Noah and Me

by Beckie Stevenson

  “I understand the point you’re trying to make,” he says. “I’m just saying that I think you were very lucky to run into a guy like Noah.” Dr Georgio looks down at his watch and sighs. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.”

  I start to gather my things together.

  “This is really good though, Ariel,” he tells me. “You need to keep going.”

  “I will,” I promise. I get up out of my seat and sense that he’s watching me. “I enjoyed today,” I confess. I notice his eyebrows quirk in surprise and feel a small smile play across my lips. “Have a nice Christmas, Dr. Georgio.”

  He beams at me as I step around the seat. “Be good,” he calls.

  “Always am these days,” I reply.

  I stand in the meeting room at work with all of the other midwives and stare at the board. Twelve babies were delivered today and they were all straightforward deliveries resulting in healthy babies. Let’s hope tonight is a quiet night.

  “Ariel,” says my boss, Leslie. “You’re in room five right now. Fiona has just delivered. Baby’s temp is a little cool so they’re having skin-to-skin. No checks have been done, so can you go and relieve Babs?”

  I nod and walk down the corridor. After I knock on the door, I wait until Babs tells me that it’s all clear.

  “Hello,” I say, smiling at Fiona. I walk over to her and peep down at her tiny baby. “What did we have?” I ask.

  She smiles at me. “It’s a little boy,” she beams. “I’m going to name him Charlie, after his daddy.”

  “That’s lovely, and he’s absolutely beautiful. Congratulations,” I say, tucking the baby closer against her breast. “He’s a little cold so we need to make sure you’re warming him up. Has he fed yet?”

  “He’s wriggling towards my nipple,” she says.

  I nod my head at Babs, letting her know that I can take it from here. Babs is the queen of note-taking, so I know I’ll be able to pick up where she left off and carry right on. She picks up a few things, says goodbye to Fiona and then she leaves. I walk over to the table and flick through some of her notes. Normal vaginal delivery. No tearing and no episiotomy. This one should be easy enough.

  I sit on the side of Fiona’s bed and pull her nightie down. I reposition Charlie in her arms and show her how to hold his head so the nipple touches the roof of his mouth. “This is the best way,” I tell her. “We need your baby to open his mouth really wide, so try tickling his bottom lip with your nipple until he opens up.” Baby Charlie immediately opens his mouth. “Once his mouth is open, pull him onto you, instead of you shoving your nipple into him. This isn’t a bottle.” I put my hand gently on the back of Charlie’s head and guide him towards her breast. “You’ll be less likely to experience pain if you make sure your nipple is at the top of his mouth. He needs to get the entire nipple and most of the areola into his mouth. The rugby ball position is quite good too, but I’ll show you that one later.” We both look down and watch Charlie as he starts to suckle. “Isn’t it amazing how they know how to do that?”

  She nods, but she doesn’t look as happy as she did a minute ago.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  “I just miss his daddy,” she says with a sigh.

  I look around the room, but I don’t see any sign that a man has been here. “Where is he?”

  “He died,” she says. “Five months ago.”

  I feel my mouth drop open and immediately cover it with hand. I pull her into me, careful not to squish Charlie, and hug her. “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  She starts to sob quietly at first and then she really starts to cry. Eventually, she’s shuddering so much that poor Charlie has to stop feeding. I pull away and gesture to her to pass him over. Because his temperature is so low, he needs to maintain close body contact so I pull my top off, even though I know I’m not supposed to, and let him snuggle against my skin.

  “Won’t he try and feed from you?”

  I sit down on the chair next to her bed and pull some blankets over the top of him. “There isn’t any milk in my breasts,” I tell her. “He won’t be able to smell it, and seeing as though he just fed, he’ll probably just sleep.”

  She wipes her nose and sniffs. “I’d really like a shower,” she says.

  “You can’t shower,” I tell her, “but you can have a nice warm bath. Why don’t you try and get some sleep? I’ll watch Charlie for you.”

  She leans back and wriggles down under the covers. “It was a heart attack,” she whispers. “He was only forty.”

  “Life is so cruel sometimes,” I say, then nod towards Charlie, “but it is also the most beautiful thing in the world. It will be harder for you, I’m sure, but you’ll have enough love in your heart for the both of you.”

  She nods as fresh tears fall from her eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Ariel,” I say. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself to you when I first came in.”

  “That’s okay,” she says. “You were too busy staring at Charlie. I can forgive you for that.”

  I smile sadly at her.

  “You look young,” she says, “but you speak wise words.”

  I nod. “Life has been cruel to me too. You have to learn fast.”

  “Yes,” she agrees, “you certainly do.”

  Chapter 36

  NOW

  Saturday 22nd December

  My apartment is only a twenty-minute walk from work, but I’ve driven today to save those precious few minutes. It was my last shift before Christmas, which means I’ve had to do all the Christmas wishes and the stupid bloody Secret Santa present-swapping. I’m later than I wanted to be.

  I zoom down the road, careful not to brake too hard because of the potential black ice, and turn into the underground car park. My tyres screech as I bring the car to a stop in my parking space and jump out. I sprint towards the lift and hit the button that takes me to the very top of our building.

