Loving Noah Page 2

  My parents had me late in life, and my dad’s already pushing sixty. They’re very predictable older people—in bed by ten o’clock every night as soon as Dad finishes his daily six-pack, and the news is over.

  That means I will be tiptoeing through a minefield of creaky floorboards on my way to my room around eleven.

  3

  Liam – Un-celebrating

  Present…

  October 10th is one day I’d like to sleep all the way through every year. I can’t write the date or see it on my phone without thinking of what happened to Noah in the parking lot of Crossroads High School that day.

  The subtle sway of the subway car lulls me into the memories I’ve been trying to avoid all day. It was four-thirty, we had been out of school for an hour and a half, but the parking lot was still full of kids leaving their extracurricular activities and practices. And it was Friday, so nobody was in a hurry to go home.

  I was leaning against my car when I heard him screaming five or six rows over. By the time I fought my way through the gathering crowd, it was over. Noah was lying on the ground beaten and bloody next to his old Jeep. The word ‘Faggit’ had been painted in red spray paint across the driver’s side. I’d later find out that the passenger side said ‘Queer.’

  My stomach lurched seeing my best friend crumpled on the ground moaning and bleeding from, well, everywhere. I didn’t see who was responsible. I had been too focused on getting to Noah to look at who was running away through the crowd. I do remember them yelling, “Fags get out,” and other gay-bashing profanities. Those words will haunt me forever but especially on October 10th.

  In the end, his injuries weren’t life threatening—a broken nose and a few broken ribs. Considering I thought he was going to die, I didn’t think that was too bad. What an idiot I was.

  But it was the emotional devastation and being outed in public when his father was such a douche about his sexuality that pushed him over the edge. That, and the fact his father took one look at his Jeep and sent him away to live with his, and I quote, “Flakey faggit-loving sister-in-law, Cora.”

  I can’t imagine how bad he must have felt after being shunned from his home, his parents, and his school. It broke my heart and rocked my foundation. I had been considering coming out publically, but what happened with Noah felt like all of the progress I’d made since telling my parents three years earlier was for nothing.

  No one had ever confronted me at school about being gay. Most people didn’t even suspect when I went on to be a quarterback on the football team. Apparently, being muscular and athletic made me a heterosexual in pea-sized brains of the people at Crossroads.

  I never saw Noah again, never heard from him, no text, nothing since our junior year of high school when his dad made him leave. I went to his house two days after the hospital released him. His parents wouldn’t tell me where he was. I don’t even think his aunt’s real name was Cora. Noah had never spoken about an Aunt Cora, and I’ve known him since kindergarten.

  When I asked if I could send him a get well card, his mom looked at me with sad eyes that said I wish I could tell you more, and his father looked at me like I was scum for still wanting to be friends with Noah.

  If it weren’t for Bianca’s dad, Dr. Salazar, I would have thought Noah died after the way things went down. But he kept us updated on his condition and assured us he would be fine. He was there for two days under observation before he disappeared forever.

  I went on with my life, graduated high school with honors, attended college majoring in political science. When I graduated college, I moved to Washington, D.C. to pursue my dreams, and I felt guilty every single day that I couldn’t share any of my successes with Noah. What had become of him? Was he safe? Loved? Educated? Did he continue to take pictures and run track? Was he homeless?

  That last one is the one that nagged at me the most. I imagined Noah didn’t even have an aunt, and he was sent to live in some homeless shelter, and that’s why his dad wouldn’t tell me where he was.

  I never got to tell him I loved him. I was afraid of making him uncomfortable or moving too fast, but I did love him, and I still do. I wish I would have made him uncomfortable. I wish I would have moved too fast. At least then, he would have known one person in the world loved him unconditionally.

  The train lurches to a stop, and the doors open. Stale air is replaced with a different kind of stale air when I step onto the platform. I semi hold my breath until I’m outside where I can breathe the cool, crisp East Coast fall air.

