In the hallway, Max stops me. He turns to me and takes my chin in his hand and with the other hand he brushes my bangs out of my face. He stares at me then takes my face in both of his hands. Even though he promised it would never happen again I get the wild notion that he’s going to kiss me. He doesn’t move though. He just looks at my eyes. My heart is racing and feeling him so near makes me feel…like I want him there.
“Noah, are you on drugs?” he asks quietly. That was so NOT what I was expecting. I try to laugh but I can’t because I almost can’t breathe.
“No! Why would you say something like that?” I sputter because it’s a lie. I mean, I AM on Xanax. That’s not what he meant but it’s still a lie to tell him I’m not on drugs.
“I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself lately. I know you’re not sleeping and those dark circles under your eyes would give that away even if I didn’t know it. You’ve lost weight. Mostly though, it’s your eyes. It’s like there’s something missing. Your eyes used to go on forever…like I could look into them and never know exactly how deep they were, how deep you were and now there’s something missing. Noah, you would come to me if there was a problem, wouldn’t you?” He’s still got his hands on my face and I give his wrists a squeeze. When exactly did my hands even reach up to grasp his wrists?
“I’m fine. It’s just the insomnia thing. But it’s good to know I look like a drug addict or something,” I try to laugh but I can’t and all I want to do is fall against him and let him comfort me like the night I cried on his shoulder only I can’t do that. Instead I drop my hands and back away from him.
“Let’s go watch the movie,” I say and lead the way to Max’s room. When we get there he pulls the covers back on one side of the bed.
“Get in,” he orders. “You’re going to fall asleep during the movie anyway so I want you comfortable now. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get someone under the covers without waking them?” he laughs. I shake my head.
“I’m not taking your bed again. Seriously, I don’t know why you let me stay over when it always puts you on the couch.”
“Noah, just get in the bed. The couch is wicked comfortable. It even folds out into a bed if I want it to but it’s not necessary. I’m fine. You’re getting a good night’s sleep tonight.” I take a deep breath then climb under the covers but I’m sitting up with my back against that stack of movie watching pillows.
“Could I maybe HAVE your bed? We could swap. I’ll bring mine over tomorrow,” I laugh.
“Yeah, we’ll do that,” Max laughs too as he queues up the movie. He sheds his contacts and puts on his glasses before grabbing a handful of licorice. He climbs onto the bed on top of the covers and hands me some candy. How is he not fat with the amount of licorice he must consume?
“I think you need an intervention,” I tell him as I chew. “You have a serious licorice addiction.”
“I know, right?” he laughs. “Imagine if I tried drinking or drugs. What a freaking mess I would be.” I look at him and he’s smiling but there’s a kind of darkness on his face.
“You’re too smart to end up like him,” I tell him. He shrugs.
“I don’t think having brains has anything to do with it. It’s better not to find out I think.” We both go quiet as the movie starts.
When I wake up the room is quiet. The light on Max’s desk is still lit so I have no trouble seeing that he fell asleep watching the movie this time as well. He’s on his side, one arm under a pillow and he’s slid off the stack behind him. I rolled over at some point in my sleep and I’m facing him. It seems that while my mind was asleep my body was doing its own thing and I’m kind of curled into him. His glasses have pretty much fallen off his face and lay askew with one earpiece still in place. I gingerly remove them and he doesn’t wake up when I do.
His eyelashes are so dark against his skin. I miss the piercings. He told me that facial piercings close almost immediately so if he wants them back he’ll have to go get it done again. He got them in defiance the first time so I doubt he’ll get them back again. He hasn’t even put the earrings back in his ears and I know those don’t close. His face looks softer when he sleeps. I think I could lay here and look at his face until he wakes up and catches me.
I slip out of bed trying not to disturb him and I fold the blankets over him so that he’s the human burrito this time. Without even thinking about it I kiss his cheek then I turn off the light and go to sleep on the couch in his studio. I’d really rather stay in the bed but not because the couch isn’t comfortable because Max was right. It really is. I would just rather be close to him but I can’t right now. My eyes are getting heavy again. I know I’ll be able to sleep. I have no doubt now and I realize I have a decision to make. I think I may just be in trouble. I file it all away for consideration tomorrow. For now I sleep.
When I open my eyes on Sunday morning, Max is kneeling on the floor in front of me. He has his chin in his hand and his elbow on the couch. “You could have stayed in bed. I would have woke up eventually and come in here,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I really did,” I say as I sit up and stretch. “I should get going.”
“You don’t want to stay for breakfast?” he asks.
“I want to run first. I’d rather run on an empty stomach.”
“It’s like twenty degrees out there. You’re nuts!” he laughs. Yeah, if only he knew.
“It’s not so bad once I warm up a bit. I have a feeling this is going to be a long cold winter. It’s usually not this cold in December. I might as well get used to it now because I’m not going to quit running until spring.”
“It wasn’t this cold in December last year,” Max agrees. He waits downstairs while I change and brush my teeth. Before we go upstairs he stops me.
