Finally, he left. I stared at my ceiling, feeling the loss of him already.
Later that evening, I got back from a long, invigorating walk on the beach. I heard music coming from Noah’s bedroom and climbed the stairs. My cheeks flushed with excitement to see him.
I knocked on his door and stepped inside. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, as music blared all around. “The Killing Moon” played at top volume, so loud he hadn’t heard me come in.
Noah was shirtless. I would’ve thought he was sleeping, but no one could sleep through music this loud. Then, as I stepped closer, I saw a single tear roll down his cheek. My breath caught. He was crying.
My throat thickened to know he was upset, my body moving on autopilot as I climbed into bed next to him. He opened his eyes, surprised to see me there. I didn’t say a word, simply wrapped my arms around him tight and held on. I sensed whatever was causing him to suffer had happened long before I knew him. Whatever turmoil was inside his head, I wished to take it from him. Erase it all until he felt no more pain, and all that was in his heart was the deep, unexplainable, ardent love I had for him.
I wanted to tell him that, to express the complicated mess of emotions inside me, but I was scared. I knew that Noah liked me, but I wasn’t sure if he loved me.
The song ended, and we lay in silence for several minutes before Noah finally spoke. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”
“All the time,” I answered without missing a beat. I wished I was someone who didn’t have an ill-fated curse hanging over her head. That way my life would be so much simpler.
“I wonder what it would be like to be born from love. To be one of God’s creatures instead of one of his mistakes.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” I whispered.
“I don’t,” he said, then corrected, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to believe in a God who could allow someone like me to exist.”
Emotion caught in my throat, a heavy lump. Didn’t he know how much it meant to me that he existed? I suspected he felt this way because of what happened with his father. It was obviously an accident, but he’d been made to believe he was a murderer, that he’d taken a life. I brought my hand up to stroke his hair away from his forehead. “You lost your faith, but you can find it again. I’ll help you,” I told him. “And you’re not a mistake. You could never be a mistake because you’re mine. We were always meant to find each other.”
His eyes, so full of sorrow, showed the tiniest flicker of hope. “I’m yours?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He buried his face in my neck, arms wrapping around me, causing my heart to break just a little as he whispered into my skin, “I’m yours.”
***
For the next three weeks, Noah and I found each other in our small corners of the house. We gave ourselves over to desire, and I didn’t think about what would happen next. Instead I lived entirely in the moment.
The idea of hopping on the back of his bike and riding away with him was tempting, but then my dad’s curse would surely follow. My life wasn’t my own, and my decisions were directed by an invisible and malevolent power far beyond my comprehension. I refused to believe God was behind the curse. No, I believed an evil force had intercepted my father’s prayers, preying on his desperation and need and making a deal that would haunt him for all his days.
Now that same force haunted me.
So, I would take what little happiness I could, and when my life was absent of human touch and affection, I would find contentment in the spiritual.
I made it through my exams. All my studying throughout the year paid off, even though half the time I was in a daze over Noah. I was completely lost in him. I sat my final exam the day before Victor’s remembrance ceremony. It came far too soon, and I remembered Noah telling me he was leaving the day after.
I wasn’t ready to let him go. I didn’t think I ever would be, and that conflict kept me awake at night.
On the day of the ceremony, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, studying my reflection. I wore one of the dresses Noah bought me on my birthday. It was long and pale, made of chiffon over a silky material. The light fabric highlighted my dark eyes. I’d never noticed quite how haunted they were; wide and open, but at the same time cynical and tired.