24
He Was There
~Claire~
June 16, 2014
I googled your name and finally got a hit. Honestly, I’ve googled your name often for the past four years. It’s been a while now since last time I did. You start to lose hope after four years of nothing.
I heard a song on the radio that was a different rendition of one you used to play forever ago. I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I called Chris right away (yeah, I still talk to him once a while), and he turned on the radio to listen. I don’t have to tell you how pissed off he was. Especially because the band slowly dissolved in the first year you left.
Chris now co-owns his dad’s garage. He’s doing good. Practically gave up on music altogether, but you can still hear him playing the drums occasionally. I don’t know what happened to Trey and Shaun. When the band gave up, they all went their separate ways.
Anyway, I am so proud of you and hate you at the same time. I can’t believe you wrote a song for your favorite band. I still remember going to their concert with you, my first one. Well, my only one. I thought most of those bands wrote their own songs. Regardless, it’s still pretty cool. Congratulations, Noah.
And now the hating you part…
I’m moving on, as much as I can since I still write to you like a total stalker. But there is still this ache where my heart is. And then I see you in a group picture with the band, smiling, shaking hands, recording together, and I hate that you can smile like that, like you can move on, move on. Like you’re a selfish asshole when I know you’re not. At least, you used to not be.
Good luck to you, Noah.
~Noah~
My songs started hitting the radio this summer, and that’s when the money started coming in. I make a percentage for every album sold, every time someone downloads my songs, every concert where my song is played, and propaganda that advertises my songs. It’s a small percentage each, but everyone listens to music and my songs are spanned out in a lot of genres, so I am constantly making money. It’s insane. And it’s only a matter of time before my family finds out, which is why I am making my way to Uncle Mark and Aunt Katy’s right now and hoping I don’t run into Jonathan, Kyle, Max, or Cyn.
I rented a car for this visit. My poor bike broke down months ago—too many miles on her. I will get a new one soon, when more money comes in. I want to hit a certain amount and never let my account get lower than that. That’s what my dad taught me years ago: always have a cushion. Well, I lost my previous cushion four semesters ago, so I’m raising the bar and waiting.
Right outside of town, I pull into a gas station. Really, I’m procrastinating. Ten minutes away, and my heart is already racing. I haven’t eaten all day, too nauseated to stomach anything. I don’t know what kind of reception to expect. They are my family, but I know they thought of Claire as family, too. And when one family member hurts another, the family is divided. Since I wasn’t there to have anyone on my side, I’m guessing they are all on Team Claire.
As I notch the gas pump into my rental, I hear, “Well, look who we have here.” I know that voice. I forgot all about the person.
I look over my shoulder toward her. “How are you doing, Sassy?”
She ignores my question, eyeing me up and down. “You haven’t changed much. You look older … sexier. I like the rugged look you got going on.” She indicates the fact that I haven’t shaved since I left yesterday morning.
I wish I could say the same about her. These past four years have not been kind to her. She looks drugged up, lost weight, and she has track marks up her arms.
I need to get out of here quick. I have had enough experience with junkies to know not to linger.
Since I didn’t need gas in the first place, I quickly return the nozzle to the gas pump.
“Good to see you,” I tell her, quickly getting back into the car.
I almost have the door shut when she asks, “Are you here with Claire?”
God, simply hearing her name is like a knife to the chest and makes my blood sing. No one has said that name to me in four years. Sometimes, when I hear someone else say it in public, my heart starts racing, and I twist my neck trying to locate her, both afraid and desperate to catch a glimpse of her.
Ignoring Sassy, I let the door slam shut and drive off, heading toward my family’s home. I briefly wonder if Sassy is still in contact with Max, if she will call him and tell him I’m in town. Then I wonder if he is still with Cyn and whether they still talk to Claire. Regardless, I made the decision to come here, knowing someone may mention it to her. It’s time to face my past and all the mistakes I made.
At Mark and Katy’s house, I knock on the door. It feels weird to do that, but it’s the right thing to do.