“You can talk to me, Noah. When you’re ready to talk about whatever it is I’ll listen.” I nod to let him know I heard. I have no intentions of doing that though. Soon I hope things will even out and I’ll be fine again like I was fine for most of the last year. I mean, it has to even out again, right?
When I get home I change into running clothes, check in with Mom and Dad and take the Xanax and then I head out into the cold. I need to clear my head. Running does that for me when nothing else will. I keep to the main streets and don’t end up running out of town but I must have been completely in that no head space because eventually I realize I’ve been running longer than I planned. This wasn’t like the last time though. I wasn’t running away from anything, right? I’m still okay.
To their credit, my parents don’t jump on me as soon as I come in the house. They’re both sitting in the living room and they’re doing random things. Dad is pretending to read a book and mom is crocheting but I know they’re really waiting for me.
“Sorry, I didn’t take my pedometer. I wasn’t sure how many miles I did,” I apologize.
“Have you eaten yet?” Mom asks. I shake my head.
“I want to take a shower first.”
“Okay, I’ll make you something when you’re done.”
I need to call Kimber. I really need to talk to someone. It can wait until I’ve showered and eaten though. I stand under the spray for a really long time just letting the water hit my back. Bless Gran and her massaging shower head. When the bathroom is warm and steamy I do what I do at least a few times a week…what most sixteen-year-old boys probably do at least a few times a week…but for the first time ever I actually think of another person while I’m doing it. The release comes quicker than usual and it’s more powerful than usual and when I’m finished I lean my head against the shower door because I know I’m totally fucked.
When the water runs cold I finally get out of the shower. I dress in flannel lounge pants and a long sleeved tee shirt because right now I need comfort and I don’t plan on leaving the house for the rest of the day. I call Kimber but it goes straight to voice mail. She must have her phone turned off or something. I leave a short message telling her to c
all me
I shuffle off to the kitchen for lunch. Mom gives me soup and a sandwich and a dose of Xanax. I sigh and take the stupid drugs. I do my best to eat. I give up halfway through the meal. I’m too preoccupied and I just kinda sit at the table lost in thought. It isn’t until I push my unfinished lunch aside, make a pillow of my arms and lay my head on the table that Mom really gets worried.
“What is it, sweetie?” she says taking a chair next to me and stroking my hair off of my face. I shrug which is hard in this position. “Honey, you know Dr. Cooper wants you to share these things with us. If you’re anxious or depressed we need to know…”
“It’s not that. It’s…what do you do if you fall in love with the wrong person?” I had NOT intended to actually say that. Yes, it’s what’s been going around and around in my head but I didn’t actually want it to come OUT and especially not to my parents. Why does my mouth suddenly always seem to act independently of my brain? Who gave it permission to say these things?
“Oh, Noah, why do you say that? What do you mean by the wrong person? Is that why you and Sherrie broke up? She didn’t feel the same way?” Now she’s rubbing her hand up and down my back in a consoling way.
“It’s not Sherrie.” Now that I’ve started this conversation I might as well go with it. If I can be vague I might even get some insight.
“There’s someone else? That’s why you and Sherrie broke up?” I try to laugh but it comes out as a weak huff.
“It’s got nothing to do with Sherrie. We broke up because it wasn’t there. I’m just confused. I mean first I think, what’s the point? We’re not going to be here forever and even if we were there’s college and everyone is going somewhere different. So maybe it’s not a good idea.”
“Long distance relationships can be really hard and it would be especially hard for you with your fear of flying,” Mom agrees. This time I manage the laugh.
“Understatement of the year. There are other…difficulties. It’s just the wrong person for me to be with or thinking about being with so I know I should let it go…”
“But?” Mom encourages me to go on with this train of thought.
“But I WANT it. It’s impossible and messed up and I know it’s the wrong thing to do but I WANT it anyway,” I admit and now my heart is really pounding because I’m skirting too close to the truth that I don’t want to admit to myself let alone my parents. Why couldn’t Kimber have answered her phone?
“If you’re sure it’s love are you sure it’s the wrong thing to do?” Mom asks. I just shrug. “I fell in love with the wrong person once,” she admits.
“Really? What did you do?”
“I married him,” she kisses my forehead.
“What?! How was Dad the wrong person? That’s just inconceivable. You guys are like perfect.”
“You know that I met your dad in college right?” I nod. This is no secret. “You know your dad is twelve years older than me.” Again I nod. Then realization dawns on me. Why didn’t I ever question it before this? They didn’t go to school together. Not considering that age difference.
“He was a professor not a student when you met,” I realize. Mom nods.
“I didn’t meet him IN class. If I had things would have been different. We wouldn’t have even considered…but I met him randomly right before the semester started. I found out what he did for a living on our first date. It should have been our last date. It was for a while. We kept it above board that entire year but it was too late. I saw him regularly in class, got to learn what kind of man he was. The connection was already there.”
“So what did you do?”
“When the term was over we decided to take the summer and see what if anything would come of it. I may or may not have had any other classes with Oliver in the future but just the fact that I was a student was a problem. If it happened today maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal but the rules were pretty strict then.”
