Authors: Sarah White
Leah
My stomach flutters at the thought of spending more time alone with Noah. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all week. When I left his apartment I wanted to be mad at him, but I just couldn’t find anything to be angry about from our conversation. He thinks he’s doing me a favor by letting me in on his hypothesis, but I believe he’s wrong and has just been hurt too badly to see it. Helping with his dissertation will give me the perfect opportunity to show him the light.
“After you,” he says as I turn to walk up the stairs to our apartments. I smile at his gallantry and begin the climb, but my smile fades and my stomach drops as we reach our floor. My door is open and there are men’s voices coming from inside, shouting to each other. I catch the words ‘water’ and ‘damage.’
I run the last few steps to my unit with Noah close behind me. The building manager, Henry, is there along with three workers. Water is dripping from the ceiling and the carpet has been torn up and piled in the corner.
“What’s going on? What are you doing in here?” I demand.
“Leah! I’ve been trying to call you all day,” Henry says, as he makes his way over to us.
“I’ve been in class. I turned my phone off…”
“A pipe broke above your apartment,” Henry explains. “It flooded the room upstairs, your place and your next-door neighbor’s.” Noah’s eyes widen. “No, not your place, Noah. Number 25, on the other side.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask in disbelief.
“It means you can’t stay here until we fix the damage. We’ve got to get the fans in here to dry the place out and replace the carpet so there will be no mold. It may take a few weeks. We’ll pay for you to stay in a hotel, but I’m afraid the only one with a room available is about thirty minutes out of town and it doesn’t have a kitchen or any of those sorts of amenities.” I feel the tears burning behind my eyes.
“Leah, you can stay with me,” Noah offers.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“I have a big place and I never use the extra room. I’m sure we can make it work for a few weeks.” He puts his hand on my shoulder tentatively and when I don’t pull away, he rubs it down my back in little circles. “It’s no big deal.”
“I hate to tell you this, but there’s more,” Henry says. “Your bedroom was hit pretty hard. Your bed and a few other things in there have been ruined. You’ll have to make an itemized list so the insurance company can reimburse you.”
I feel my knees grow weak and Noah wraps his arm around me to pull me into his chest. The tears I have been holding back slip down my cheeks.
“I was just starting to feel settled and now I have to start all over!” I whisper angrily. Noah uses his thumb to gently wipe a tear from my cheek.
“Come on, let’s go have a look,” he suggests. “We’ll gather up whatever we can salvage and take it over to my place.” I nod my head against him and let him lead me into my room.
The ceiling is swollen and broken in a few spots. Plaster and water cover every surface. Noah loosens his hold on me and I make my way over to my dresser. Water is still dripping from its edge and big puddles have already damaged the woodwork. The last picture ever taken of Lyle and me is submerged face down in a puddle on the floor. It’s too late for me to rescue it; the water has already caused the ink to bleed and the paper to warp.
I feel numb as I hold the picture in my hand and remember the day it was taken. Noah comes up behind me and lightly places his warm and comforting hand on my back.
“I’m sure you can get a copy of it,” he says softly. He’s right; my mother has this same photo in a frame in the guest bedroom back home. I nod my head and slide open the dresser drawers, gathering my clothes.
Together we make a few trips between our apartments, carrying my necessities and moving a few boxes out of the way of the workers. When I finally have the last of what I think I might need tucked into an old duffle bag, Noah slings it over his shoulder and we leave my apartment. I’m grateful that my laptop with my schoolwork is unharmed.
This is not the way I saw my first week of grad school ending, but I shouldn’t be surprised, given the horrible way it started, with me still struggling to come to terms with my breakup with Lyle. Once inside the safety of Noah’s apartment, I can no longer hold in my frustration at the injustice of it all. I cover my face with my hands and give in to a good cry. Noah’s arms encircle me and I am comforted by the warmth of his body and his clean scent.
