Fourteen Noah
fourteen
Noah
The dock at Bellagio spilled out onto a curving road where cars and the occasional Vespa zipped by. On the other side, shops and restaurants with colorful awnings glowed in the morning sun. Narrow alleyways marched up the slope, lined with more shops.
It looked like a postcard. Like a painting from someone else’s life. It looked perfect.
Noah pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures, but Angela was already moving. “We gotta go!” she called over her shoulder.
Noah met Ramin’s eyes for a moment; Ramin shrugged and led Jake up the slope, leaving Noah to bring up the rear.
He sighed and tucked his phone away. He could get photos later.
The town bustled with folks strolling in the sun, popping in and out of shops, laughing and smiling.
Noah could imagine Jake happy here. He could imagine himself alone at home, too.
He stuffed that down. This was about what Jake wanted, not what he wanted.
When Jake glanced back, Noah put on his best smile.
If Jake moved here—if this is what he chose—Noah would be heartbroken, but he’d support his son no matter what.
Jake turned forward again, swinging his hand in Ramin’s, taking in the scenery with open wonder. The sight warmed Noah’s heart.
The sight of Ramin in those short shorts warmed a different body part entirely. Ramin’s legs and butt looked amazing as he climbed the slope. Noah almost pulled his phone out, but that would’ve been totally inappropriate.
And thank goodness he didn’t, because Ramin glanced over his shoulder and nearly caught Noah staring.
Noah pretended to be looking at the nearest store window.
Ramin had made it clear in a thousand unspoken ways that they were only friends.
Noah had to respect that boundary, even though every cell in him yearned to smash it down.
The noon sun beat against the back of Noah’s neck, and he hoped he’d put on enough deodorant. Ramin always smelled good, like citrus and leather, though now mixed with sun and sweat. The breeze kept sending whiffs in Noah’s direction.
He reached down to adjust his tightening boxers.
“What’s salita?” Jake asked, pointing to a stone placard hung on the corner of a building—Italy’s version of a street sign.
“It means ‘climb,’” Ramin said. “That’s what they call a narrow street like this that goes up.”
Jake nodded sagely. “I’m hungry.”
“We’re nearly there. We’re looking for Salita Serbelloni,” Angela said over her shoulder. “Keep up, guys!”
Ramin’s eyes widened and met Noah’s for a moment, but Noah shook his head. There was no future in getting between Angela and her schedule.
Angela made a right turn that had them going back downhill, then paused in front of a little shop with a dangling metal sign in the shape of a wine bottle. A few oddly angled steps led up to the bright orange door where a sign read ENOTECA ROSSI .
“Here we are!” Angela reached for Jake, who let go of Ramin to take his mom’s hand. Ramin rubbed at his tattoo, like he missed the warmth of Jake’s hand, and Noah’s heart nearly burst. Ramin was radiant. He was brighter than the sun, and Noah had lived too much of his life in shadow.
Ramin caught his eye, and this time Noah was too slow looking away.
“You okay?” Ramin asked. He scratched at his collar, where a few black chest hairs poked out. Noah wondered what they felt like. “Nervous?”
No, but that was a good enough excuse.
“A bit.”
Ramin gave him a soft, dimpled smile. His stud earrings sparkled, even though they were in the shade. “You need a sec?”
“Nah.”
“You didn’t get any pictures earlier.”
“It’s fine.” It was sweet of Ramin to notice, though. “Come on. Don’t you want to taste some wine?”
Ramin’s smile broadened. “Always.”
“Dad!” Jake shouted as soon as Noah opened the door. “Can I get one of these?”
He held up a bottle of bright yellow limoncello. Noah laughed and let Ramin in behind him. “I don’t think you’re old enough to buy alcohol just yet, buddy. Even in Europe.”
Jake studied the bottle with a puzzled look. “I thought it was lemonade.”
Noah mussed Jake’s hair and stepped in to greet Angela’s grandparents.
Nonno and Nonna—Tomaso and Maria Russo—were talking to Angela, but when Maria spotted Noah, she immediately pulled him into a hug.
“Noah! Every time I see you, you get more handsome.” Her voice was smoky, her English flawless, though every word ended with a consonant so heavy it nearly became a vowel again.
Maria was short and plump, like Angela, with curly white hair piled high on her head.
Her face was lined and suntanned, but her hands were strong as she pulled his face down to kiss his blushing cheeks.
“Every time I see you, you get more beautiful,” he said in response. Granted, he hadn’t seen her since the wedding, but she looked lively and happy and every bit how he’d imagined Angela looking as they grew old together.
