It Had to Be Him

Four Noah

four

Noah

Twenty Years Ago

Hey. Hey,” Noah whispered. “Ramin.”

To his left, Ramin shook himself and looked around, like he didn’t know where the sound had come from.

“Ramin?”

Ramin finally looked at Noah. Then he blinked, slowly, like he was confused. Ramin was a chubby guy, pretty quiet, but smart. Black hair, ruddy beige skin, a little bit of acne, but who didn’t have that? Noah had popped a gnarly pimple on his chin that morning.

“Did you do the extra credit question?”

Noah didn’t usually obsess about quizzes, but he’d actually been managing a solid B all semester (for once) and didn’t want his grade to slip.

“Uh.” Ramin’s voice was clear and bright, though he spoke softly. “Yeah?”

“What’d you get?”

Ramin blinked again. “Zero?”

Noah sighed with relief. “Okay. Me too.” He tried to play it cool, but he really wanted that B. A guy like Ramin who got A’s in everything could never understand that. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Ramin hunched in on himself again. It made Noah feel weird. No, not weird. Bad? Sad? Definitely something unhappy. He didn’t want Ramin to hunch in on himself, though he couldn’t say why. Ramin just seemed like the kind of guy that shouldn’t have to hide.

The bell rang, and the rest of the class started shuffling out. One guy cuffed Ramin’s shoulder with his backpack. Another muttered something that sounded alarmingly like “Osama Bin Ramen” under his breath.

Okay, maybe Ramin had a good reason for hiding.

Noah couldn’t imagine what it was like, being…

Persian? Now that Noah thought about it, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he knew.

Regardless, ever since 9/11, people had been saying things about Ramin, or some of the other Middle Eastern students.

Like they had anything to do with it. As if they weren’t just trying to get through high school like everyone else.

Something angry and fierce and protective (and maybe a little bit scary) bloomed in Noah’s chest and he stood, nearly knocking his desk over.

“What did you just say?”

Ramin hunched inward even more, which just made Noah madder. Ramin hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t deserve that.

“Nothing,” the guy said. Aaron something, that was his name. Noah didn’t like him much. He tried not to hate anyone, but…

“What’s your problem?” Aaron the jerk asked, but he brushed past Noah and out the door before Noah could articulate exactly what his problem was. Namely, the offensive nickname.

As the room emptied, Ramin relaxed a bit. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly.

“Sure I did.”

“Why?”

Noah shrugged. Why did he? Because it was right. Because Ramin didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know how to explain that, though, so he said, “Because I don’t like bullies.”

In the hall, a trio of his girlfriend Stacy’s friends walked by the open classroom door. They made brief eye contact with him, giggled, and started whispering to each other. Noah’s ears burned.

He didn’t like bullies, and he didn’t like gossip, either.

Ramin didn’t seem to care about that kind of stuff, though. Ramin might’ve been the only person in the whole school who hadn’t heard the rumors. And Noah liked that about him.

“Well,” Ramin said. “Thanks.”

Ramin smiled at him then, a real smile, one Noah didn’t think he’d ever seen before. He definitely would’ve noticed his dimples if he had. Not a lot of guys had dimples in their cheeks, just in their chins, like Noah did.

And not many people, period, had eyes as green as Ramin’s, like jade catching the light.

Stacy had green eyes—she was kind of conceited about them—but they were like, gray-green, not true green like Ramin’s.

The color of spring. Stacy’s weren’t nearly as striking. Noah could never tell her that, though.

Ramin was still smiling at Noah, though it had started to fade a bit. Noah smiled back, though.

“Any time, dude. See you tomorrow.”

Now

Noah couldn’t believe his eyes. He nearly took his hand off Jake’s head to rub at them.

If you had asked Noah before today whether he remembered anyone from high school, he would’ve said no. Which would have been half the truth: He certainly didn’t think about anyone. But remember?

Turns out he did. One guy, at least.

He hadn’t seen Ramin Yazdani since graduation, but he knew those eyes. Jewel green, framed with long lashes, beneath heavy brows. A hint of dimples in his cheeks. Noah remembered those dimples. Ramin hadn’t smiled often, but when he had, those dimples really popped.

Noah and Ramin had only really become friends senior year, when Ramin’s mom got sick. Noah hadn’t seen that smile very often, so every time he managed to coax one out of Ramin had felt like a victory.

How on earth was Ramin here in Milan? Did he live here?

He was dressed like a local, in a crisp blue polo and linen shorts.

His small stud earrings caught the daylight.

He was skinnier than he’d been in high school, and he sat up straighter now.