“It’ll be okay, Leah. It’s just water. I’m glad you weren’t there when it happened. Let’s get you settled.” His big hands splay out across my back. I suck in a few deep breaths and pull myself together.
“Thank you for letting me stay here.” I say. His smile is warm and bright as he brushes the hair from my face.
“Of course,” he answers. “You are totally saving my ass with my dissertation. It’s the least I can do.” I wipe my face with the hem of my T-shirt and even laugh a little.
“I’ll put my stuff in the extra room.” I pick up my duffle bag and head down the hallway, but when I cross the threshold I realize that maybe I haven’t thought this through well enough. The room is empty: no bed, no dresser, not even a desk. I turn around when I hear Noah behind me.
“So I guess I should have mentioned the whole bed problem…” He shrugs and offers me his crooked smile.
“It’s okay. I can sleep on the floor. It’s better than the swamp that’s in my apartment.”
Noah leans against the doorframe and crosses one foot over the other. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I can’t let you do that! No way.” I protest. His smile spreads across his face and he pushes himself off of the doorframe. His mind is clearly made up.
“It won’t be the first time.”
Noah
What the hell was I thinking? There was no way I could let Leah stay in a hotel outside of town and try to get back and forth to classes, but still—this is not going to end well. I’ll call the manager and make sure they get a bed set up in here for her, fast. In the meantime, I’m going to have to work hard to keep my distance.
“Would it be all right if I took a shower?” she asks.
“Of course, make yourself at home.” I grab a towel for her from the linen closet. “You don’t even need to ask. I’m sure they’ll get your place back to livable as soon as possible, but in the meantime, you may as well get comfy.”
Leah takes the towel from my hand and folds her arms around it, hugging it to her chest. “Thanks, Noah. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to commute from that hotel.” Her eyes meet mine and my heart melts a little at the vulnerability I see in them.
“No need to thank me. I owe you big time for helping me with the study. This is nothing compared to how much your volunteering is going to help the project. Without you, I’d be dead in the water.”
She smiles shyly at me. “I’ll just take a quick shower then, and we’ll get started.”
“Are you hungry? I could order Chinese.” Her smile grows and she loosens her grip on the towel, letting it fall away from her body. Other people might not pay attention to little things like this, but I have been studying subtle body movements for a long time now. She is opening up to me and it’s ridiculous how good that makes me feel.
“I love Chinese,” she says, moving toward the bathroom. “I’ll take anything that’s not spicy.” She shuts the door behind her.
“Not spicy?! You’re missing out,” I call. “I’ll order a few of the specials. We can try a little bit of everything.”
Her voice is muffled by the sound of the water running. “Sounds great!”
I dig through the kitchen drawers until I find the tattered takeout menu from Dragon, my favorite place down the street. I order a few of my usual dishes and try to stay away from anything too hot, opting for only one spicy dish. I grab a beer from the fridge and switch on the TV while I wait.
I try hard to focus on the show I’ve found, but it’s a futile attempt. I am all too aware of Leah in the shower, and I keep finding myself looking over my shoulder to make sure I don’t miss her entrance. I shake my head and laugh a little before taking another swig of my beer. I am not sure when I’ve felt this anxious about sharing takeout with someone.
There is a knock at the door—the delivery guy is here. I jump to answer it.
“Hey, Jason! What’s up?” I bump knuckles with him. I’ve been ordering from this restaurant at least once a week for the past couple of years and he’s delivered my food every time. He always throws in a few extra fortune cookies and I always give him a little extra as a tip.
“Hey Noah. Nothing much, man. Got a date tonight?” He lifts an eyebrow and looks down at the extra bag, which is not usually part of my order.
“I have a friend staying with me for a little while.” He hands over the bags of food and the aroma fills the entryway. I suddenly feel like I haven’t eaten in days.
“Cool. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks. See you around.” Jason lifts the small wad of bills up in my direction and nods his head in thanks. I close the door with my foot and step into the kitchen so I can put the bags down.
