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“Do you mind if we sit here?” A woman’s voice brought him back to his senses.
“All yours,” he said. More than enough time had passed for Grace to be gone by now. He stood, put on his jacket, pushed his chair under the table, and left the math lab. The door thumped shut behind him, an exclamation point closing the chapter of his life that Grace had invaded.
As he walked home, her last words echoed inside his head. His ears grew hot as he examined them.
“Liar.”
He may not have been forthcoming, but he’d never actuallyliedto her. So that, at least, was not entirely applicable.
“Pathetic.”
There had been no pity in her eyes, so she must have intended the “loser” definition of the word rather than “pitiable.” Noah could deal with that. He didn’t need her approval—or anyone else’s.
It was the last dart she’d thrown that sank into his skin and festered.
“Alone.”
It took several days for that one to stop stinging, to fade to the dull ache it always was.
And then, on the last day of finals, her email arrived.
It sat in his inbox, unread, for several hours—the bright-red notification glaring at him every time he looked at his phone. His rising irritation outstripped his growing curiosity until he forced himself to swipe left and delete the email, unread. Then curiosity took over, and he brought it—and the annoying notification bubble—right back.
He didn’t want to read it, but he couldn’t just let it sit. What if there was something important in there?
Like what?he thought. There was no what-if scenario that could convince him it was necessary reading, no emergency situation that would require Grace to reach out tohim. There were plenty of people left on Earth, and Noah was smart enough to know that he would be the very last one she’d ask for help.
For anything.
And yet, shehademailed him. So why?
He had no idea, and the little red dot gnawed at his peace of mind. Once finals were over and the unfilled downtime of Christmas break took hold, it became a nagging voice inside his head—one that threatened to drive him crazy.
Just read it.
I don’t want to.
Yes you do.
No I don’t.
Then why are you still thinking about it?
Eventually, a compromise was reached. Irritation demanded action, and curiosity dictated what it would be. With nothing better to hold his attention but the echoing silence of his empty apartment, Noah sat down on his twin bed and opened Grace’s email.
Noah,
I promised I wouldn’t trouble you any further, but as a means of getting some closure for myself, I feel compelled to write the defense you wouldn’t allow me to speak.
Of course, you’re just as likely to shut me down now as you did before, but at least I will have given myself the opportunity to explain, whether you hit the trash button before you read this or not.
First, please allow me to apologize for my treatment of you on our date. My behavior cannot be excused. I was immature, self-absorbed, rude. Claire let me have it after you left, and I did my best to take her words to heart. I realized that night that it’s never okay to treat others poorly, that hurting others will only make my own hurts worse. I had always prided myself on my kindness, but that night I allowed my personal challenges to blind me and felt justified in doing so. I was wrong. I’m sorry.
In my efforts to improve, I did my best to learn from that night—to make changes but move on as if it never happened. I was too ashamed to think about it. Claire and Ryan could both see this and never brought it up again. We succeeded admirably because I really did not recognize you when we met again. In my defense, your appearance has altered, but that doesn’t excuse my initial disregard, and for that I again apologize.
As for your charge that I responded with only irritation at the “inconvenience” of a man’s death, may I first remind you that I had only spoken to Lupe Navarro once and never met her or her poor brother? I distinctly remember offering my condolences, but you cut me off before I could finish my sentence. At that point, I hastily assumed that it would be more comfortable for you to get to the business of tutoring. I was also panicking at the possibility of having to find another math tutor in a short amount of time for a class that I dreaded. Math in general stresses me out, as you know, and to have the added pressure of my graduation and employment hinging on a passing grade rendered me insensitive. I offer that as an explanation of my mistake, not justification. I know I was inconsiderate, and I’m sorry. Losing a sibling is one of life’s most painful trials. I pray your friend is able to make peace with her brother’s passing.
And then your comments about my major got my hackles up, and I said things I regret. Please forgive me for failing to curb my anger and hold my tongue. I’m trying to do better.
