Taylor

That night, I can’t fall asleep. Noah’s words circle in my head like a carousel. Every time I close my eyes, his handsome features in the dim light of the park lanterns appear before me. I turn in my bed, unsure where to put all the feelings running through my body as if it were marathon day.

You were like that sun that kept away the rainy days.

If it had been any other situation, I might have scoffed at the almost poetic words. But there, cuddled under a blanket, sharing warmth and memories, it felt right. And almost unbearingly intimate. I pull at my hair and try to get rid of an itch that can’t seem to be soothed. 

“I give up,” I finally say out loud, sit up, throw back the blanket, and leave my room to get a glass of water. Maybe that will help me cool down.

It doesn’t.

A glance at the oven clock tells me it’s 5 am. I groan and rub my face as I stare at the granite countertop of our kitchen, lost, tired, and yet loaded with restless energy. Since it’s Sunday, my parents won’t be up for another few hours, and I won’t have anyone to distract me. So, I feel compelled to head to our garage and get my bike out. I haven’t used it during winter, but today, I really need to move, the cold be damned.

In a matter of minutes, I’m out on the dark open roads, only the occasional early riser driving by in their cars. I concentrate my eyes on the light cone in front of me while I pedal. I should have replaced the front lamp’s batteries ages ago. The light flickers over the pavement sprinkled with wet leaves. Misty breath escapes my mouth while I huff my way up the hill towards my favorite lookout spot.

When I arrive with chattering teeth, I wonder what the hell I’m even doing. I look down on the city lights. The lights of cars snake along the roads like one big Pac-Man maze. I sniff and regret not bringing my usual backpack. There is nothing to drink or eat, not even a tissue to blow my runny nose. I didn’t even bring my phone with me, which is the peak of the stupidity that has me driving up this hill in the early morning hours in the middle of winter.

With a heavy sigh, I lean against the railing to gaze down on the sleepy city and finally allow all the thoughts running in my head to stop, so I can take a proper look at them. 

Noah’s memories are far clearer than my own. When he told me about his struggles, it made sense, but only in retrospect. I still barely remember that time. I have the gnawing suspicion that I never paid much heed to Noah’s situation. I was the one who accused him of pushing me away, but what about my own behaviour back then? Wasn’t I also dismissive of Noah’s mourning? Noah doesn’t seem to think so, but I still can’t comprehend how a few scribbles and childish words were enough for him.

I groan and tuck my head into my crossed arms. A curse escapes my lips. It’s really too cold up here for this kind of contemplation. 

I was thankful for Noah’s admissions and apology, so it felt wrong to point out a thought I can’t shake since last night. I’m really glad he opened up to me, but it still doesn’t explain his behaviour when I asked about the photos a few days ago. It seems unlikely that those were connected to his father, right? Or maybe it was just a consequence of his habit of keeping things too close to his chest? Then would he be open about it now? I’m not sure I want to risk asking him again when this new peace between us is still fragile.

I raise my head and take a deep breath. I regret it immediately when the sharp, cold winter air invades my lungs. 

“Yeah, this was a bad idea,” I say out loud and pick myself up from the railing. I pat it and turn my back to the city view. When I get on my bike, I keep from glancing back, as if this way I can also leave behind that one nagging, hard-to-ignor feeling I’m really not ready to face.

❖

When Dad enters the kitchen, he jumps at my sight.

“Tay! What are you doing here?”

I look up at him. Even after the impromptu bike tour and a long, hot shower, there was too much time left in the morning. So I organized all the fundraiser notes Caya and I had taken so far, while drinking a very hot cup of tea to get rid of the winter chill. Who am I kidding? I’ll probably get sick anyway.

I eye my Dad, who is still waiting for an answer. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this in the past 18 years, but I live here.”

Dad pulls a sticky note off my cheek. 

“Ah, I did think there was some weird stench.”

“Screw you.”

He pats my shoulder. “Don’t let your mother hear that.”

“I learned it from her.”

He laughs and brews a pot of coffee, while eyeing the lists and notes spread out before me. 

“What are you working on?”

“The fundraiser event.”

“Ah, right. Your mother mentioned you should apply. Did you get the spot?”

“Just about.”

Silence ensues while Dad shuffles around, making breakfast, getting the newspapers, and pouring coffee. When he finally sits at the table, he eyes me over his steaming cup. 

“You okay?”

My hesitation seems answer enough. Dad pushes the newspapers aside and looks at me. I fiddle with one of the sticky notes. 

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Is it the fundraiser? Is it too stressful for you? I know Rosy can be pushy about stuff like this.”

