She texted me back a sad face, saying she had been so busy and that we’d catch up soon. She did ask:
And she would die if she knew what those ways entailed.
And that’s how the next few days went, me finding ways to amuse myself, taking care of Sunshine, going to my appointments, and doing everything in my power not to spend every minute of every day thinking about Noah.
I failed miserably. He was on my mind constantly. I also kept reliving those moments on Gladys’s porch, wondering what it would be like when I saw him again.
Because he didn’t contact me. I guess part of me had expected him to since he’d become so important to me, and it hurt a little that he didn’t seem to feel the same way. I tried to be fair—he was there to work and was probably very busy. I guess I had expected phone calls or a face-to-face chat, a text, something. But it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t read my mind. And I could have reached out to him, but I didn’t want to give the wrong impression—that we were anything more than friends who cuddled and kissed a bit.
My disappointment in not hearing from him surprised me. And was more than a little troubling.
Friday finally came, and I could hardly wait for him to get back. My heart sank into my stomach when I got a text from him that said:
I texted him the address.
Had he never been to a student production before?
I wanted to text back Really? Because he seemed like he was doing just fine without me while I was missing him terribly.
And although I was annoyed with him, I did leave my hair down for him. I considered wearing his hoodie to the show but figured that was a step too far. We were cool and casual, and I needed to remember it. He obviously had.
Traffic made me slightly later than I’d planned. I had wanted to hang out with my mom backstage before she went on. It had been one of our traditions when I was little. When I got there, the play was just about to start. Tickets weren’t required, so I went down to the third row and sat near the aisle, putting my jacket on the seat next to me so that Noah could sit there when he arrived.
There were only about twenty people in the theater, and I figured most of them were drama students who had been offered extra credit to come and see the shows of their fellow performers. The curtains lifted, and we all applauded.
What happened over the next hour was a mishmash of things I didn’t want to know about my mother, as it was some kind of one-woman confessional that started with a re-creation of her birth and ended with her current situation of being a student and feeling out of place. I kept checking the door for Noah, but he never came in. He’d probably gotten caught in traffic, too, and I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved that he’d missed this.
The lights came up and I stood, cheering for my mom. I was easily the most enthusiastic applauder. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned to see Noah in a ball cap, wearing the hood from his sweatshirt over the hat. He also had a denim jacket on and dark pants.
“Hey,” I said, feeling surprisingly awkward, both from the lack of contact and not knowing where things stood between us now.
Apparently he didn’t feel the same way, as he said, “I missed you,” and then wrapped me in another amazing hug. I buried my face against his neck, breathing in deeply. I felt like I could happily live in the circle of his embrace.
“You didn’t call,” I said without meaning to.
“I should have. I was so busy every minute of the day. I’m sorry.”
And just like that, all was forgiven. His touch was just that overpowering. “Why are you dressed like that?”
He pulled back. “What do you mean? This is to disguise myself so people don’t mob me. It works.”
“How? You look like the Unabomber. How does that not draw more attention to you?”
“What’s drawing attention to me right now is you loudly comparing me to a serial killer and bomb maker.”
“Whatever you say.” He was holding my hand, and I laced my fingers through his. My heart sighed happily. “Did you see the show?”
“I missed the first ten minutes.”
“What did you think?”
His face went blank, and I realized that he was trying to hide his real reaction from me. “It was . . . interesting.”
“Is that doublespeak for it was terrible and you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings?” Because it had been pretty bad.
“I can tell that your mother really loves acting and the theater,” he said diplomatically.
“She does. Why do you think she named me Juliet? Most of my memories with my mom revolve around being at our community theater with her.”
“Do you love it the same way she does?”
“It’s never really been my thing. But you said you liked the theater. Do you have a favorite play? Or maybe a favorite playwright?”
He seemed to be thinking, and I loved the way he always took all my questions seriously and how he always answered them. “That would be hard to choose. I’ve been reading Sam Shepard’s plays lately. I enjoy them because he wrote from the perspective of someone who was an actor, too. But if you spent all that time in theaters, you must have a favorite playwright.”
“I am a fan of musicals, to my mother’s eternal dismay. Do I lose cool points if I say Rodgers and Hammerstein?”
“Yes, you lose all the cool points. But that’s okay. I’ll still let you kiss me.”
I slapped him lightly on the forearm, and he laughed.
Someone walked up behind us, and I turned, half expecting that we were about to be interrupted by one of his fans.
It was my mother. I hugged her and congratulated her and then said, “Mom, this is Noah Douglas.”
They said hello and shook hands. Then my mother asked, “And what is it you do, Noah?”
He couldn’t suppress his amused smile. “I’m an actor, as well.”
“Good for you,” my mom said. “It’s a hard profession!”
“It is,” he agreed, very good natured about the whole thing.
“Did you study it in college?” she asked.
“I didn’t get the chance to attend college.”
“It’s never too late to go back. You could have a show just like this one.”
“That would be . . . something,” he said, and I felt like I needed to intervene before this got too far off the rails. I wondered if I should tell her that he was a professional, but given how much Noah seemed to be enjoying the anonymity, I decided against it.
“You seem familiar to me,” my mom said thoughtfully. “Like we’ve met before.”
“I get that a lot.” Which was probably because people weren’t expecting to meet a movie star in real life and it took their brain a minute to catch up with where they recognized him from. Because he definitely didn’t just have “one of those faces.” He was much more unique than that.
His phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket to look at it. “My car is here. I’m sorry to do this, but I’ve got to get going. It was nice to meet you!” He waved to my mother and then leaned in to kiss me quickly on the cheek.
“Wait.” I grabbed at his arm, confused. “I thought we were going to hang out tonight.”