  I haven’t seen Noah since Monday night because we’ve both either been working or sleeping, but I have to see him today. It’s just gone half-past seven in the morning and I’m absolutely knackered. The only thing that I want to do is to go straight to bed and sleep, but I can’t. Not today.

  When the lift pings, I run to his door and bang on it as hard as I can. I know he’s home because I rang up to his ward and they said that he’d left at six this morning. He doesn’t answer, so I bang some more. Shit. I can’t have missed him already. Maybe he’s in the shower. I run back down to my apartment and head towards the bathroom. I’ll knock again once I’m cleaned and dressed.

  After my shower, I jab at the button on the front of the radio while I’m getting ready and listen to the weather forecast. It’s not good, but I don’t care. I pull on a pair of thermal black leggings, some thick socks, a tight vest top and a long, pale pink jumper that goes over the top of it. I quickly blow-dry my hair, leaving it loose over my shoulders and rub some concealer underneath my eyes to try and hide my dark circles. After I brush on some foundation, I run the mascara wand through my long lashes and pat some blush onto my cheeks. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, noticing how alive I look, and grab my snow coat. Then I pull on my walking boots and grab my hat and gloves before heading back out.

  I take the stairs two at a time and knock on his door. There’s no answer. I knock for another ten minutes before slumping to the floor in defeat. Shit, I’ve missed him.

  I take a deep breath and jump to my feet. I race down the stairs and don’t stop until I’m in my Mini Cooper. I turn the key in the ignition and listen to the sound of the exhaust as I pump the accelerator and reverse out of my spot.

  I’ve almost fallen asleep at least eight times since I got into my car. Both of my windows are all the way down and the radio is blasting out. I’m freezing, but I know I can’t let myself warm up. If I start to warm, then I’ll definitely fall asleep.

  I pull up at the kerb near the front of the church and stare at the eight-foot-tall black iron gates
. I can’t see Noah’s car anywhere so I’m not sure if he’s here or not. I get out and walk to the back of my car and open the boot. I stopped at a florist on the way here and bought a dozen white roses. I pull them out, along with my coat and hat, and lock the car behind me as I head into the graveyard. It’s freezing cold, misty and spookily quiet.

  I glance over towards Noah’s family’s stone but he’s not there. Where is he? I was sure I’d find him here. I follow the path around the church until I’m standing in front of my family’s gravestone. He’s been here. The stone is freshly wiped and he’s placed a Christmas wreath at the foot of it. I drop to my knees and trace their names with my finger.

  “It’s nearly Christmas,” I whisper. “I’m trying to change.” I don’t know why I feel the need to tell them this. I think a part of me has always regretted my decisions and wondered what my parents would think of my behaviour. I feel a hot tear seep from the corner of my eye and let it roll down my cheek. “I love you,” I tell them. “Sleep tight.” I kiss my fingers and touch it to their stone. “Sweet dreams, Lily.” I place five of the roses onto the grave and blow them one last kiss. I push myself to standing and wipe the frost from my knees. I’m so tired I think I’m going to have to sleep in my car. I’d be a danger to other people if I tried to drive.

  I decide to loop around the church instead of just turning around and going back down the path, but then I spot Noah and freeze. He’s standing in front of his family stone with his head bowed. It’s only a small plot because he buried their ashes instead of their bodies. I creep slowly towards him and lean down without speaking to him. I place six roses onto the stone and hear him sniff. “The last rose is for your Grandad,” I tell him. I stand up and slip my warm hand into his cold palm. He weaves his fingers through mine and squeezes tight. After a few minutes, he pulls his hand free and puts his arm around me, pulling me to his side. He kisses the top of my head and sighs into my hair.

  I look up at him and notice how puffy his eyes look. “You alright?” I whisper.

  He turns to face me and looks into my eyes as he nods. “Yes, I am, thank you. But you look tired.”

  I smile sleepily at him. “So do you.”

  He nods. “I am.”

  “When did you last sleep?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I didn’t sleep that well yesterday.”

  “Nor me,” I say. “It was bin day and I think I heard them empty the entire street.”

  “Let’s go and get some rest,” he says, taking my hand again, “before I fall asleep standing up.”

  I let him lead me through the graveyard. We pass his Grandad’s grave, but we only stop long enough for him to take the rose from my hand, kiss my cheek and drop it onto the stone.

  “Where is your car?” I ask as we walk underneath the gated archway.

  “I always walk here,” he says. “It clears my head.”

  “You walk here from your house?” I aim my key fob at my car and press the button.

  He pulls the passenger door open and folds himself inside. I smile at how squashed he looks. My legs feel sluggish and achy as I get into the car.

  “I don’t always walk here when I come. Only on this day,” he tells me.

  I put the key into the ignition and pull away. We don’t speak the five minutes it takes me to get to his house. I stop outside the gates and watch as he wriggles the keypad from out of his pocket. He punches in a code and then the gates open wide. I drive down the long driveway until I get to the turning circle.

  “It really is beautiful,” I say, looking up at the house.

  “I had it valued the other day,” he says, following my eyes as I look up to the vertical window that hangs above the double doors.