“It’s here already?” Leah says from behind me. She is wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and her skin is a light pink from the heat of the water. She’s washed all her makeup off and her damp hair is twisted up on top of her head. So unbelievably beautiful.
“They’re really fast. Are chopsticks okay?” I break a pair apart and begin to rub them together.
“Of course,” she says, reaching into the bag and pulling some out for herself. She opens one of the containers, shoves the sticks in and takes a seat at the kitchen table. The table is pushed up against the wall, with three chairs around it. I take the container that has the hot pepper on the top and settle into the seat beside her.
“You’ve had a rough day—if you’re too tired tonight to get started on the study, we can wait until later this week. It’s not a big deal at all,” I offer.
She looks at me skeptically. “That’s such baloney. You’re just itching to get this finished. I can see it on your face.” She captures a few noodles between her sticks. In a mocking tone she continues, “This relationship is never going to work out if you can’t be honest with me.”
I laugh. “You sound just like some of the women I’ve taped during my study.” I quickly get into character and play along. “You are just so emotional. I can’t seem to make you happy. You say you’re ‘fine,’ but really you’re angry.”
Leah fights back a smile as she puts on her angry face. “You don’t understand me. You will never understand me because you don’t listen. Don’t you care enough to listen to me?”
I scoop up a clump of rice and spicy chicken, giving myself a minute to retaliate. She’s good at this—I wonder if she’s playing from her own experience. “I would listen more if you would stop demanding I tell you how I feel or what I’m thinking. Sometimes I wish you would just say what you feel so we could move on.” This earns a small snort from her and I can’t help but laugh as she covers her mouth in horror. “Yep, I heard it. You totally just snorted.”
She pinches me playfully with her chopsticks. “I couldn’t help it! You sound like such a typical male.” She returns her sticks to her carton and suddenly turns serious. “Are we all that predictable?” Her voice trails off as if she is asking a rhetorical question but at the last second her eyes lift to mine.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin and then crumple it up in my fist. I want to hold back and not taint her hopeful mind with the ugly things I’ve learned about couples, but I can’t lie to her. “Yes. We are that predictable. Not just as men and women, but as couples. We break down all the time over small matters of communication. We’re so focused on ourselves we forget that there’s another person in the relationship.”
Leah stabs at her food but doesn’t lift it to her mouth. I should stop, but I’m on a roll. “If it ends there, consider yourself lucky. If you try to make it work, it can be as if a switch is flipped and you go from being self-absorbed to realizing with frightening clarity that your partner is unhappy. That recognition causes fear at such a deep level that you overcompensate. Your whole life becomes about pleasing them.”
She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. Pushing the food away, she sighs. “I’ve been there. I’d still be there if he’d let me.”
I grab a small piece of chicken with my chopsticks. “I’ve been there myself. You might not be able to see it now, but he’s doing you a favor cutting you free. By letting you go—forcing a breakup—he’s stopping you from living your life for him when he doesn’t feel the same way. He may not be in love with you, but letting you go after seeing you flip that switch tells me he cares about you.”
She reaches for her food again. “It stings.” The crack in her voice sends me back to a time when I felt the same way. I know how badly it hurts.
“It will.” I take a mouthful and try not to look at her face.
“For how long?” she asks. “How do you get over it?”
“A long time. I don’t know if you ever truly get over it. You learn from it. You learn to live with the sting until it stops hurting, but the wound is always there. Get up every day and live your life. Try new things and rebuild a life on your own until all the little moments in your life that were filled with that other person become filled with something else.” It’s the most honest answer I’ve ever given anyone.
We sit for a minute, both of us playing with our food but not really eating it. As I gather up another mouthful, Leah reaches across the table and steals it.
“Maybe some spice will fill the space.” She brings the food to her mouth and I watch her lips slide along the chopsticks. Her eyes close as she studies the flavor. A smile stretches across her face and her eyes pop open. “That’s really good,” she says and reaches for another bite.
