“You said you’d be there, Ian. You said… when I came home… you’d be there.”
“I’ll see you when I can. I’ll have leave. I’ll come visit.”
“No.” Something inside Noah protested the word, but he shoved it deeper down and locked it away. The bigger part of him was too angry to think, too angry to do anything but try to hold himself together against the betrayal cutting him to ribbons.
“What do you mean, no?” Ian’s voice trembled, but Noah’s pain smothered the sound.
“You made your choice. You shipped me off, you let me go, you promised to be there, and then you fucked off. You fucking enlisted. The only thing getting me through this fucking homesickness, this fucking depression, these classes and this stupid fucking place was knowing I’d get you. That… fuck.” Noah took a breath and dashed the tears out of his eyes. His roommate would be back any minute, and he didn’t want Daniel to see him like this. “I have to go.”
“Babe…”
“Don’t call me that. Just… good luck, Ian.”
“Noah, please. I know you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad, Ian. I’m not anything anymore.”
Noah hung up, then promptly unplugged the phone from the wall and dropped it into his laundry basket.
Daniel came in about ten minutes later. Daniel was an all right guy, and weeks ago he’d given up on asking Noah to go out with him as friends, because Noah was super taken. But that night, Daniel took one look at him and sighed.
“Get up. We’re going out. Whatever put that look on your face will need some old-fashioned medication.”
“Medication?” Noah quirked an eyebrow.
“Hell, yes. The trick is to drink until you can’t see straight, vomit until you can’t think straight, then pass the fuck out for at least twelve hours.”
Noah thought of the phone call and shoved himself to his feet. “Count me in.”
The next day brought regret. Not only because of the marching band hammering his brain into oblivion, the way he’d sobbed on Daniel’s shoulder, or that he’d slept through all his classes.
It was the never-ending ringing at the other end of the line, followed by the answering machine. And when Noah finally got through to someone, Ian had already gone.
Chapter Two
Christmas 1999
Silver Springs wasn’t the same without Ian. He’d promised nothing would change, but his absence not only gutted Noah, it left him feeling adrift in his hometown. The worst of it were the sympathetic looks that followed him into every store and down every street.
Were it not for his dad, Noah wouldn’t have gone home at all. His dad was a quiet man and now more than ever it was a quality Noah appreciated. It had always been the two of them, and they were close. Noah thought maybe Ian’s absence had pushed Noah closer to his dad, desperate to fill the yawing chasm of emptiness. His dad turned out to be sympathetic to his plight. The day before Christmas, he sat down with Noah in front of the fireplace and handed him a beer.
“It’s not easy, but time can take the worst of it away.”
Noah snorted. “Did you just tell me time heals all wounds?”
“Nope. Because it doesn’t. Sometimes things hurt, no matter how many years have gone by. But we learn that life goes on. We adapt. And it’s possible to be happy again even if we still hurt sometimes.”
Noah nodded and took a sip of beer. “Thanks for not saying something stupid. Like how young I am or how I’ll find someone else.”
“Well,” his dad paused. The leather chair creaked when he leaned back. “Both those things are true, but I’m not sure how helpful it would be to remind you.”
“It must have sucked when Mom left,” Noah said in a rush. They didn’t often talk about her. She’d taken off in the middle of the night when Noah was a few months old. He now understood the sadness he’d seen in his dad’s eyes from time to time.
His dad nodded. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for damn sure. But we got through it together.”
He didn’t say much after that. The implication was there, though. That no matter what, he’d be there for Noah.
Christmas morning, Noah was up before his dad. He brewed a cup of coffee, wrapped himself up tight in a blanket and sat in the window seat in the living room. He set his coffee down nearby and brought the phone over. But there was no one to call.
Ian wasn’t there. He should have been. Noah wanted to have dinner with his dad, then meet up with Ian and drive around town and look at the Christmas lights.
Noah stared out the window and watched the sun come up alone. His coffee sat empty and his Dad brought him a fresh one and a stack of whole wheat toast and raspberry jam.
“Merry Christmas, Noah.”
“You too, Dad.” Noah picked at his toast. He hated himself for being unable to be happy. Christmas day and he was home with his dad. He should be able to at least pretend to be happy for a few days, if for no other reason than to make his dad happy. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know I’m not good company.”
A box appeared in the corner of Noah’s vision. “Stop being sorry and open your damn presents.” The smile on his dad’s face lifted his spirits, and Noah took the box. He set the toast aside and started tearing into the paper. The box was an unassuming brown cardboard box and Noah popped the tape open.
“Holy shit,” Noah tossed the wadded-up newspaper aside. “A camera.”
“Digital. With rechargeable batteries.”
“This is awesome. Thanks, Dad.” Noah grinned and turned the camera over in his hands. It was silver and shiny, and Noah didn’t know the first thing about using it.
“I thought you could play around with it between classes and homework. Give your brain a rest. It can hook up to your computer and download your pictures, and I got you some of those SD cards.”
“This is awesome.” Noah turned it on and took a picture of his dad. “Not half bad, look.” He turned the camera to show his dad.
“Don’t take too many of me or my ugly mug will break the lens.”
Noah bent and grabbed the present he’d got for his dad and handed it to him. “Did you know you’re the most impossible man to buy for?”
“I’m easy. I like anything you get me.”
“That’s why it’s hard. I want you to love your presents.”
Noah watched his dad tear through the shoddy wrapping job and into the box.
“There’s this little boutique down from campus and they sell all handmade stuff.”
“Noah…” His dad exhaled and picked up the wallet. It was smooth brown leather, rich and dark, soft as anything Noah had ever felt, and stamped with a wolf, his dad’s favorite animal. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” Noah smiled and a thread of happiness wound through him. Noah held tight to it. It lasted through the rest of the morning. Noah and his dad watched Die Hard and drank hot chocolate. Though it had always been just the two of them, Noah’s dad had always made the whole turkey dinner. He didn’t think either of them should miss out because their family was small.