An older Abby answers. God, how old she is now? Eight? I can’t believe how much she has grown in four years. She still has those big, innocent brown eyes, but her brown ringlets are now straight, and she’s dressed like a miniature teenager in skinny jeans and a tank top.
“Noah?” she asks in a little voice that brings a smile to my face. I was afraid she forgot about me.
“Hey, Abby.”
“It’s Abigail now,” she tells me with some sass that makes my smile broader. “Where’s Nico?” That makes my smile diminish some. Who?
Before I can ask, Katy walks up from behind her. “Noah,” she says breathlessly, like she can’t believe what she is seeing. She smiles widely, opening the door wider before pulling me in for a hug. “Oh, my God, it’s so good to see you. I can’t believe you’re here. Does your mom know?” She seems to realize the answer to that because then she says, “She’s going to be so relieved to know you are okay.” Then she pulls back and smacks my arm. “Don’t ever, ever disappear like that again.”
She leads me into the house, all the while berating me for disappearing, telling me that everyone thought I was dead, and how Jonathan had an investigator looking for me the first year. She never mentions Claire, and I don’t, either.
When she notices that Abby has quietly followed us into the kitchen, she tells her, “Abigail, let me talk to Noah in private really quick.”
Instead of listening, Abby runs up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, a wide smile on her face. Meanwhile, Katy looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. Is it because I am here? Does she hate me to the point she doesn’t want her kid around me?
“I missed you, Noah.”
I rub her back as I tell her, “I missed you, too.”
She smiles as she backs away, then turns around at the hallway and presumably goes to her room.
I can’t get over how much she has grown. No more No-ie. I’m simply Noah to her now. I miss the little girl she used to be. So much has changed. What else have I missed?
I turn my attention back to Katy, and she immediately wipes the worry from her face and plasters on a fake smile. She returns to preparing the dinner she must have been making when I got here, talking about this and that. I answer every question she asks, but I’m not really paying too much attention to her. I’m taking in the house and noting the changes.
I see some of my baby pictures on the refrigerator door and think they must have really missed me to resort to putting them up. It seems a bit too much if you ask me.
When I look back at Katy to answer another of her questions, she has this strange look on her face that I can’t place. She swallows hard, and it makes me uncomfortable. Then she looks down at my left wrist, noting the fact I still hold a torch for my ex-girlfriend.
“Oh, Noah,” she sighs. She comes around the kitchen island toward me. “Please tell me what happened. Why did you run?”
My happy reunion mood deflates. I shouldn’t have let her see it, but I can’t take it off. Even when I convinced myself that Claire broke my heart, I never took off the leather bracelet she gave me. I never tattooed over her birthdate on my wrist. I never let go of anything us. It’s all I have left.
“She hasn’t let go, either,” Katy tells me, reaching into the drawer beside me and pulling out a newspaper clipping.
Katy hands me the piece of paper, and I see Claire’s face smiling. I immediately close my eyes to block the image out. It hurts too much to look at her.
“Look.” I feel Katy stab at the paper in my hands, and I open my eyes to see what she is pointing at.
Claire is wearing the pendant I gave her, and it’s a recent picture. The date is from this month.
I feel my brow furrow as I study the image. Why is she in the news? Before I can figure that out, I see the guy in the image next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Automatically, all those years of fearing this moment makes me stiffen and hold my breath.
Katy feels the change in me and explains, “That’s Jesse. They met in Italy. They aren’t together anymore, but they did collaborate on a project that is bringing them worldwide media coverage. You haven’t heard?” I hear the confusion in her voice.
“No,” I croak out then clear my throat. “I’ve been too afraid to look.” Because I don’t want to know that she moved on. I don’t want to know that I’m the only one always looking back. But, am I? That pendant says otherwise.
“Oh, Noah.” Katy shakes her head. “Between the two of you, it’s a wonder I haven’t died of heartache myself.”
