I opened my mouth and shut it, thinking it best not to say what I wanted to. She could be angry that I left. But my anger certainly felt more justified.
Instead, I offered a peace treaty. “I never asked Rachel to marry me.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Does it even matter anymore?”
It did. It did to me.
Dexter
Anna’s headstone is tiny. It reads words that make me ache with sadness.
Anna Cruz-Andrews
January 11, 2008 - January 11, 2008
I held you for your whole life. I’ll love you past mine.
And I hated Noa. I hated her for every moment she ever stole from me. For making me think I could’ve saved her.
For turning me into the angry person I was, crying over a child I’d never know—a child I’d never get to love.
She stole memories from me.
And now I hated her.
Dexter
Noa was released a few days later, and though I followed her home to make sure she didn’t need anything, after a while it was evident I didn’t belong there. Dylan was safe and taken care of, and while I promised to head back the next day, I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with her—to fall asleep as my son did and wake up when he did. It bothered me that she’d have to deal with his feeding and changing alone. It bothered me that she didn’t want me there, holding her as she slept. She didn’t want me there to help her at all.
When I voiced my concerns, she shook her head, telling me it was okay.
So, life went on.
I went back to work. I pretended I was happy, and though Tammy grilled me for updates on Dylan and Noa, I brushed her off in a way I hadn’t before.
My alarm clock went off, but I’d been up for hours, and when I reached over to shut it off, I realized how quiet my house was. It didn’t always bother me. Not until I realized what noise it could’ve been filled with. Noa’s voice, Dylan’s cries, and Phoebe’s laughter. That’s what my perfect world could’ve sounded like.
I got in the shower and tried not to think about it as I scrubbed my skin and washed the hair I’d have to pull back today. It was getting too long to wear down. The absence of the hot water when I turned the shower off had me reaching for my towel quickly.
I wiped the fog from the mirror, my eyes immediately drawn to the words on my skin. My mind was already Noa’s, but now she owned my body, and she’d always own my soul.
Every time I saw the tattoo, it was like a portal straight to Memory Land where Noa was the ruler—the sweetest hell.
It was no wonder she could so easily forget. I’d been the fool to get a tattoo as a reminder of her ownership of me right where I could see it every day. She’d been the smarter of the two of us to get it somewhere she didn’t have to see it.
But did anyone else ever see it and ask her what it meant? And if they did, what did she tell them? What did she feel in that split moment when she allowed herself to remember that night when we ventured out into the world after hours of lovemaking and marked each other in a way the world couldn’t ignore?
Did I own her in that moment?
My chest constricted at the thought. Even if she was mine for only that moment, I’d take it. Moments strung together like Christmas lights were enough to make the world just a little brighter.
I didn’t wipe the mirror when my image began to cloud with steam again. The dark smudge of the words inked into my skin were still visible. I remembered those four words and what they meant to me.
She only seems free.
She no longer seemed free; she was.
Noa was free of me.
I dressed with care, as I usually did. If I looked like I had it all, no one would doubt it.
I was grabbing my favorite pair of dress shoes when my hand brushed against something. I closed my eyes momentarily before grabbing it and straightening.
My camera. The one Noa had gotten me for Christmas.
What Noa didn’t know was that this device, built with plastics and metals and glass, had moments of ours trapped inside. I turned it on, ignoring the flicker indicating a low battery. A few button presses later and there she was. The smooth expanse of naked skin, her hair piled on top of her head, her fresh tattoo, the bubbles surrounding her. I caught her before I’d started cooking dinner. As I pressed the button with the arrow pointed right, it was like watching her come to life in slow motion. Each inhale, exhale, and inhale—as if she were taking deep calming breaths. If I listened close enough, I could hear the sound of the water filling the tub.
The camera’s screen shut off, and just like in real life, I hadn’t experienced her nearly enough. A story without a conclusion, a movie cut off nowhere near the end credits.
I shoved the camera back where it was hidden. I wouldn’t charge it.
I hadn’t touched it since the day Noa gave it to me.
As I turned off the light in the closet, I shook my head.
I’d likely charge it as soon as I got home from work. Each memory was a hit of emotion. It reminded me that I was living and breathing.
In time, Noa and I created a pattern. And though I tried so hard to show her that I wasn’t going anywhere, she still closed the door every night when I lingered with love in my eyes. It was hard for me to leave them, but I did it because she needed that. And I was still going to be the man to give her whatever she needed from now on.
Dylan grew and grew under the unconditional love Noa gave him. She was exhausted, and I always offered to stay over to watch him, but she’d just tell me it was fine, even as her own career suffered. Whenever I inquired about her finances or offered to take care of something, she’d just shake her head. There was never a fight, and that scared me because Noa was a fighter. She was the kind to tell me where to shove my money, but the fact that she wouldn’t curse or raise her voice—hell, even talk sometimes—it felt like there was no hope.
So, when Ralph called to tell me he was in town, I invited him out for dinner. I’d squeezed in a visit with Dylan that afternoon after his six-month check-up, and he was crankier than usual, only wanting Noa—which she blamed on his shots.
I pulled into the restaurant parking lot, happy to see it wasn’t packed. I didn’t mind driving to Seattle because the food was a lot better than in Everett and the scene was more Ralph’s tempo. I was a little early, so when I was seated, I pulled out my phone to call Noa and check in on Dylan. But it went straight to voicemail.
When Ralph appeared beside me, his hair thinning a bit already at the top of his head, I grinned.
It wasn’t often that I got to spend time with Ralph, certainly not time when it was just the two of us, without the baggage of adulthood. While part of me yearned for the days when responsibilities weren’t knocking on my door, I knew better than to dwell on it. It was a miracle I’d even been able to experience those moments.
“So, what’s new?” He slid in the booth across from me and when the waitress appeared, he ordered two beers with a wink. Some things would never change.
“How’s Nina?” I asked.
He shrugged before settling in further. “How’s Noa?”
“Touché,” I said as he grinned at me.