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A nurse was fixing his IV. Neither of them noticed me in the doorway at first. Chilled to the bone while my throat burned, I stood there and watched. His eyes, perpetually flashing with mischief and humor were glossed and aimed at the ceiling, unblinking, his mouth trembling.
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces for him but I refused to cry. He needed me and I was going to be there for him the way he’d been there for me. “Noah.”
His bandaged head turned slowly and his haunted eyes met mine. That’s when he began to cry. His face remained completely still as tears ran down his face.
The nurse glanced between the two of us and left the room. I was at his bedside a second later, my legs moving of their own accord.
He sat up abruptly and grabbed me, pressed his face into the curve of my shoulder, and held me tightly while I did my best to soothe him. My arms gentle around his neck. My whispers quiet in his ear while his big body shuddered and jerked with each silent sob.
I don’t know how long we sat like that. Time became elastic, stretching and expanding. The only thing that marked the passing of it was the quiet broken by the sound of a different voice. A new one.
“Noah?”
We both looked up at the doorway to find Crystal standing there, her expression a dead giveaway that she was unhappy about finding us like that.
Stiffly, she walked to the other side of his bed, the awkwardness palpable but I wasn’t about to move.
“I’m so sorry.” Her expression did little to validate her words. Which kind of surprised me. And yet what happened next surprised me even more.
“I want you to leave.” Noah’s voice was flat, toneless in a way that said he’d made up his mind and there was no changing it.
“What do you mean?” Worry blinked on and off on Crystal’s face.
“I said I want you out. It’s over…We’re over.” A dangerous mix of emotions swirled beneath the surface of his calm exterior.
She tried to take his hand but he ripped it away. That’s when he finally glanced up at her. “It’s over, Crystal. We’re done. You can leave now.”
“You’re in shock. Your parents just died––”
“Leave!” he shouted, wincing afterward. Lord knows how much physical pain he was in.
The nurse came running back into the room. Seeing Crystal made her frown. “Miss, only one visitor at a time. You need to leave.”
Crystal blinked over at her and then, expression switching between confusion and anger and acceptance, she slowly walked out.
Two days later I drove Noah back to an empty house. Four days after that we buried his parents.
* * *
Having been ambushed by Crystal, I never did get to talk to my father. With that in mind, a few days later I head over to the house around early evening. On Wednesdays my mother has her book club meeting and my father is free to do…well, nothing. Otherwise she would have him fixing something around the house.
“Dad?” I say to an empty kitchen.
The house is strangely quiet. I know my sister’s home because I spotted her bedroom light on when I pulled up. I walk out to the back patio. In the distance, inside my mother’s gazebo, the silhouette of a dark figure catches my eye.
“Dad?”
The figure jerks––almost out of his sturdy brown shoes. “Jesus Christ! Maren, you scared me half to death.”
“What are you doing out here in the dark?” I say stepping closer. I see it then––the light of his e-cigarette.
“Don’t tell your mother.”
“I’ll take it to the grave.” I walk into the gazebo and sit next to him. “She’s out of the house. Why are you out here?”
“Can’t risk it,” he says, looking out at nothing in particular. “She could come home early. If she catches me, it’s all over.” He takes another hit of his e-cig and smiles. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m sorry about the other night. It wasn’t fair to you guys.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing, honey. I should’ve been more present, taken more interest in both your careers. I’m the same with Bebe unfortunately––don’t feel singled out. I get so wrapped up in my work that….well, you know.”
“I know. I’m the same way with mine. So is Bebe. We get that from you––the single-minded focus. I guess we all get that from Grandpa.”
“Remind me to give you his ashes before you leave.”
I nod. “Dad, how come you never held it against him––the way he treated you? You never let it get to you, make you bitter.”
My grandfather was always hard on my father, nitpicking how he did everything from driving to opening a beer can. It was painful to witness.
He takes another hit of his poison. So stoic, my father. Majestic even; his profile looks like it belongs on a coin.
