knew by the way I woke up groggy it had been late and left me with very little sleep. The first thing I did after opening my eyes was grab my phone from my nightstand and read the message awaiting me.
Beautiful Boy: Random spots of blue peeking through grey rain clouds.
I jumped out of bed and pulled my blinds up so I could see the sky. Sure enough, it was a cloudy day with sporadic blue showing through—a visual depiction of his words.
I still had no idea what these messages meant, but I assumed they were Nolan’s way of sharing his day with me. I wanted to call him and let him know he could still talk to me, but then I realized I’d told him he needed to do this on his own. And if this was his way of communicating, I was okay with it.
Late afternoon, I received another one.
Beautiful Boy: The smile on a little girl’s face when she gets a balloon.
And then right after, another one.
Beautiful Boy: And her laugh.
“What are you smiling about over there?” Shari came up to me at my desk and tried to peek over my shoulder.
I locked my screen and put my phone down before she could read anything. His messages were personal to me, and I wanted to cherish them. I wasn’t ready to share them with anyone quite yet.
“Just a joke I saw on Facebook,” I said, passing it off. Although, the look on her face told me she didn’t buy it. Thank God she didn’t press for more details and walked away with a shrug.
“Are we still getting together tomorrow after work? Mike won’t be back from his trip until late, so you have me until like nine.”
My stomach sank momentarily. I didn’t want to think about Mike’s trip, because it would only remind me of Nolan’s reaction to being invited. Which, in turn, made my heart shatter over the vast difference in attitudes between Mike and Nolan. I hated to think about it. All I wanted to do was make things better for him, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I’d never be able to get him to the places he refuses to go.
“Yeah. Sounds good. But you’re bringing the wine. And I get to pick the movie.”
“Can I make a suggestion at least?”
I quirked my eyebrow at her. “We’re not watching Fifty Shades…it’s completely unfair. After it’s over, you get to see Mike, and I’ll be left at home all alone. I’m thinking it’s more of a Pitch Perfect kinda night.”
“Acca-awesome.”
“Never say that again.” I fought my own facial muscles to suppress the grin wanting to form. I knew I was in need of some girl time, and there was no one better than Shari to give it to me. Even if she did say the lamest things I’d ever heard come out of someone’s mouth.
That night, I’d gone to bed without receiving a text from Nolan, and it made my heart bleed out into my chest and flood my lungs, preventing me from breathing properly. I’d grown so used to hearing from him before bed for the last two nights, his absence literally caused me pain.
But when I woke up, he more than made up for his silence the night before. The time stamps on his texts showed they started at three in the morning.
Beautiful Boy: Streetlights on an empty road.
Beautiful Boy: Wind in my face when it’s too dark to see anything.
Beautiful Boy: Birds flying in a perfectly synchronized V together.
And the last one came moments before I woke up.
Beautiful Boy: I love you.
I sat in bed and debated a response for several long minutes, each tick of the clock forcing my heart to beat faster, harder. By the time my ribcage became battered and bruised, as if I’d been hit with an airbag from the inside, I typed out my reply, sent it, and then I put my phone down to prevent myself from obsessing. If I waited much longer to get ready for work, I’d be late.
Me: I’m unsure what your messages mean, but I appreciate them. I love you, too, Nolan. Don’t ever forget that. I’m always here for you when you’re ready to talk. I have no idea what you’re going through, but it’s clear from the last few days it’s something. I only hope it’s something good. But either way, I’m he
re.
I got out of my shower…no reply.
I got to the studio…nothing.
I set up for my first client…silence.
Hours came and went with no messages from Nolan. To be honest, I was a little surprised, since I’d responded to him less than fifteen minutes after his last text. But I had to remind myself that over the last few days, his responses came in whenever he chose to send them, not when I expected them.
I’d tortured myself for half the day, trying to interpret what his messages meant. It proved to be impossible, considering I had no idea where his head was at. The last time I saw or actually spoke with him, he was in a very dark and lonely place.
I didn’t know if they were cries for help.
I prayed they weren’t desperate pleas.
But as I thought back to each and every one of them—which I pretty much knew by heart since I’d read them so many times—I had a hard time believing they were.
They seemed so full of hope.
Which could’ve been wishful thinking.
My finger hovered over the keypad on my phone when Shari walked over. I wanted to ask him if I had anything to worry about, but her presence made me close out of the message app and put my phone away.
Her narrowed eyes let me know she was onto me, yet she never said anything. Instead, she grabbed her purse off my desk and headed to the front door, shouting over her shoulder, “If I get to your house first, I’m picking the movie. And what I choose will make Christian Grey look like a pansy.”
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me, and then I followed her out. At this point, I no longer cared what we watched as long as I had some company and distraction. I couldn’t stand the sound of my own thoughts any longer.
My phone pinged from my purse on my way home, and I found myself begging for a light to turn red so I could read the message. I didn’t even know who it was from, but the idea of it being Nolan left me impatient and beyond eager.
Lady Luck had added me to her shit list years ago, so it came as no surprise I hit every green light on the way home. And then Shari pulled into my driveway right behind me, not allowing me a moment to myself before opening my car door. It was as if she possessed some sort of power to know I had a text waiting for me, and found humor in not giving me time to read it.
I unlocked my front door and made a beeline to the bathroom while leaving Shari to pour the wine. I couldn’t wait a moment longer to check my phone, and needed to be alone to do so.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to share things with my best friend, but after she’d witnessed Nolan’s meltdown last weekend at dinner, I didn’t think I was ready for her opinion on the subject.
Beautiful Boy: Completely naked in the middle of nowhere.
A laugh vibrated inside my chest, yet my eyes burned. His texts had become more and more cryptic, and the not knowing began to eat at me.
Me: Are you listing things on your bucket list??