I look away from the image that is already seared into my brain. Her excited smile. The blue svelte dress she is wearing. Her brown hair that looks windblown; still long, wavy, and halfway down her back once again. She hasn’t changed much in these four years. And him. The skinny, little shit with the smug smile. The guy looks like he has a stick up his ass. What did Claire see in him?
Katy takes the paper from me and sets it back in the drawer. Then she proceeds to make coffee, telling me to sit down. I listen, robotically sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought as Katy tells me about Claire’s opera. I don’t know how to feel about it. I think I’m still shocked from seeing her image again. My memories didn’t do her justice at all.
Katy sets a cup in front of me and asks again, “Why did you walk away? Do you know how worried we have all been? God, Noah.” She shakes her head.
“It was a mistake,” I mumble absently. “I saw Claire with Troy.” Rubbing my forehead, feeling a headache coming on, I tell her what I saw that night and admit what I built it up to be, finding an excuse to walk away.
It was too much too soon: the move from the quiet town to loud city, Claire’s newfound friends, not having the time together that we used to have, school, jobs, gigs, rehearsals, her mom dying. It was all too much at once, and I cracked.
I hate change. I can’t jump into something. I need time and quiet and peace to accept something different. I don’t know why. Maybe because my parents carted me off to extremely different environments growing up. Who knows? Whatever the case may be, I wasn’t prepared when Claire and I moved to New York.
I didn’t think it would be so different than when we were together at her hometown. I didn’t account for Claire making new friends so fast. I didn’t account for her excitement and adventurous spirit, wanting to see and do everything at once. Everything was simply too fast. That’s my only excuse.
“Noah.” Aunt Katy puts her hand over mine on the table and squeezes. “You should have said you needed a break, not disappear for years. I wish I could tell you—”
At that moment, her cell phone rings.
She gets up from the table and walks to where it sits on the counter. Looking at the screen, she tells me, “It’s Kyle.”
Shit. I wonder if this is an impromptu call or if he somehow knows I’m here.
Katy answers, and then I get my answer when she hands the phone to me. “It’s for you.” She looks sad, which tells me Kyle is not too happy to hear from me.
Shit. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.
With my eyes closed, bracing myself, I put the phone to me ear. “Hello?”
“You son of a bitch!”
For the next two minutes, I don’t get a word in while he verbally strikes out at me, repeatedly hitting me where it hurts. He yells at me about Claire’s suffering; how she dropped out after her first year and had to leave the country to escape me. “Not to mention other shit I’m not at liberty tell you, fucker!”
He yells about how his parents and my parents mourned for a year. How Max flew across the country to find me, and then passed away soon after, which leaves me striking out at him because the self-hatred and guilt shatters me. I had no idea Max was gone. The last words I said to Max are now something I will regret for the rest of my life.
Then Kyle goes on to spout how worthless I am, how he hates me for what I did to everyone, how he wishes I had stayed gone. By that point, I am done, regretting ever coming here.
I storm out the door, needing to get away from here. Again, too much at one time. I need to get away and cool down. I need quiet. Kyle words are still screaming in my head.
“Noah, wait!” Katy calls, and I hear her running after me.
I stop before I reach my rental and turn around to face her. She is carrying a box.
“Take this with you.” She holds out the box to me, but I don’t take it.
“What is it?” I can tell by the wary look on her face that it’s not what I think it is.
“Letters.”
I visibly gulp. “From whom?”
She gives me a look in answer, and now I am shaking.
When I don’t take the box right away, she thrusts it into my hand. “You owe her this. Just read the letters, Noah, and you will understand why everyone is so angry with you.”
I raise my brow at her like it can’t be that bad, and she raises one back at me like you have no idea. That makes me clear my throat, return my face to neutral, and grip the box tighter.
Glancing into the box, I see that it’s not just letters. There are smaller boxes with wrapping paper, manila envelopes with bulges, thumb drives.
I’m speechless that she would do all this. I don’t know what to say or do, so I put the box in the backseat and hand Katy my card with my business number and P.O. Box, courtesy of the record label.