He’d used to hunch over himself, like he was waiting for the world to punch him. (Granted, it kind of had.)

Ramin—it had to be him, it had to be—took another bite of gelato, sucking the spoon clean, and his dimples deepened.

Something soft and nostalgic hooked itself behind Noah’s belly button. He should say hello. Right?

But what if Ramin didn’t remember him? Noah hadn’t actually talked to Ramin since graduation. But they’d been friends, hadn’t they? Or had Noah put more stock in their friendship than Ramin had?

Noah hadn’t meant to stop talking to… well, everyone from high school, but he’d moved out of his parents’ place right after graduation and spent the next few years working his butt off. Not that Ramin would’ve had any way of knowing that. Did he think Noah hated him?

Did he think about Noah at all?

It might’ve been moot, anyway, because what if this was just some random Italian that happened to look exactly like his old friend, if his old friend had aged well?

He looked down at Jake, happily going to town on his bright green pistachio gelato. Noah’s own lemon cone was beginning to drip in a few spots, a trail of yellow trickling toward his index finger. He licked it off, the tartness bringing his senses alive.

He had to know, even if he embarrassed himself.

Noah didn’t have many friends— real friends, at least—back in high school, and he had even fewer now.

Somewhere along the way, his whole world had become about Jake (and Angela, back when they’d been married).

But Angela was moving to Italy and maybe taking Jake with her.

And if this really was his old friend, then what did he stand to lose, trying to reconnect?

He swallowed away the sand in his throat.

“Scusi. Are you American? Sei Americano?”

The guy nearly jumped off his stool. Noah hadn’t meant to startle him. He was about to apologize when the man finally turned, and the light caught his eyes, and Noah forgot how to breathe.

“Sì. I mean, yeah. Yes.”

That voice… soft and gentle, high and clear. But happier now. More confident. It had to be Ramin.

Nerves clawed at Noah’s throat. He’d be mortified if Ramin didn’t remember him. He hedged and asked, “This might sound weird, but you’re not from Kansas City, are you? Did you go to Northland High? Class of ’05?”

Ramin slowly nodded.

It really was him.

“Ramin, right? It’s Noah. Noah Bartlett.”

Please let Ramin remember him. Please don’t let this moment be awkward.

“Yup. I mean, yeah. Hey!” Ramin hopped off the stool, but he stuck his foot right into one of the shopping bags on the floor and pitched forward, right against Noah’s chest.

Noah nearly dropped his sorbetto, but he managed to swing it out of the way in time.

He also managed to get a whiff of Ramin’s cologne, citrus and spice, and feel Ramin’s warm weight against him as he took his free hand off Jake’s head to steady him. Ramin blinked, so close his eyelashes nearly brushed against Noah’s face.

And then he righted himself and backed away, holding up his hands like they’d been stained or something. “I’m so sorry. My bag—”

“It’s fine,” Noah chuckled. Ramin looked so funny when he was flustered, his cheeks turning pink. The years really had been good to Ramin—he’d gotten more handsome. “Wow. Ramin Yazdani. I can’t believe it. What’re you doing here?”

Ramin bit his lip for a second. “I guess part vacation, part remote work? But wait, who’s this?” Ramin dropped to a crouch so he was eye level with Jake.

Embarrassment (and a tiny bit of shame) flashed through Noah.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to introduce Jake.

But Ramin had noticed Jake standing there, patiently waiting.

He’d even gotten down to Jake’s eye level.

Like he saw Jake as a full person who didn’t deserve to be talked down to.

Noah’s embarrassment swiftly gave way to warmth.

The Ramin he remembered had always been a good guy.

“Hey. I’m Ramin,” Ramin said to Jake. “I went to school with your dad. Wait. He is your dad, right? If he’s not, blink three times.”

Jake giggled. “He is my dad!”

“Okay, then. What’s your name, Noah’s kid?”

“I’m Jake.”

“Nice to meet you. What are your thoughts on fist bumps?”

Jake held up his little fist, and Ramin bumped it.

“Nice.”

Noah didn’t think he could smile any wider as Ramin stood back up.

“What?”

“Nothing.” It wasn’t nothing. But Noah didn’t know how to say Thank you for being respectful of Jake’s boundaries and ability to consent to physical contact, because his grandparents never were, and even though Jake doesn’t see them anymore since I went no-contact, he still worries in a way that wouldn’t make him look like a weirdo in the gelateria. “You said you’re working remotely?”

Ramin shrugged. “Yeah, kind of. We have an office here, too, so I’ll probably go in some, but mostly I just wanted to… get away, I guess. What about you?”

