When I couldn’t take the quiet any longer, I finally answered his previous question. “If you really must know, Samson and Delilah is my favourite Bible story.”
There was a spark of interest behind his eyes. “Tell me why.”
“It’s a warning to follow your head and not your heart.” If my dad had done that, then maybe his life wouldn’t have ended up quite so tragic. Then again, I also wouldn’t exist so …
“I think Samson was following something else,” Noah commented, cutting off my train of thought. His hand was spread flat out on my bed sheet now, and I was oddly entranced by it. He had nice hands. They looked strong.
“Fine. It’s a lesson to follow your head and not your…desires,” I said, trying to shake myself out of whatever that was. I suddenly felt way too hot.
Noah leaned a little bit closer. “Because if you follow your desires some devious woman will cut off your hair, the source of all your strength, then sell you out to the Philistines?”
I eyed him now, surprised he knew the details. “You’ve read the Bible, too?” I asked, because I knew people who went to church every Sunday who’d barely read a page of it. Attending mass was more of a routine to them than anything else.
“I’ve read all the main ones,” he replied, and I blinked.
I was taken aback by his admission. Noah had read holy texts from all the main religions? “Seriously?”
“How else do you think I came to the informed decision to believe in none of them?”
“You’re telling me that out of all those books you found nothing worth believing in?”
“On the contrary, I found plenty. But I also found plenty not to believe in,” he stated, matter of fact.
“Well,” I said. “I’d rather believe in something than nothing.”
“But wouldn’t you also rather make an informed decision? How can you be so sure of what you believe, if what you believe is the only thing you’ve ever known?”
Now I frowned, a hollowness in my chest. “I…I don’t know.”
Noah stood from the bed and walked to the door. “You should think about it. Blindly following is a fool’s game.”
He left, and I stared at the wall. I said my prayers every morning and every night. Went to church every Sunday. It was a routine Dad instilled in me from a young age. But there were billions of people out there who said different prayers, who believed in different Gods. What if they were right, and I was wrong? Like Noah said, I’d never done a comparison. I’d simply accepted the beliefs my father taught me.
I sat up and finally got dressed. If nothing else, my conversation with Noah had broken me from my depression. When Vee called out for me again, I shuddered at the thought of whatever chore she wanted me to complete, and instead I silently snuck out of the house to walk along the beach where a cold drizzle coated my forehead and cheeks. The dark clouds overhead didn’t do much to cheer my low spirits. Maybe one day I’d live in a place where it was sunny all the time. I rarely felt sad when the sun greeted me instead of the usual overcast, grey Irish sky.
I walked without any destination in mind but found myself half an hour later on Aoife’s doorstep. She and her mam, Siobhan, lived in a flat in town. I knocked on their door and heard footsteps coming down the stairs a moment later.
“Estella! What a pleasant surprise,” Siobhan greeted when she opened door. “Come in out of that drizzle. Janey Mac, it’s a miserable day.”
I stepped inside, shrugging out of my coat and following her up to their flat. Aoife sat in their living room working on some sketches. Art was her favourite subject, and she was really good at it, too. She’d even drawn a portrait of me once. I kept it along with all my treasured possessions in a box under my bed. I wasn’t comfortable enough to have all my things out and on display. Vee was the type of person to use those things against you.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” she said, pushing her sketchbook aside.
“I wasn’t. I needed to get out of the house,” I replied, dropping down next to her.
“Vee been up to her old tricks?”
I exhaled. “She was calling for me, so I just left. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can take living with her.”
“It’s just a few more months, Stells. You can do it. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I don’t feel very strong sometimes.”
“Well, you are,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my arm.
My gaze flicked to hers. “You think?”
“Of course. You lost your dad two years ago and have been living with the world’s worst stepmother ever since. You’re strong, you just don’t realise it.”