Katy looks at the card and smiles softly. “Congratulations, Noah.”
I nod then get in the car and leave.
I thought I was ready for this visit. But glancing back at that box, I know I’m not ready to face Claire. Not yet.
~Claire~
I have been back in New York for almost six months now. I didn’t know what I would do for a place to stay since Dare and her roommate still lived at my place. She broke up with Victor years ago and was now dating a guy named Neil who owns his own restaurant.
I called her days after breaking up with Jesse and told her I was coming back to town. After screaming with joy, she told me how great that was because she wanted to move in with Neil but didn’t know how or when since she was renting from me and didn’t want to add more to my plate. It all worked out, and she took her roommate with her to Neil’s.
I bought all new furniture for the place, using a lot of my mom’s since she had nice stuff. I didn’t want the place to look anything like it did when I last lived there. However, I did put up my old curtains. I couldn’t let go of them. Stupid, I know.
Giuliana, Signora Gelardi’s granddaughter, who is the same age as me, moved to the States with me. She stayed in Dare’s old room for a few months. Then Kyle moved here over the summer, and she moved in with him once he got settled into a new job and found a small place for himself. He quit school after getting his associates, and then worked on his EMT certifications. Now he is a paramedic, and in a city this large, he is constantly busy.
The opera house has been insane. I have been burning the candle at both ends with this new job. There’s so much to do with rehearsals, costumes, background sets, composition, marketing, advertising. We have completely revamped our target audience, which has gotten us a lot of attention. The media is literally following me everywhere. When all I want to do is hide my private life, they make it difficult. Hence, Giuliana’s involvement, as she works for me.
Next week, we are going on a statewide tour. Next month, we are hitting the nation, stopping at major cities around the country. By the time that’s over, the season will start. The investors are expecting weeks of sold out tickets. It’s exhausting.
But I knew—I knew—this idea would take off. And as mad as I am at Jesse for jumping the gun, I have calmed down and am now grateful. At the same time, I wasn’t ready for this. I hardly have time to myself with everything that needs to be done. How can I produce and lead? I can’t. It’s not possible. Therefore, I’m only singing for all the promotional bits. I don’t know how Jesse or the investors thought I could do both, never mind wanting to do it.
Jesse was too excited over this opportunity to be heartbroken for long after I broke up with him. He sulked for a week before talking nonstop about this new prospect. I’m hurt and simultaneously relieved. Did I mean so little to him that a week was enough time to get over me? And what does that say about me and my four-year long sulk over Noah?
Nevertheless, every time it’s questioned in interviews whether we are an item, Jesse likes to throw his arm over my shoulder and smile like that’s answer enough, before I smile politely and comment, “We’re just friends.”
I don’t know, nor do I care, if Jesse is doing it to boost ratings by making us some power couple. I do know I don’t appreciate it. It feels like high school with Troy all over again.
To prove a point, I date often. Most dates don’t last past the first one, but there is still a lot of networking potential and some dates I stay in contact with as friends. Then I have PR setting me up with celebrities for functions and charities. It’s for a good cause. Plus, it stops speculations about me and Jesse. However, Dare is always throwing another smut magazine at me with rumors I’m with so and so: dancers, violinists, actors, even an Olympic runner. It’s publicity. How fast it is all happening is another story.
Like Noah. I used to google his name on a weekly basis, just to see, never expecting anything. Then, with the move back to the States, time slipped by. Then I heard one of his songs on the radio. I know I looked him up when we were still in Italy, which means that in six-months’ time, he was nowhere to all over the place.
As staggering as it was to sing along to the lyrics one minute then pausing with a what the hell? expression the next, I thoughtlessly called Chris in my eagerness to share the news. To say he was pissed is an understatement.
Now I’m at the theater, checking props at the last minute, when Kyle shows up in his paramedic uniform. I think it’s odd since I know he’s at the beginning of his shift. Plus, he storms in here like someone is chasing him.