Noah wanted to know more about that, not talk about himself, but he answered, “Jake’s mom has family here, so we came to visit.”

And Jake might move here with his mom felt too heavy to share.

Another trickle of melting gelato made its way to Noah’s hand. He licked it off, and then along where the cone met the scoop. As he did, he could’ve sworn Ramin’s cheeks flushed, a deep pink that set off his dimples.

Noah’s own cheeks began to burn in response, but before he could say anything else, the doorbell dinged and Angela swept in.

She’d changed out of her travel clothes into a mint green sundress that showed off her hips and boobs.

They were just friends now (thanks to a lot of therapy), but she was still the most beautiful woman Noah had ever seen.

“Oh. Angela, you’ll never believe this. Ramin, meet Angela, Jake’s mom.

Angela, this is Ramin. We went to high school together. ”

“Nice to meet you.” Ramin offered Angela a fist bump, and Noah realized he had a tattoo over his pulse point. It was black script, which Noah figured had to be Persian. He wondered what it said, and if Ramin had any more tattoos for that matter. “Noah said you had family here?”

Angela nodded. “My grandparents. This’ll be Jake’s first time meeting them.”

“Cool. You excited, Jake?”

Jake shrugged, and Ramin’s eyes crinkled up with a wry smile. “A ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one.”

Noah laughed. “Well, I’m excited to try Nonna’s cooking.”

There had to be some good bits to this trip, after all.

At that, Jake perked up. “Do you think she can make macaroni and cheese?”

Noah shook his head and caught Ramin’s eyes. They were practically sparkling with laughter. But then he looked at Angela, and it was like shutters had closed. What was that about?

Ramin seemed to notice, too. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m right in your way, aren’t I?” He stepped back against the bar top, smashing one of his bags with his foot.

“You’re fine,” she said, squeezing past to order, and Jake followed.

“Can I have seconds?”

Ramin barely suppressed a laugh. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Noah watched his son for a moment. A lot of things had gone sideways in his life, but having a son wasn’t one of them. He turned back to Ramin, who was subtly trying to kick his bags out of the way. “Doing some shopping, huh?”

Ramin sighed. “My luggage got sent to Amsterdam.”

Noah winced in sympathy. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“Yeah. But, hey, new wardrobe, new me, I guess.” He tugged at the hem of his polo shirt. “So what have you been up to? You still in Kansas City?”

“Yeah, up in Gladstone. I took some time off when Jake was born, but I’m a carpenter.”

“Oh cool,” Ramin said, and he sounded like he thought it really was cool.

Some people could be kind of judgmental about blue-collar work. But Ramin had never been the judgmental type, and Noah was glad to see that hadn’t changed.

“I’m a disaster at building things,” Ramin said. “Except PowerPoint decks.”

“I bet you’re not so bad.”

“One time I put an IKEA shelf together backwards. Despite the pictures. And I’m still not sure where some of the parts were supposed to go.”

Noah chuckled. “Well, those Swedish pictures are hard to understand.”

Ramin gave a soft smile. Noah caught him rubbing at his tattoo again. He really wondered what it meant. “What—”

“All set,” Angela said.

Ramin jumped, like someone had just zapped him with static. Noah might’ve been a little shocked himself. Talking with Ramin felt like going back in time. Like he was in a different world, until Angela’s voice dragged him back to the real one.

“Oh. What’d you pick?”

“Chocolate.” She held up her cone. “We’d better go.”

She glanced toward Jake, who it seemed had not gotten seconds, and whose face was turning red.

Uh-oh.

Noah had expected the jet lag to hit Jake sooner or later, and probably even make him into a little monster for a while, but it looked like the meltdown was imminent, and Angela knew it.

“Nice to meet you,” she said to Ramin. “Say bye, Jake.”

Jake muttered, but Ramin knelt down and offered another fist bump.

Noah’s heart wanted to melt. Did Ramin have any kids of his own? He was so effortless with Jake.

“I’m glad I met you, Jake. Have fun in Italy.”

To Noah’s surprise, Jake cooled off enough to bump his little fist against Ramin’s. “You too.”

And then Angela was pulling Jake toward the door.

Ramin stood. Noah was frozen. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to say goodbye. Didn’t want to leave this perfect, random, magical moment.

But his gelato had turned to mush. And his son was waiting.

“I’d better go,” he made himself say.

“Yeah. See you.” Ramin’s eyebrows curved down, ever so slightly, like he knew it was a lie.

They’d gone twenty years never seeing each other in Kansas City. What were the chances they’d ever meet again?

But Noah’s son was waiting, so he lied as well.

“See you.”