  Even the smell and crunching of the fallen leaves reminds me of Noah and this fucking day. I knew when I left the office, I was going to need some distraction tonight. I called Abe, Theo, and Bianca to meet me for drinks at Ruby’s.

  Ruby’s is an upscale piano bar, which isn’t exactly our style, but it happens to be perfectly located between all three of our homes.

  It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting inside Ruby’s before I head toward our booth in the back. I could have followed Bianca’s musical laughter to our booth blindfolded. Her laugh is infectious, and so are her high spirits—that’s why I invited her. That, and if I had left her out, she would have put a hole through my foot with one of her stiletto heels.

  Bianca doesn’t like being left out of anything. This can be annoying when I’m trying to flirt with a guy, and he ends up leaving me high and dry thinking I’m straight because a sexy-ass woman is hanging on my arm.

  She means well, and I have to love her for that.

  “Hey! Liam’s here!” she yells holding up her empty glass when I approach. That gesture looks like a perfectly innocent happy greeting, but it’s really a request for a refill.

  “Yeah, yeah, you can drop the act. What are you drinking, or do I need to ask?” I say removing the tumbler from her hand and raising it to my nose. “Scotch on the rocks?”

  “You know me so well! I love you, Liam wee-um,” she says, letting her head fall back on the booth.

  “How did you know it was scotch?” Abe asks.

  “Because she always drinks scotch, you doofus,” Theo says playfully slapping his husband’s arm.

  “No, she usually drinks Long Islands. Scotch smells like Band-Aids. Therefore, this is most definitely scotch.”

  Theo wrinkles his nose, and Abe laughs. Bianca places her hand on my ass and pushes me toward the bar. I roll my eyes. “How long have you guys been here? Do I need to cut her off already?”

  “No!” Bianca yells, throwing her arms up in the air.

  “We got here about fifteen minutes ago, she was already like this,” Theo says, holding up his palms in defense.

  Bianca waves a dismissive hand at our friends. “I got off early, so sue me.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’ll be right back.” Bianca is an attorney so that joke works unlike most of her off-the-wall quotes and sayings.

  “He liked my joke! Ha!” she says pointing her finger in their faces. I make my way through the after-work crowd to the bar.

  “One of whatever kind of scotch the pretty lady in the back has been drinking and a Blue Moon for me, please.”

  “You got it, coming right up,” Sebastian says. Sebastian is Ruby’s best bartender. But he’s more than a bartender. He is a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to your woes, and a sexier than sexy hot-ass man. I’ve told him things I shouldn’t have when I was drunk more times than I can remember. He’s easy to talk to and easier to look at with his Latin-lover eyes and olive complexion. There’s nothing not to like about Sebastian.

  He hands me the drinks brushing his fingers against mine. He didn’t have to do that, he could have easily given me the bottle and the glass without making physical contact, but he didn’t.

  “There you go, enjoy,” he says with a wink. I don’t respond other than to lift one corner of my mouth in a smirk. The double meaning behind his comment doesn’t go unnoticed. I like Sebastian, and he knows it, but he’s not a one-man kind of man, that’s why he is s
o good at his job. He makes every person he serves feel important and well taken care of.

  Lately, I’ve been craving more than brief, casual encounters. I’m twenty-five years old, financially secure, and as far as I can tell, easy on the eyes. I keep in shape, I eat healthy, and I’m not a slob. Perfect marriage material, or so I thought when I started looking for ‘the one’ eight months ago.

  It’s hard to find a soul mate, especially when I think I’ve already met and lost mine. Noah… My God, I still miss him so much it hurts.

  Back at our table, I sit next to Bianca and slouch down in my seat listening to her tell a story about her latest win in court. She’s animated and beautiful, and classy and smart as hell. Why isn’t Bianca married?

  Maybe Bianca and I have some disorder where there are too many plusses on a list and not enough minuses.