I tip the carton in her direction and latch my foot around the leg of her chair, pulling her alongside me. I put my arm around her and pull her into my chest. “I won’t promise you that you will forget him, but I can promise you that eventually thinking about him won’t hurt. There isn’t a lot of fanfare. One day you’ll think of him and find yourself surprised that the memory no longer comes with the sting.”
I’m not sure what’s happening between us, but being around her feels like being home.
Chapter 9
Leah
I breathe him in as he holds me against his strong chest. I close my eyes and let the warmth of his body warm my cheek. We have both been on the receiving end of a very painful heartbreak. That one thing seems to be the force that is pulling us closer. I look up into his eyes. “Does it still sting for you?”
Noah brushes my hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. “No. It doesn’t.” I smile back at him. It’s starting to feel like I’m in the company of an old friend.
“Well, your view on relationships is a bit of a downer, but you’ve given me hope that maybe I can survive Lyle.” I turn my back to him and lie against his chest, stretching my feet out to the chair across from me. I don’t feel hungry anymore so I push the carton of food away from me and wrap my arms around my stomach.
“So have you dated anyone else seriously since the break-up?” I ask. I’m glad I’m not facing him right now or he would see the way my cheeks flush. His answer doesn’t come right away. Like me, he pushes his food away and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“Me? No. No one serious. Like I said, I won’t go down that road again.”
“Where does that leave someone your age? If you don’t plan on dating anyone seriously, then what kind of relationships do you have?” I know what I saw when I first moved in. The rage on that woman’s face said more than ‘casual friendship.’
“I have short relationships.” His tone is flat. I sit up and turn around to face him.
“Does it work? You don’t find yourself falling for any of them?” He smiles at me again but it falls quickly. His eyes look away from mine.
“It works in its own way. No, I don’t fall for them, and if they get a little too caught up in me, I do what it takes to end it.” I feel my brows pull together in question.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper. It’s as if we are sharing a secret between us.
Noah draws in a big breath and leans back in his chair. “I’m not a good guy, Leah. I’m an excellent friend, but a terrible boyfriend. Hell, I wouldn’t even call myself a boyfriend, more like a friend with benefits.” He kicks at something invisible on the floor. “I like to keep things simple. I have girls over to have a little fun. There’s been a lot of women over the last few years and if it tells you anything about how it ends, I’m not in touch with any of them right now. We take care of business and then go our separate ways. I try not to overlap any time I’m with one woman before I move on to the next, but if I’m honest I have to say that I don’t really put too much effort into that. What you saw a few days ago was the outcome of a recent slip-up in that area.”
“Doesn’t it get lonely?” I ask, closing up the takeout containers. Noah follows my lead.
“That’s the whole point. I don’t give a lot of space for the lonely to creep in.” I get the message loud and clear. He’s got a revolving door of sexual partners and staying with him is going to give me a front row seat. No, thanks. He doesn’t see it this way, but it sounds self-destructive to me. I stand up and gather up the cartons.
“I won’t stay long. I don’t want to get in the way of your coping tool.” I say it jokingly, but I am serious.
“Stay as long as you need. I’ll find ways to do what I need to do.” At least he’s honest.
“Are you ready to get started on those videos?” I ask, changing the subject. I put the food into the fridge. Noah leans on the counter beside me and watches my face carefully. I force myself to smile at him and tuck my hair behind my ear. I don’t have any claim on him, but I feel a pang in my chest when I imagine that if I weren’t here he would probably be with another woman.
“I’ll go get the video set up,” he says. “We need to go over the things you’re looking for and how you would rate them. We can watch one couple tonight for practice. I need you to sign a confidentiality form also. It’s standard practice for my psych assistants.”
“Of course. I’ll be right out.”
Noah turns and makes his way to the living room. I close my eyes and tell myself that he’s an adult and can make his own choices. I don’t need to rescue him from himself. I’ve only been with Lyle, but I know that it’s not so easy to separate sex from love. Noah can act as if he has found the answer, but I know better.