“So, how did you end up together?” I ask a little flabbergasted when I realize I might never have existed at all.
“We spent a ridiculous amount of time together, getting to know each other better, making up for lost time. We fell in love before summer break was over. He taught for another year and we kept it quiet but when we decided to get married he resigned.
“I was still in school and he was still looking for a decent position so money was tight. You came along much sooner than we would have planned. I was just out of school and in my first teaching position when I got pregnant but things have a way of working out. We moved in here with your grandparents after you came. When your dad got the position in Chicago he jumped at it. I was from Illinois after all and he thought at least one of us should be close to family.”
“So wait, I was a mistake?” This is the first time I’ve heard of this. Talk about a blow to the self-esteem.
“You were no mistake. You were…a surprise,” Mom ruffles my hair.
“Is there a difference?” I ask in a small voice.
“Of course there is. A mistake is something that if you had foreknowledge of it, if you had a choice to avoid it or do it over again you’d change it. A surprise is something you didn’t even know you wanted until it became yours. We love you so much, Noah.”
“Even though…”
“We LOVE you, Noah,” Mom is insistent. “So?”
“So…what?”
“What are you going to do about this ‘wrong person’ then?”
“Wallow for a bit. Maybe if I can stall long enough it will be time to move and it will be out of my hands.”
“You could do that,” Mom says. “But would it make you happy? What if this is your soul mate and you miss out because you were too afraid?”
“I don’t believe in that stuff,” I say.
“You have to believe in soul mates. After all, I’ve found mine,” she kisses me on the head and leaves me alone with my thoughts.
Kimber calls me after dinner. “I’m sorry I missed your call,” she says. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, I think so. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today.” I stop there because I’m not sure how much I’m comfortable saying out loud.
“Did this thinking have anything to do with a certain best friend?” she pushes.
“Hang on,” I say and I close my bedroom door. Then I tell her all about last night. How I felt when Mischa walked in with Max. How I felt every time she smiled at him or touched him or laughed at something he said. How I felt insignificant and how much I hated that. How I was so certain he was going to kiss me when he was holding my face and how…I would have been okay with that. How I fell asleep and woke up curled up next to him and felt safe.
“Noah?” she starts. “It almost sounds like you’re….jealous.”
“Yeah, I know. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. Kimber? I’m so…”I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
“I think you should just say it. I think you should just realize it and admit it and get it out,” is her advice.
“I know,” I tell her. “Of course I know. I love him. Fuck. I’m in love with my best friend.” I take a shaking breath and laugh nervously. “Shit.”
“Holy shit,” Kimber agrees but she doesn’t seem as surprised as I am by this revelation.
“I know, right?” I say and yeah, I got that expression from Max.
“So…you’re sure? You’re gay?” she asks and she’s not judging or anything, she’s just curious….as curious as I am, maybe more.
“I have no freaking clue what it means. I can’t…I need to deal with one thing at a time, okay? I think…”I feel the anxiety. I feel it getting harder to breathe. I breathe in…hold it…breathe out slowly and repeat three full times before I can speak again. “I don’t know what it means and I don’t know what to do about it and I’m terrified. I don’t WANT this. I’m already different enough, aren’t I? I don’t know if I can handle this. This is just so fucked up! But…”
“Bu
t?”
“I don’t want THIS but I do want…him. If I deal with just one thing at a time then that’s the first thing I need to deal with and I’m afraid it’s too late. I’m afraid I’m too…broken. I’m afraid I CAN’T. I’m just afraid, Kimber. I’m afraid to do nothing but I’m afraid to do something. Either one could be wrong. I don’t know how to do this!”
“Shh, calm down, Noah,” Kimber says in a soothing voice and I realize it was escalating and she could hear it. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, I get that. But what exactly are you afraid of?”
“That it’s too late. That he’s over me. That he’s with Mischa now and really just sees me as a friend. If that’s all true then I’ll just, I don’t know. I’ll feel so uncomfortable. Like then the friendship is over too. And I’m afraid that if I do try and he’s not over me…if I could actually have this…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can handle that either but I’m afraid to not try.”
“I don’t think it’s too late,” Kimber says. “If he felt enough for you to stick around after the way you treated him when he kissed you, if he felt enough to stick around all of those weeks when you were ignoring him or telling him off and he accepted your apology immediately then I think it’s more than just attraction. I think it sounds like he sincerely feels something real for you and that doesn’t just go away overnight. Everything else you’re afraid of won’t be resolved by not talking to him and figuring out where you stand. Talk.To.Him.” It’s good advice but I don’t know if I can take it.
“I don’t know if I can,” I admit.
“Maybe you should talk to your shrink about it,” Kimber suggests.
“Oh Hell no! What if he said something to my parents?”
“I don’t think he’s actually allowed to. Isn’t there some kind of confidentiality?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anyone to know. You’re the only one that knows. Don’t you say a word to anyone!”
“Of course I won’t,” she reassures me.
Behind the Falls Page 45