“No. It’s not that, it’s …”
Dad waits patiently until I’ve formed my thoughts into words. 

“I spent a lot of time with Noah yesterday, and a few things from our childhood came up.”

Dad raises an eyebrow to encourage me to continue. I take a deep breath.

“I don’t know. We somehow ended up talking about his dad and …”

I scrunch up my face, brows furrowed deeply. 

Dad sighs. “It was a horrible tragedy.”

I raise my head and see him staring at his coffee. 

“I don’t remember it that well,” I confess. “And it made me think that I really didn’t seem to care all that much about Noah’s circumstances as a kid. I feel bad because of it.”

Dad shakes his head. “No, that’s not true.”

I hang onto his words like a drowning man as he continues, “Markus' death was sudden and a shock to us, even more so for Susu and her kids.”

He rubs a hand over his face, and with a jolt, I realise that back then, he had also lost a close friend.

“Your mom and I stepped in to help, of course, because Susu was overwhelmed with grief and the mountain of work that came with the loss of her husband. And I’m not talking about her kids. These days, death is accompanied by an amount of paperwork that could fill a whole coffin. Not to mention the funeral, there are contracts, insurances, bank accounts, inheritance, countless issues to take care of while your whole body, mind, and soul are shut down, and you only want to curl up in a dark room until the world stops turning.

"And that’s exactly what Noah did. He hid himself away. Olly reacted differently to Markus’ death. She cried and cried and clung to anyone who would hold her together. It was, in a sense, a healthy way to grieve. But Noah bottled everything up. We were pretty worried about him, so Rosy pushed Susu into finding a therapist for both children.”

I frown because this information doesn’t add up with my knowledge. “It was Mom who made them go to therapy, not Aunt Susu?”

Dad nods. “Susu has been brought up with different values. A culture where you don’t show weakness and where you don’t air out your problems in public. It was hard for her to accept our help at all, and she was convinced she could deal with two grieving children on top of her own loss. But in truth, it was Noah who supported her, all the while also taking care of Olly.”

Dad rotates the cup of coffee in his hands, lost in his memories. “It took some time to convince Susu to let go of the notion that she would have to deal with everything herself. And during those months, before the therapy started, Rosy and I often picked all of you up from school, so the siblings could eat at our house, do homework, and have an ounce of normalcy.”

I scratch my head. “I don’t remember much of that.”

Dad clears his throat. “Well, we did try to keep most of the bad away from you. It was partly because we are your parents and just that protective of you, and partly because you were the only ray of happiness in a very dark time for all of us.”

I scoff. “What?”

The smile Dad gives me is full of pride. “You might not realise it, Taylor, but you are a very sunny and warm person. You always have been. And it was exactly that trait that made you the perfect company for Noah. Every time he was here, you managed to elicit him out of his shell. Heck, I’m pretty sure I saw him smile a few times. It was something none of us adults could accomplish. You might not have fully comprehended what was going on, but you have always been full of empathy for others.”

I throw him a disbelieving look, and Dad returns it with a challenging quirk of his brow. “It’s true. The day after Markus’ death, you came to me in the evening and asked whether Olly and Noah would be able to see their dad again so they could be happy. The thought that they might be sad forever made you cry your heart out.”

I blush and grumble in embarrassment. My dad reaches over and pats my hand. 

“You absolutely understood that Noah and Olly needed help during that time. Trust me on this, Tay, you cared. In your own special and much-needed way.”

Perhaps understanding that I need a moment to myself, Dad looks at his wrist watch. “Time to wake up your mother. She should be up by now.” He knocks on the table and gets up to leave. 

“Dad?”

“Hm?” He turns around.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

There is pain in his smile as he comes around the table to hug me. When he releases me, his eyes are suspiciously shiny. “Thanks, buddy.”

He hastily shuffles out of the kitchen with a loud harrumph and leaves me with my thoughts. I get up and pour myself a cup of coffee. The recent conversations have put a lot of my own memories into perspective. I’m relieved that Dad’s words resonate with Noah’s. That I hadn’t been uncaring or mean.

And maybe, because my heart feels much lighter, it beats strongly and frantically. Again, Noah’s face appears in my mind. This time it’s not Noah under dim park lights. It’s Noah in the university’s bathroom, centimeters from my face, his dark gaze fixed on me.

I startle so hard, I knock over the cup I just poured. “Crap.” I reach for a towel and hastily dab away the coffee soaking my carefully crafted notes. I bite my lips and squeeze my eyes shut. “Get it together.”