Chapter 38
Luca
After his second suicide attempt, it was clear Noah needed professional help.
Inpatient admission was out of the question.
The requirements of his individual care were still too high, and physical therapy was too important to put on hold for six to twelve weeks.
But the clinic recognized the urgency, admitted Noah to the day clinic’s therapy program, and Micki changed his schedule to come in the afternoons.
I’m getting help, too. Paps set up an appointment for me with his therapist, and I’m slowly starting to understand the dynamic we slipped into after Noah’s accident, because we thought we could handle it on our own.
I was so afraid of losing Noah that I centered my whole life around him.
But Noah couldn’t see it that way, he only noticed that everyone was making allowances for him and that it was his fault that no one was living their own lives anymore, especially me.
Instead of simply talking to each other, figuring out what each of us wanted and how we could achieve it together, we both made decisions for the other that weren’t ours to make.
Tonight, Noah and I are on our first real date since the accident.
We went grocery shopping in Strasbourg and are now on our way to Noah’s apartment.
Moving back here is out of the question—we both agreed on that—but for a quiet night together and a little escape from the hustle and bustle of my family, it’s perfect.
Noah struggles with the many steps up to the third floor, but I have to trust him handling it. And I have to let him ask for help when he needs it, I can’t force it on him just because I think he can’t do it.
“Damn, I didn’t remember the stairs being this steep.”
“Do you want to take a break?”
He looks at me, confused. “Where exactly? On the Dubois family’s shoe bench?”
A smile spreads across my face. Noah has his edge back, his sarcasm, and my heart beats a little faster in my chest. I sit down on the top step and pull him down with me until he’s sitting one step lower, between my legs.
“Ah, that was dangerous. If I’d broken my neck because of you, I would’ve killed you. Don’t look at me like that, I would’ve found a way.” Of course he would have.
Without asking, Noah leans back and falls into my arms. “Oh, that was a mistake.”
Laughing, he snuggles up to me, fuck, how I’ve missed that sound. So much has changed in the last four weeks. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he relaxes, nestling against me. “If you keep this up, I’ll never get up from here again. You realize that, right?”
“But I’m hungry.”
“You should’ve thought of that beforehand.” Grinning, Noah closes his eyes. I could look at him forever.
Noah eventually got up, albeit reluctantly, and now, after so many months, we’re back sitting here at this table again.
We’re having shrimp, marinated in a vinaigrette with herbs and garlic with baguette and baked potatoes.
The small ones with the red skin, the kind that are hard to find in Germany but are in every supermarket in Strasbourg. It’s Papa’s recipe, and Noah loves it.
“Okay, let’s get started before we’re too stuffed to think straight.
” We have a joint homework assignment from our therapists, and I have to admit, I’m not quite as diligent about these assignments, but Noah is fully on board—he wants to do this.
Probably because he’s already feeling better after such a short time.
“Have you thought about your goals?” I ask and Noah nods with his mouth full. “Then go ahead.”
The assignment was to formulate short-term, medium-term, and long-term goals for our lives and then discuss how to integrate these goals into our relationship. I’m nervous and hope we aren’t too far apart.
“Okay, but you can’t laugh. It’s probably totally ridiculous. Micki says I could be ready in four weeks though. I’d love to hike to the Hohe Horn with you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Like I said, it’s probably silly…”
“No, it’s not, I’m excited. Let’s do it!” Noah looks at me uncertainly, but my enthusiasm carries him away into a cautious smile. I’m thrilled.
“I want to take you out to dinner. Not burgers or anything like that, I want to take you out somewhere really fancy.”
Noah’s eyes light up. “Does that mean you’ll wear something other than a band shirt? Like a dress shirt?”
“You like me in band shirts.”
“No.” He shakes his head firmly, and I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“No?”
“Definitely not. I love you no matter what you wear.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“I love you too, mon Papillon.” My eyes fill with tears. Fuck, I’m so glad we get to sit here together, that he’s doing so well.
In the medium term, we both want to finish our degrees, and we’re already in talks with the university about how and when we can best get back on track.
“What do you want to do once we graduate? What kind of work do you want to do?” It’s a fair question as we’ve never talked about that.
“I have a dream.” A very detailed one, actually, I’ve just never told anyone about it.
“I’ve always wanted to open a kind of children’s home.
A place for kids like I used to be. For kids who don’t have a family to be with and for whom foster care doesn’t work, for whatever reason.
A facility that doesn’t feel like an institution, but like a home. ”
“Wow, that’s a beautiful idea. I like that. Do you need a partner?”
“I know, that’s completely…” I’m about to start justifying myself when I realize what he said. “What did you say?” I’d better ask again before I make a complete fool of myself.
“That’s a wonderful idea, and I understand why it’s important to you. I’d love to do this with you if you’d like. We’ll need to gain a little more work experience first, but then I’m in.”
We can work together, the project assignment proved that. It would be amazing if my dream became ours. “I couldn’t imagine a better partner, mon Papillon.”
Ninety centimeters of tabletop is clearly too much distance. Without questioning my idea, I stand up, walk around the table, pull Noah’s chair back, and straddle his lap. Yes, I weigh sixty pounds more than my boyfriend, but he can handle it, and if not, he has a mouth to tell me so.
Without any complaints he wraps his arms around my waist and my lips find his as I ask him. “Is getting married anywhere in your plans…”
“No.”
Okay, no big deal. The most important thing is that he’s with me.