  “And?” I ask.

  “Just over one and a half million,” he says. “And it’s hardly got any land.”

  One and a half million for a converted farmhouse? Jesus. I get out of the car and walk around the side of the house until I’m in his landscaped garden that plunges down onto one of the many rolling hills. I think it’s the view that bumps up the price, not his land. “It’s an incredible house,” I tell him as he comes to stand next to me. “You should be proud of what you’ve achieved.”

  “Grandad wouldn’t like it,” he says with a half-smile on his face. “Too much white and chrome and straight lines for his liking.”

  I smile and wonder what my parents would think if I had done this to our house. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m moving in next year,” he says. “Well, in the new year, so I guess it’s in a few weeks really.”

  “You’re going to commute to work every day?”

  He nods and tugs on my elbow until I follow him past the outdoor rattan furniture and under the awning. “It’s only a forty-minute drive, so long as I don’t get stuck behind a tractor.”

  He unlocks one of the triple-glazed doors and slides it open. He steps in and takes his boots off. I follow his lead and then we make our way into the kitchen, where he starts to warm some milk up on the hob. “This will help you sleep,” he says. “I know you don’t sleep straight through.”

  “How do you—?”

  “The wise doctor,” he interrupts.

  “Oh.”

  He starts to stir the milk with a wooden spoon and sighs. “I’ve read what you’ve written so far.”

  Already? How has he had the time? I feel my skin go clammy as I wait for his verdict. “What did you think?” I ask.

  He nods. “I thought it was very good,” he says. “It sounds like an actual story and not our real lives at all.”

  I smile. “I hope you don’t mind what I wrote about you.”

  “Not at all. It was all very complimentary. Well, apart from the bit where I met you at my party again.” He unwraps his scarf from his neck and throws it onto the table. “I feel like I should apologise,” he says.

  “Don’t,” I say. “You were dealing with emotions that had just been rammed down your throat and you didn’t know the full story, so please don’t apologise.”

  “Can I read the rest?” he asks.

  I nod. “Sure.”

  “I especially liked the bit where you said I had a big knob,” he says, smirking at me. He pours the milk into two mugs and hands me one.

  I take it from him and smile back at him. “Yeah, I thought you might.”

  He grins and nods towards the stairs. “Shall we?”

  “Please,” I say, yawning. “I can’t remember ever being this tired.”

  “It’s nearly lunchtime,” he says, “no wonder we’re knackered.”

  I follow him up the curved stairs and down the hallway until we get to the bedrooms. “The heating has only just been switched on,” he says.

  I feel myself frowning at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’ll be cold in bed,” he says.

  Oh. I want to tell him that he could always snuggle up to me, but I don’t think we’re quite there yet. “That’s okay. I can leave my socks on or something.”

  “That’s really sexy,” he says. “You should definitely do that.”

  I laugh and push him with my arm. “Which room am I going in then?”

  “You take my room,” he says. “The bed is comfier and I put the thicker duvet on it this morning, so you should be warm enough.”

  “See you in a few hours,” I say, opening his door. The smell of strawberries and cream is still here. I can’t believe he hasn’t changed his washing powder in all these years. He does have all new furniture, a bigger bed and lots of wall art though. He’s moved the bed from where it was before and it now dominates the wall to the right as I walk into the room, which looks nothing like it did before.

  I notice a button on the wall similar to the one that was in the guest bedroom and press it. The room plunges into complete darkness. I really need to get myself one of those windows, I think. I drain the last of my milk, strip down to just my knickers and climb under the covers. The smell
is amazing and I can’t stop myself from thinking back to the first time I smelt it as I start to drift into a gentle sleep.

  Something is touching me. I can’t have been asleep long because I’m still cold and I’m still on my side. Usually when I fall into a deeper sleep, I always turn onto my front. I don’t want to open my eyes, but I force them open and turn onto my back, blinking against the faint light that slithers in through the gap in the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quivering. “I didn’t think you’d be asleep already.”

  Noah? What’s he doing in here? Does he want his room back? I clear my throat and rub at my eyes. I sit up and pull the covers up with me until they’re tucked under my chin. “It’s okay. Is everything alright?” My voice is thick with sleep and exhaustion.

  I hear him suck in a deep breath. When I look at him again, I notice that he isn’t wearing anything except his black boxers. I have to look away. “I just wanted to see you,” he says, and I hear his voice break.

  Without really thinking about what I’m doing or how little clothes we’ve got on, I pull the covers aside and snuggle down, gesturing for him to join me. He rubs his face and I see the profile of his head as he turns to look back at the door. He hesitates, but it’s only for a split second. Then he pushes the door closed so we’re virtually blind again and slides in beside me.

  I lie on my back, staring into nothingness. What does he want me to do? I know what I want to do. I want to turn around and hold him, but we don’t have any clothes on and we’re both tired.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” he says.

  I do. I know why he’s here. It’s because of me. He loves me. He wants to be with me, but he just doesn’t know if he can trust me. I understand that. I want to convince him that he could trust me with his life. “Do you remember Christmas Eve seven years ago, Noah?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Of course I do. I remember everything about it.”