I watch him worriedly as he briskly walks down the long aisle toward the stage. When we meet, he is out of breath, even sweating a bit. It is still hot outside, though we are at the end of September. However, the out of breath has me worried that someone is hurt. Did he bring someone we know to the hospital?
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart starting to beat frantically. “Is it—”
“No. No, everyone is fine,” he quickly assures.
I take a deep breath, putting a hand to my chest as my heart goes from skyrocketing to calming beats. “God, you had me so worried.”
“Sorry. Um … You got a minute? I need to tell you something.” He looks more anxious than upset now.
“Want to sit down?” I gesture toward the auditorium seats. He looks like he needs to. Oh, my God, maybe he’s going to propose to Giuliana and needs advice or a favor.
Kyle and I have grown close over the years. He is like a brother to me. He’s not the joking kid he once was. Now he is too serious sometimes.
He nods and leads the way. Then, when we sit down, Kyle takes a deep breath.
Wow, whatever this is, it’s hard for him.
Concerned once again, I put my hand on his shoulder. “Kyle, what is? You’re starting to scare me.”
“I … I don’t know how to say this. I was pissed. Really pissed. Remembering how messed up you were when he left.” My heart stops and starts pounding again at his words. “I wanted to kill him. But seeing you now …” He shakes his head and looks down.
“Kyle, what are you talking about?” I let my hand fall from his shoulder. It’s shaking now as I grip my pendant like a lifeline. My whole body is shaking, and I suddenly feel cold. “What happened? Why are you bringing up”—I swallow a deep breath—“Noah?”
You will always remember your first love, but life carries on. Memories, feelings, life—it all changes. The emotions you felt at the beginning of a relationship fade, whether you are still with that person or not. Well, not fade, just … turn into something else. A happy memory, something good and uplifting to look back on fondly. Yet, speaking his name, all the feelings I ever associated with Noah spark anew, and I feel something I haven’t felt in years. Hope.
Kyle looks up from his lap and right into my eyes. “I talked to him … Not twenty minutes ago.” He starts talking a mile a minute, and I try to keep up, all the while feeling relief that Noah is alive. “Cyn called me. She got a call from Max’s old friend Calvin, who got a call from Sassy. She ran into him at a gas station in town. Our town, Claire. I called Mom. Noah was there. He was there,” he seethes, “talking to my mom. I got him on the phone and laid into him. I was so mad. And then he hung up on me. By the time I got my mom back on the phone, he was gone.”
Something is stuck in my throat, my heart feels like someone has reached into my chest and is squeezing it, and my stomach churns with acid. I am cold. So cold I start to shiver.
Kyle sees what is happening to me and goes into EMT mode. He takes off and quickly comes back with some fabric. I think it’s part of one of our costumes. He drapes it over me and starts rubbing my arms, causing friction. I hear him yell at someone to get me some water, and then a bottle is thrust under my nose. He pulls out one of my pills, telling me he knew this would happen so he came prepared. All this takes place from a spectator’s view.
Inside, I am reeling. Noah is alive. Noah went to see Katy. Is he coming here? Four years of waiting, and now I am scared to death of the idea.
Wait.
“Letters,” I gasp out, pushing the water bottle out of my face. I search the crowd of people surrounding me, overwhelming me, looking for Kyle’s face. He’s right in front of me, looking back at everyone and telling them I’m fine. “Kyle.” I grab his arm, and he turns back to face me. “Did he … get the letters?”
Kyle nods. “Yeah, Claire. Mom gave them to him.”
I can’t help the sob that escapes. Relief and fear and joy and hope override my emotions, causing me to smile wanly while tears cascade from my eyes and body-racking sobs immobilize me. I fall into Kyle’s lap, thinking that Noah will know soon. Noah will know. I want him to know more than anything.
Kyle continue to holds me, repeatedly telling me that he is sorry for making Noah run off again, sorry for losing his cool. He wishes he would have waited until he saw him in person and punched him instead. That makes me sob out a laugh.
At least he finally got the letters.