  Abe nudges my shoulder. “Hey, cheer up. Today sucks, but that’s why we’re here to help you forget for a while.”

  Abe’s sentiment is a nice idea, but nothing will ever erase that day from my mind, no matter how many drinks I have or who I’m drinking them with. I put on a fake smile and give it my best, the same way I always have in the past.

  “I know, thanks,” I say, raising my drink in a cheer to forgetting. Our glasses clink together, and I take a long drink letting the beer fill my growling empty stomach. It was a long busy day, and I didn’t have time to grab lunch. “Anybody want food?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’m starving,” Theo says, with his hand on his chest and fingers spread wide. He’s a dramatic guy, but with good reason—he’s an actor. He hasn’t been in anything big yet, but I’ve seen him in plays, and he is superstar material waiting to be discovered. And I’m not just saying that because he’s one of my best friend’s husband, he’s just that good.

  “Chicken nachos and mozzarella sticks?” Abe asks.

  I close my eyes and answer with a groan, “Yes, God, please, crap food. The unhealthier, the better, and order a big side of sour cream and guac, too.”

  “Oh, I love the way you think,” Abe says, snapping his fingers to get a passing waitress’s attention. He gives her our order taking it upon himself to order another round of drinks, so the rest of us can catch up.

  “Theo, have you heard anything lately about the… you know, the baby?” I ask hesitantly. Abe and Theo are trying to adopt, and Bianca has been handling the legal end of things after their first adoption fell through at the last minute.

  They were devastated, and she was fierce about not allowing that to happen again. “Actually, yes. The adoption agency called yesterday, and they have a sixteen-year-old girl who’s giving up her baby. She’s homeless and knows she can’t raise a baby on the streets.”

  “That’s great. I’m so happy for you guys.” I grin, but it fades when they don’t mirror my enthusiasm. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, no, we’re thrilled, but that’s just it. We’re trying not to get overly excited this time in case something doesn’t work out. Last time was too hard, and this girl has a drug problem. She’s in a shelter for homeless mothers getting help, but she won’t tell anyone the extent of her drug abuse, so we don’t know how badly the baby will be affected.”

  Abe and Theo adopted a sweet, beautiful baby girl six months ago. Lilly, she was perfect, and they were happier than I’d ever seen them. But the mother gets time to change her mind, and that’s exactly what she did. Six weeks after handing her over, she called her agency, and they came and took Lilly away. It was like she had died. They grieved her loss so hard they decided not to put themselves through that pain again.

  Cue, Bianca. Bossy, opinionated and never a quitter, Bianca convinced them to try again. She reminded them in her own way, which is kind of a rude way, that people lose babies all the time, but they don’t give up after one try.

  I tended to agree, but I would never have told them as boldly as she did.

  “That’s understandable. I mean I have no idea how it feels to lose a baby, but I imagine I’d be a little gun shy, too.”

  Abe finishes with our order and joins the conversation, “We’re keeping our fingers crossed and our emotions in check this time.”

  “Does no one at this table have faith in me? I’m handling this, boys, and you’re going to have a healthy baby in no time,” Bianca says, clearly offended.

  Abe reaches across the table and covers her hand, “Honey, it’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s the birth mother we’re skittish about. She has the right to change her mind, and we don’t want to get our hearts broken again.”

  She leans forward and locks eyes with Abe. “Do. Not. Worry.” She slides her hand out from under his sitting back quickly. “I’ve got it all handled.”

  I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. She sounds a little too self-assured, and that makes me nervous.

  “What are you doing, Bianca? Please tell me you’re doing all of this within the confines of the law.”

  She waves her hand dismissively as she so often does and makes a pfft sound. “Of course, Liam. I’m a lawyer, the word ‘law’ is in my title, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, just making sure. You’ve been known to bend a law or two to get what you want before.”

  “So? Bending the law to my client’s benefit is what I’m supposed to do. And if it gets my best friends a baby that I can babysit on the weekends, those laws are going to get mighty flexible.”