His response came in immediately, and I released the heavy breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. I must’ve been holding it for days, because it was loud and long, and it left me lighter than air once it was out.
Beautiful Boy: If I were listing things on my bucket list, I would have said something like…you in a white dress. Or your last name being the same as mine.
The burning behind my eyes intensified until streams of tears ran down my face. His words should have calmed the raging storm inside, but they did the opposite. They left me with even more questions until I found myself calling his phone.
I was quickly sent to voicemail before another text came through.
Beautiful Boy: I can’t talk on the phone…too loud. I wouldn’t be able to hear you.
Me: Where are you?
I stared at my phone for so long and became so absorbed in waiting for a reply, the knock on the bathroom door startled me.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” Shari asked, yelling louder than necessary. “You’ve been in there for like ten minutes.”
I flushed the toilet—even though I hadn’t even used it—and called out, “It has not been that long. And I got sidetracked with Candy Crush.” I flung the door open in time to catch her look of disbelief.
Shari had designed my bullshit meter.
I couldn’t get anything past her.
“Give me your phone.” She held out her hand with the other propped against her hip. “You swore off that game months ago when you couldn’t get past level fifty.”
I pushed my phone into my back pocket and walked around her. “It was level sixty-seven, and I figured it was worth another try. Turns out, I still can’t beat it. Now where’s my wine?”
We went out to the living room and each took our spots on the couch with our glasses of wine. I couldn’t help but remember the last time we did this…which had been the night Nolan reached out for the first time.
Thinking of that made me yearn to text him again. And after ten minutes of trying to convince myself not to, I finally gave in, ignoring the holes Shari’s stare burned into the side of my head.
Me: So are you going to tell me what these messages mean?
I locked my phone and turned my attention back to the movie, but it didn’t take long for it to vibrate in my hand. I knew this would spark interest with Shari, and she’d more than likely want to talk about it, but I couldn’t ignore the burning in my hand caused by my phone.
Beautiful Boy: They’re things that make me happy. I wanted to let you know what they were.
The grin on my face began to cause pain in my cheeks, but I couldn’t make it go away. It’d been the first smile in a week, and I never wanted to let it go.
Me: Will I ever get to hear about them in person? I miss you.
Of course, he didn’t respond.
I held onto my phone for the remainder of the movie, checking it every now and then with the hopes I’d somehow missed the vibration. However, no matter how many times I checked it, I still had nothing to see.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t let me watch what I wanted to. You’ve been preoccupied by your phone this entire time. It’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it, yet you sit here and act like everything is fine when we both know it isn’t. Meanwhile, I’m the one being tortured by this chick flick.”
“There’s nothing to really talk about, Share. I have no idea what’s going on, so nothing I say will make any sense to you. Unless you’ve suddenly become Nolan’s confidante, I doubt you’ll have any insight for me. And I haven’t been on my phone.”
“You’ve checked the screen like every ten minutes. You’re either waiting for someone to call, text, or email you…or you’re looking at the time.”
I tossed my phone onto the coffee table and turned to face her. “Nolan has been texting me, but I can’t seem to figure any of it out. For two days now, I’ve been receiving these random messages from him. Today has been the first time he’s actually responded to anything I’ve said to him.”
“He hasn’t called you?”
I shook my head. “After dinner on Sunday, I told him how he should start helping himself, and how I can’t be his reason for survival anymore. I think he took it as me leaving him.”
“But you said he’s been sending you messages.” Her voice lifted at the end, as if seeking confirmation on her statement.
I nodded, not sure how to respond. Instead of trying to explain, I handed her the phone and let her read them for herself.
Her chin jutted out while she read, and then her lips pursed. Finally, a smirk appeared before she handed me back the phone.
“Sounds like he’s doing better. I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but you also know me better than that. I think he’s figuring things out on his own—like you’ve asked him to do—and when he’s ready, he’ll share it with you. He just needs time.”
I signed and leaned farther into the couch cushion. “I know. I just hate it because I feel so helpless. I didn’t m
ean he couldn’t share things with me. He put all this pressure on me…like he couldn’t save himself. And I didn’t like it. But not once did I ever want him to think he had to be completely alone. I only wanted him to learn he’s capable of relying on himself.”
“I think he knows that. And I think it’s exactly what he’s doing. He hasn’t cut off ties with you, Novah. He’s been texting you with things that make him happy. It’s what you both wanted, right? I mean…he came to you because he’s tired of seeing the ugliness in life. And you want him to discover this on his own. I honestly don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Just then, both her phone and mine chirped at the same time.
Beautiful Boy: Bare feet in a puddle of water.
“Mike is on his way home. I can tell him I’ll see him later if you want me to stay…” Shari watched me with soft eyes, letting me know how much she cares for me.
“No. I’ll be fine. Go see your man and do things that will make Christian Grey look like a pansy.” We both laughed, but by the flush in her cheeks, I knew my statement wasn’t far off.
“You know I love you. I’m here for you anytime.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a tight hug.
As soon as the front door closed, my phone chirped again from the couch.
Beautiful Boy: An elderly couple holding hands on the sidewalk.
Me: Are these things you’ve seen, or just thoughts that come to you?
Once again, he proved this was his game and not mine. He didn’t respond. Instead of staring at my phone until his messages were blurred, I decided to clean up the living room.
After everything had been put away, I move on to my bedroom to keep me from obsessing. Although I was left to laugh at myself for how quickly I dove onto my bed once the text alert came through.
Beautiful Boy: I tell you things as I see them.
I wanted to know the places he’d gone in order to see these things, but I refused to ask. All I needed to understand was he’d gone out of his house. Even if he did nothing other than stand at the end of the boat slips behind his condo, at least he hadn’t cooped himself up in his place. I had to be thankful for that.