“Your physical therapy appointment got moved to ten. Do you want bacon or sausages with your eggs?”
“It’s a damn good thing I got hit by a car and didn’t have a heart attack or sure as shit the way you baby me I’d never see bacon again.”
Noah tried not to sigh. He tried to keep a brave face on all the time. He didn’t want his dad to see how worried he was, or how exhausted. “I’d let you have a bit every second Tuesday.”
Noah’s dad pushed himself up slowly and reached for his cane, something he went nowhere without. He’d hated the crutches with a passion and had raged against them for weeks before he focused his energy on recovery so he could be rid of them.
“You know, Noah, I can manage myself now. I couldn’t when it first happened. You were right then but I don’t want you missing out on your life to play nursemaid to a beat-up old man.”
“Get in the shower. Wash behind your ears. Breakfast is in half an hour.”
“This conversation isn’t over,” his dad called after Noah as he fled the room.
Noah mulled over his dad’s sentiment as he whipped up breakfast. He’d never be a gourmet chef, but he could scramble eggs and fry bacon. He plated their food as his dad walked into the room and eased himself down into a chair at the table.
“I’m not your nursemaid and I’m not missing out on anything.”
“You moved home, son. You upended your whole life. What about your career?”
Noah sat across from his dad and picked up a slice of bacon. “I hated the city for years, Dad. Moving home would have happened, eventually. And I can have my career anywhere. The internet sees to that.”
“When was the last time you were out with your camera and not lurking around behind me?”
Noah took another bite of his bacon, taking extra time to chew while he thought about it. “Okay, so that’s a good point. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll pick up my camera, and you’ll drop this subject.”
“You’re sure you don’t want… need to go back to the city?”
“I might miss my friends, but not as much as I missed you.”
Noah watched his dad eat quietly after that, as if, after all this time of them being their only family to each other, his Dad realized how much he meant to Noah.
When Noah finished eating, he scraped his plate and stacked it in the sink. “I’ll get the dishes later. If I want to get a few shots in, I want to do it before the heat of the day.”
His dad lit up. “Show me later?”
“Yeah,” Noah promised. His dad had never taken credit for the first camera he bought Noah and the love of photography which bloomed from it, but it was that first experience behind the lens that had shaped his love of the art form. It was unlike any other creative outlet out there.
It allowed him to look at things in ways others might not think to, and capture split seconds of time. The longing he felt to capture moments had been in him for years. It all came back to Ian, Noah thought with a fond smile and only a shred of the ache which had once been there. Maybe it would’ve been harder if he’d had pictures, but now, so much time had passed. He’d forgotten things about Ian that he wished he could remember.
The glint of sun off his hair when he stepped into the sun. The light in his eyes when he’d smile at Noah. They were all faded now. He couldn’t remember the way he sounded when he laughed, or came. And though that wasn’t something that could be captured on his camera, he could’ve caught the curve of his smile and the parting of his lips.
The next few hours passed in a blur. Noah walked through his small hometown and took pictures of everyday, seemingly mundane things. But there was magic in the ordinary. Kids racing down the street, towels in hand, flip-flops smacking against the pavement. The freedom of summer and the joy of youth embodied in a single frame. He took a picture in the butcher shop of sausage links, then one of a little girl hungrily eyeing the beef jerky.
There was so much life in his little town and Noah suddenly thirsted to capture as much of it as he could.
“I heard you were home.” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Bridget.” Noah didn’t expect the burst of happiness he felt upon seeing her. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How’s your dad?”
“Better. He’s still healing, but he’s doing good. He has physical therapy this morning.” Noah looked at his watch. “Well, he’s had his appointment already and is probably home napping.”
“I don’t know how anyone can sleep in this heat.”
“I bought an air conditioner for his bedroom.”
“Oh god, can I move in?”
Noah laughed. “You’ll have to take it up with him.” The nearby door of The Silver Spring Cafe opened. The bells jingled, catching Noah’s attention. The cafe was practically as old as the town. “Did you want to have a coffee with me? I could use something to drink and a few minutes of shade.”
“Sure.”
They found a table away from the noisy kitchen. They both ordered iced teas and sat there in a semi-awkward silence until they arrived.
“How are things with you?” Noah asked her. Part of him wanted to ask about Ian, but he didn’t know if that was appropriate or not. He liked Bridget, and he didn’t want her to think he was only interested in talking to her so he could pump her for information about her brother.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Good, now that the divorce is finalized.”
“Divorce?”
“You didn’t hear? Well, Simon left me.” Bridget shrugged. “We’re better off as friends, it turns out.”
“I’m sorry. It’s still tough.”
“It is what it is. I’m through it now. Or at least, mostly. What about you? Any special someone?”
“Not at the moment. I was dating a guy back in the city, but it wasn’t serious.”
“Are you ready for the festival?”
“They still do that?” Noah grinned. They held the peach festival after the big harvest in early August. Vendors lined the streets with all their peach products. Jams. Jellies. Pies. Cake. Even handmade items like coasters, crochet peach potholders. There was an annual pie contest, live music, a huge cook out. It was the event of the year, and Noah had always loved it as a kid.
“Of course they do. They’d never end the festival.”
“There was talk of it after the food poisoning episode of nineteen-ninety-seven.”
Bridget groaned and turned several shades of green. “Oh god, don’t remind me. I still don’t know how Ian ate the same thing as everyone else and didn’t get sick. His stomach must be made of iron.” Bridget flushed. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, Bridget. You can talk about your brother.”
“You don’t mind? I thought you hated him.”
Noah’s stomach burned. “I never hated Ian.” He took a sip of his iced tea as he tried to center himself. To give himself a moment to think about the implications of Bridget’s statement. “I was angry with him, and I acted like an idiot about it, but I never hated him.”
Bridget reached out and put her hand on Noah’s. “Did you want to know about him? How he’s doing? He wouldn’t mind me telling you.”