  We all sit staring while Bianca finishes her drink and smiles a wicked smile. Holy shit, she’s going to do whatever it takes to get Abe and Theo a baby, legal or not.

  I turn my attention to Theo. “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

  “We won’t let her do anything crazy, don’t worry,” he says, patting me on the arm.

  “So, when are you going to settle down so I can get you a baby, Liam?” Bianca asks.

  “No offense, honey, but I think I’d buy a baby off the black market before I let you handle my adoption. And I have had no luck finding Mr. Stone. I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist.” That’s a lie. I know exactly who I want taking my last name. I just don’t know where to look for him.

  “Ouch! The black market, really Liam?” she gasps.

  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but it doesn’t matter anyway. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be single forever.”

  “Oh stop, what about Sebastian?” Abe says, pointing a low finger at the bar.

  “Oh yes, that man is de-lici-ous. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. I hear he likes to shop both departments,” Bianca says, with a wink.

  “Sebastian and I are friends, only friends. He’s not the settling-down type,” I say.

  “Just the occasional friend with benefits type?” Theo asks.

  “Yes, exactly. Now, can we talk about something other than my lack of a life partner?”

  “Food!” Bianca squeals and wiggles in her seat. For a second I think she’s changing the conversation topic to food, but then I smell the nachos behind me. The waitress places a huge platter of Mexican heaven in the center of the table and then another plate of cheese sticks.

  The four of us converge on the food and kill every bite in a matter of minutes. Then we drink a few more rounds, and by eleven o’clock, I’m so full and drunk, I could roll myself home and slip into a food coma for the entire weekend. And that’s exactly what I do, except for the rolling part.

  4

  Liam – Miami, Here I Come

  The next morning I roll over in bed and immediately close my eyes blocking out the bright supernova light. My head hurts, and my mouth feels like I ate a bag of cotton balls before I passed out last night.

  I was drunk, drunker than drunk—I was sloshed. But I didn’t think about Noah, much, and that was the whole idea. The problem with that plan is that I got drunk to forget Noah, which is impossible, and all it did was prolong the inevitable myriad of memories.

  Now I have a massive headache, I’m dehydrated, and my heart hurts so bad it
’s hard to breathe. Part of my inability to breathe is my fat-ass cat, Billy. He took it upon himself to take up residence on my chest when I so conveniently rolled onto my back.

  “You know I can’t breathe, right?” I say to his smug face. He turns his head away ignoring me as if I were an inanimate object. “Okay, snooty ma pootie, off with you,” I say pushing him onto the bed so I can get up. He grunts, and when I look back at him, he appears to be annoyed. Cats. “I should have gotten a dog,” I say only to have him shut me out when he closes his eyes.

  I shake my head and cross the hall to the bathroom to shower October 10th off of my skin and start fresh with October 11th. When I’m finished, I feel minutely better and decide toast might be a good idea. On my way into the kitchen, I stop at my dining room table and flip open my laptop so I can check my email. Fifty-five unread messages, great. It looks like I’ll be spending at least a couple of hours working this morning.

  I toast my bread and make a cup of coffee in hopes my nausea fades enough to drink it and sit down in front of my computer. Half way through my emails, my computer dings a notification that my friend, undercoverluvr, is online in an LGBT chat group I frequent. I hover the cursor over my next email and hesitate. If I go to the group, I’ll likely spend hours chatting with undercoerluvr and never get my work done.

  But, if I keep answering these emails, I might die of boredom. I slide my finger across the mouse pad and click on the little rainbow colored box on my screen, and a little flutter fills my belly. It could just be nausea from drinking coffee with a hangover. Or it could be that I like this guy and chatting with him is almost always the highlight of my day. I’m leaning toward the latter.

  Undercoverluvr: Hey, you there?

  Me: Yep, nursing a killer hangover. How are you doing?

  Undercoverluvr: I’m good, just hanging out. Night out?