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“You have no idea what you’ve done to her, Mr. Andrews. But don’t worry, I can fill you in. I met Noa Cruz when she was eighteen, selling her paintings on the street for not even a fraction of their worth. I found her, and I saved her. And when we found out she was pregnant, we were ecstatic. Then, through no fault of her own, Anna…” Her eyes watered, and then, “She didn’t come.Wehave dealt with that tragedy. Was she wrong for not telling you? Yes. But you have always been the bad guy, Mr. Andrews, because you are the fool who left a woman who loved you more than her own life—twice.”
She left the seating area without another word, the click of her heels matching the heavy beat of my heart. When she stepped into the room I was desperate to be in, offering a last glance in my direction before shutting the door behind her, I felt that tickle of sad envy.
It was hard to hear, even harder than the items I’d seen in the box. Because Miranda had been there. Not me.
It made me angry. I hadn’t been given the chance to prove myself. But circles…round and round we went. Our mistakes had this disastrous domino effect, toppling tiles until we changed. We loved each other so much, we hated each other.
How was it that all my adoration and disdain lived inside of one being? My dreams and nightmares, wrapped in a beautiful package.
There were very few times in my life that I could say knocked me flat on my ass; but finding out that—all along—Noa was the truest deceiver of all, definitely did.
I still loved her through my silence and anger.
I yearned for her, for my match. But, while part of me called for her, another part of me stopped myself from reaching out to her.
I stood and looked in the direction of Noa’s room.
She wouldn’t let me in there. Certainly not today. But there was always tomorrow.
For now, I had something that needed to be handled.
Dexter
I wasin my senior year of college whenI’d gotten a call from Greg Sr. telling me Molly had been diagnosed with leukemia.
So, on my final winter break, I went home to visit. All through college, we’d kept in touch. And as much as I wondered if they kept in contact to have some sort of connection to their lost son, I knew our interactions soothed a deeper part of me.
The thought of losing Molly was something I couldn’t come to terms with, something I avoided thinking about until I was no longer able to. Not when she lost her hair and the little bit of roundness she’d had in her cheeks.
And I wondered if I preferred it this way: to lose her slowly, in a way I was forced to acknowledge. Instead of all at once—the way I lost Noa. In a way that pressed haunting questions and nostalgic thoughts into my head more often than not.
On my way back to Tracey’s from the hospital, I stopped at the nearest coffee shop. Fatigue weighed down my body and I didn’t know how to smile in my aunt’s face without her seeing the sadness behind it.
Hot tea had a way of coaxing the calm out and easing it into my mind.
It was while I was mulling over my warm mug that I noticed a familiar-looking woman, with red hair that’d gotten longer. She’d grown up in the time since I’d last seen her, but there she was—her shoulders slumped and the back of her hand brushing against her cheek.
Rachel—formerly known as Mouse—was sitting across the room, mulling over her own beverage. Except she was crying.
I hadn’t seen her since graduation and had barely gotten to know her in the time I’d had before college. Once I left home, I left everyone on the fringes of this life behind. So, yes, we were essentially strangers, but it felt wrong to leave her alone with her tears.
So, I got up and walked over to her.
She only noticed me once I spoke, seeming startled. Though her smile was genuine, a fresh batch of tears started to slide from her eyes.
I sat down across from her and managed to ask her one question before it all came tumbling out. “Are you okay?”
She told me about her boyfriend who’d been belatedly diagnosed with a rare type of cancer. That, by the time it was found, it was already too late. He’d died two weeks prior.
And she learned she was carrying his child.
It was terrible to think it, but it was nice to hear someone else’s tragedy; it took my mind off my own. Between Noa being gone and Molly being sick, I felt like my limbs were made of stone, like I was the heaviest person in the world. Like my spirit was being ground into dust and I was in danger of blowing away in the breeze.
Friendship with Rachel came easily after that. She was sweet and the larger her belly grew, the more hopeful I felt for a life after Noa.
When Phoebe was born, I was there.
When Rachel fretted over Phoebe not having a father, I stood in, vowing to be that and more for the baby. After all, Phoebe brought me back to life. My love for her filled a lot of the emptiness inside me.
