Taylor

I bite my bottom lip as I stand in front of the familiar house of my nemesis. I have yet to ring the bell, but somehow I can’t bring myself to. So, I settle for staring at the door, willing it to magically open on its own. 

The door opens.

Holy cow?! 

Noah tilts his head outside. Oh. No magic powers then. Of course not. Noah has to ruin everything. With new irrational fuel to my rage, I stomp forward.

“Hi?” Noah says and smiles, what he must think is a welcoming and winning smile, while letting the door fall open wide. 

I didn’t notice before, but the time away from home changed him. While his lean and muscular build is the same, his skin has obviously seen a lot more sun in the last 8 months, while his silky black hair has grown out long enough to be put into a small ponytail. But it’s not only his relaxed and less put-together look; there is something in his eyes that wasn’t there when I saw him before his graduation. It’s a kind of intensity to his eyes, a focus on the present and the person in front of him. Which in this case is me. I squirm under the gaze.

“Hello,” I say. 

“Come on in.” Noah gives me space with a gesture.

I toe off my shoes at the entrance, peel out of my winter layers, and Noah places a pair of guest slippers in front of me, courtesy of his mother’s obsession with cleanliness.

“Thanks.”

We both go silent. Noah scratches his head and then points up the stairs. “I cleared my desk so we could study somewhere quiet. Should we head upstairs?”

I nod. “Sure.” I head up first with Noah following me a few steps, before he abruptly turns around. 

“Uh,” he coughs, “Go on up, I will get us something to drink.”

“Oookay?” I say and watch him quickly turn and head towards the kitchen. The house's layout hasn’t changed since my last visit, and I easily find his room, while asking myself what that was about. Something about his voice was different, but I can’t pinpoint what.

I get distracted from my thoughts when I enter his room. Opposed to the rest of the house, Noah’s space isn’t like I remember. I’m not sure why I’m surprised. After all, the last time I was in here, we were both children. Maybe it’s because the room has more character than I expected. It’s also unexpectedly tasteful, with a gray and dark green color scheme along with dark wood, which I certainly don’t know the name of, that gives off a sophisticated vibe. There are a bunch of retro movie posters on one wall, and a few plants are placed around the room, along with picture frames and small trinkets from his travels. All I have is a bare white room with leftover furniture from a family friend and a now dead succulent on the windowsill that my mom once placed there, full of unwarranted hope.

I put down my school bag at the desk already equipped with two chairs. I sit down in the fancier of the two and almost groan. After a whole day of school with two hours of P.E., this chair is like a cloud that supports you just right in all the tired places. Of course, even Noah’s chair is superior to my own. Which I admit is a weird thing to focus on, but there is nothing I can do. It’s ingrained in me to compare everything about myself to him. Mom made sure of that.

“That’s my chair.”

I spin around on said chair with a smile I hope is nothing but angelic. “I know.”
Noah huffs, and for a second, I have the odd feeling that this is a version of Noah I don’t know. A second later, the impression is gone as he sets down our drinks and a plate with some snacks. 

“Since you came here right after school, Mom said I should give you some snacks to keep you from dying of hunger.”

“A wise choice,” I quip back and hate myself for it. Not even a minute in his presence, and I abandon all my resolutions. 

Frustrated, I take half a sandwich and a few grapes while he sits down next to me. 

“So, I’m obviously not a trained teacher, which is why I thought we could talk about expectations and how to approach this best, so it can be a good learning environment for you. Learning types and all that.”

I swallow down my bite–this sandwich is tasty as hell, and I will hate my taste buds forever if Noah is the one who made it–and answer: “Well, I’m usually a learning by doing kind of guy. Back when Mom tried to teach me more German, she quickly discovered that I learn the fastest by speaking with her. But now, I’m completely out of practice when it comes to speaking, and I always have to rely on a translator app when I have to message my grandparents.”

Before coming here, I debated whether to take these lessons seriously or not. But all in all, whatever impression I’ve made so far, I’m not an idiot. It’s not a bad thing to practice German, especially when it comes to the language certificate exam I want to take. And I do want to be able to talk well with my grandparents.

As a bonus, I get the chance to see Noah look utterly surprised by me answering his question like the adult my age claims I am. 

“Uh, okay, we can work with that,” he says. “How about we try to converse a little at the beginning of each session, then go through some common sentences and polite terms you might need when speaking to your grandparents, and I can explain some grammar or vocabulary at the end of each session for you to learn before our next lesson?”

I nod. “Sounds good to me.”

Noah claps his hands together. “In Ordnung.” 

I know that one. It means ‘Alright’. Apparently, we have already started. I try to say something, but it comes out in a jumbled mess. Noah switches back to English and says, “If you need some time to get used to the language, feel free to answer in English right now. I will speak German, and you can ask me if you don’t understand something or how to say something.”

Relief passes through me, and I sink back into the comfiest desk chair ever. “Okay, I can do that.”

Probably.

❖ 

I can so not do this. By the end of the session–I can’t believe it’s only been one hour–my brain is a pile of scrambled mush, and I feel like I know neither English nor German. 

Noah noticed my struggles around the half-hour mark and switched back to talking English while explaining where I went wrong. And it was a lot. 

I hang my head over the back of the chair to stare at the ceiling.  “Do you think I could, like, flee the country before my grandparents visit? Or I could die, so my mom doesn’t have to be embarrassed as to why I’m missing their visit.”

“Or, and hear me out here, you don’t give up because the first session that was obviously gonna be hard turned out to be just that, and you actually did a great job despite the odds against you.”

I turn my head towards Noah, who stands up and looks down on me. I watch his hand rise and then halt before he pulls it back to his side. I hate that I like hearing his encouragement. And that I know exactly what he was going to do with his hand. 

When we were kids, he had a habit of ruffling through my shaggy curls. I used to like the gesture until it developed into an apology every time he sent me away. 

Now, I stare at his hand in a bout of longing.

I abruptly get up, not sure where that emotion came from. 

“I’m gonna head home,” I say, because Noah is staring at me, undoubtedly wondering why the heck I moved so suddenly. 

“Okay. Do you want me to drive you?”

I scoff, “I can walk a few meters in the dark, Noah.”

He is about to say something, but then his mouth closes. He nods instead.

“Thanks for today,” I say, because Mom would kill me if I didn’t.

I leave the room first, and downstairs, we meet Noah’s mother. 

“Aunt Susu,” I greet her, a name she had insisted on. 

“Taylor! It’s good to see you.”

Noah catches up to me, and her eyes go from him to me and back. “Did you have a good session?”

I nod, not only to be polite, but because all in all, it had been a good session. Noah is just like everyone says. Nice, smart, and apparently also a good teacher. I hate him.

“He can speak German pretty well. There is not much I have to do but help him dust off his skills,” Noah answers. 

I’m first surprised, then unsurprised by his insinuation that I’m much better in German than everyone assumes. Of course, nice, polite Noah would say something uplifting like this.

I awkwardly gesture towards the door, “I need to leave, but thanks for having me. And thank you for the snacks, they were delicious.”

Susu smiles, crows' feet appearing around her almond-shaped eyes. The same shape as Noah’s.

“Hear that, Noah? Your cooking skills must have improved a lot in Guatemala.”

“Easy, I had better examples to learn from.”

I gasp-snort at his answer. I was wrong. Noah does get the exasperated-mother look. Somehow, that knowledge makes me foolishly happy.