Maria let out a musical laugh and swatted his chest. “How was the trip up? Any problems with the barca?” She shook her head. “The ferry?”
“No, it was great,” Noah said. “We actually ran into an old friend of mine. Ramin?”
Ramin had tucked himself into a corner, where he was looking over a wall of bottles, a look of pure awe on his face.
“Huh?” Ramin blinked and shook himself. He approached, a shy smile making his dimples pop. “Sorry. Your store is beautiful. I was just looking at all the Gaja you have.”
Nonna’s limpid blue eyes lit up. “Oh, a man who knows his wine!”
Ramin offered a hand to shake, but Nonna pulled him in and kissed both cheeks. Ramin kissed back, like he’d done it a million times.
“I try.”
“Allora, let’s open a bottle.” Maria dragged Ramin back toward the shelf.
“Nonna, we’re supposed to go have lunch!” Angela called.
Maria waved her free hand, swatting the complaint away.
Noah had never been able to derail Angela’s plans so smoothly. Angela shot him a look, but he just shrugged and joined Maria and Ramin.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Ramin said.
“It’s no trouble.” Maria glanced along the rows of bottles, each with GAJA in white block letters at the top of the label. “Noah’s family, which makes you family.”
Noah’s chest warmed, and he looked away to hide his blush. Sometimes it annoyed him how much Angela took her family for granted, when Noah’s own was a toxic mess.
“Tomaso! Portaci i calici!” Maria shouted at Tomaso, who was nodding along at a story Jake was telling. “And some chips!”
Tomaso was nearly as tall as Noah, though age had stooped him just a bit. He had kind brown eyes with little baggies under them that gave his whole face a friendly, slightly befuddled aspect. Or maybe it was his bushy dark eyebrows, which were still jet black despite his wild silver hair.
He set five glasses atop one of the wooden barrels that served as tables and pulled Noah into a hug. He smelled like musk and Irish Spring.
“What’re you opening, Maria?”
“Noah’s friend wants to try the 2016 Conteisa.”
Ramin squeaked—actually squeaked—and shot Noah a panicked look, but Noah just shrugged as Angela brought Jake over. With practiced grace, Maria cut the foil and began opening the wine, but as she levered the cork out, it broke in half.
“Ah! Tomaso, grab another?”
“Please, it’s fine! I don’t mind,” Ramin said.
“Nonsense. Don’t worry, we’ll try this one later. Maybe it’s still good.”
Ramin gave another one of those squeaks. Noah pressed his lips together to hold in his laugh.
Nonno swapped out the half-opened bottle for a fresh one. This one, Nonna opened with no problem.
While she poured the inky purple wine, Angela caught Noah’s eye with a Let’s talk look. He sidled away while Jake tucked himself between Nonna and Ramin. He looked right at home.
Noah’s heart gave a little pang, but he shoved it down.
They retreated to a little corner near a row of those wine-dispensing machines where you could get little tastes of a bunch of different wines.
Angela bit her lip but didn’t speak up, so Noah did.
“Nonno and Nonna seem happy to see you and Jake,” he said.
“And you,” Angela said. “You know they always liked you.”
“So what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
But Noah knew that face.
“Angie…”
She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear, which she always did when she was trying not to be confrontational. Which was funny, given how much of her life she spent in a courtroom, being confrontational on purpose.
“Did you have to bring your friend along?” she finally asked. “This was supposed to be family time.”
“I thought you were okay with it,” he said. “You didn’t say anything. And Jake was so excited.”
“I didn’t want to be rude. But we’re trying to figure out our future. Jake’s future. It’s hard to do that with an audience.”
She glanced back toward the barrel, where the wine tasting seemed to have been interrupted by Jake wanting to examine Ramin’s tattoos. Ramin stood with a patient smile on his face as Jake traced the black script with a finger.
Noah wanted to freeze time so he could draw this picture-perfect moment.
But he couldn’t.
“I can ask him to leave,” Noah said, though everything in him hated the idea.
“No! No. I’m fine with him along. I just don’t want this to be our whole trip.”
“It won’t. I promise.”
He caught Ramin watching them, gave a little smile and wave. Ramin turned away and stuck his nose back in his glass.
Noah’s heart ached.
It had felt like providence, running into Ramin again, after all these years. Three times, no less! That had to be some kind of miracle. A second chance to rekindle a friendship that Noah hadn’t even realized he missed.
Noah needed friends. Especially if he’d be losing Jake.
“Come on. Let’s try this wine.”