Eighteen Noah
eighteen
Noah
Jakey?” Noah knocked on the bathroom door. “You still doing okay, buddy?”
“Don’t come in!”
“I won’t. Do you need anything?”
“No.” His voice got smaller. “Don’t be mad.”
Noah dropped his voice, made it as gentle as possible. “I’m not. You can’t help it if you don’t feel well.”
“Okay.”
Noah pinched at his cross. Poor Jake. An upset stomach and an upset mother.
Angela was pacing back and forth in the living room, furiously swiping on her phone to check the ferry times. Angela had so many great qualities. She was feisty, intelligent, kind, organized, loving. But she’d never been particularly flexible, and when you had a nine-year-old, you needed to be.
Jake couldn’t help an upset stomach. Maybe it was the different food in Italy, or maybe it was the stress of travel, or maybe it was just that sometimes people got sick.
Noah knocked again. “I’ll be close if you need me. Just holler, okay?”
“Okay.”
Noah popped his head in the kitchen, where Ramin was helping Maria and Tomaso with the dishes. He looked right at home, smiling as he scrubbed the ravioli pot, and Noah’s heart swelled.
He shook himself. If he hadn’t been so distracted with Ramin, maybe he would’ve noticed Jake wasn’t feeling well sooner.
“All good?”
“Va bene,” Maria said, elbowing Ramin. “I might steal his passport so he has to stay here.”
Ramin laughed and blushed. Noah made himself turn away, heading toward the living room.
Angela was biting her lip and looking out the window, her phone held limply at her side.
“We’ll be okay,” he told her. “It’s not like we’re in Siberia. What’s the worst that could happen?”
She sighed. “Nothing. I don’t know. We have stuff to do in Milan tomorrow. If we don’t make it back, we’ll have to cancel, and it was really hard to get tickets to see The Last Supper , and I know you wanted to see it—”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Jake is more important.”
“I know he is! You don’t think I know that?” Angela snapped.
“Angela.” Noah took a deep breath. “If you’re going to get frustrated every time you have to adjust your plans because of Jake, you’re going to spend your life here constantly frustrated.”
“So, what, the answer is him staying with you? What kind of future is that?”
Angela’s voice was dripping with disdain. She did that sometimes—in her more self-aware moments, she admitted she was “allergic to being wrong”—but Noah didn’t miss that side of her.
Like usual, she regretted it right away.
“Sorry. That was…”
Unkind. Rude.
“Kind of bitchy, wasn’t it?”
Noah shrugged. This is how it always went, when they fought. She got mad, said something mean in the heat of the moment, and always, always managed to poke the scabbed-over wound that Noah’s parents had left him with. He’d had years of therapy, but that didn’t mean he was magically better.
Noah kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to agree with her, even if some part of him secretly did, because being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything. Neither would name-calling. Or swearing.
She finally locked her phone and put it away to look at Noah.
“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Noah was proud of himself for keeping his voice even and not lashing out in return. His therapist would say he was allowed to be angry back. But what kind of example did that set for Jake?
“Jake’s life could be full here. With Nonno and Nonna. With a fresh start. He could learn another language, he could visit all of Europe, he could go to school without worrying about guns.”
Yeah, that all sounded amazing. Especially that last point. When Noah thought about that, he was ready to sign Jake up for school here himself.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding mean, so I apologize in advance, but, Noah…
you don’t exactly have friends back home.
You don’t talk to your parents. You just go to work and go to the gym and come home, and your whole life is just Jake, Jake, Jake.
You’re going to smother him, and you’re going to burn yourself out, and I worry about you.
You’re lonely, and our son can’t be the solution to that. It’s not fair to him.”
Noah wanted to argue with her, but the knife she’d stuck in his heart was lodged too deep. It was one thing to think it to himself, but to hear Angela say it? How pathetic must he seem? No wonder she wanted Jake to move with her.
“That’s not…” Noah began, but then Ramin stepped into the room, carrying a tray with tiny cups of espresso.
“Nonno thought you might like some,” he said, way too brightly.
He must’ve overheard some of the conversation. But he didn’t react, didn’t do anything but smile his dimply smile at Angela as she took a cup, before turning it on Noah. It wasn’t just his smile, it was his lake-green eyes, which were so full of kindness, Noah wanted to hide.
He wanted to hide and he wanted to pull Ramin out into the rain and do unspeakable and inappropriate things together, things Ramin wasn’t ready for because he was still getting over his heartbreak, and maybe he didn’t find Noah attractive the way Noah found him attractive anyway.
Instead, he managed to grunt out a “Thank you.” He dropped a lump of sugar into his cup, gave it a stir, and took a sip.
Some part of him registered that it was good, the roast dark but not too bitter, the crema nice and foamy, but he was too worried about Jake, too hurt from arguing with Angela, too worried she was right to taste much else.
“There’s more if you want some,” Ramin said, turning back, but he paused. His voice brightened. “Oh. Jake! You feeling better?”
In a flash, Noah was crouching next to his son, feeling his forehead. “Hey, buddy. You all better?”
Jake nodded. And then he let out another big burp.
Noah thought he was going to run back for the bathroom. But he just excused himself and asked if he was in trouble.
“Of course not. As long as you feel okay, that’s all that matters,” Angela said. But she pulled out her phone to glance at it, then nodded at Noah. “We’d better get going, though.”
The rain had blown out, though the roads were still wet, misting Noah’s face on the ride back into town.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the coolness on his skin.
The warmth of Ramin in front of him. He wished he could stop time, that life could always be this—a lazy day, a delicious lunch, a beautiful man to wrap his arms around—but of course it couldn’t.
And besides, if life was always like this, then Jake would always be sick, and he would never wish that.
When Nonno pulled over to park, Ramin did as well, bringing them to a smooth stop.
“You sure this was your first time driving one of these?” Noah asked.
Ramin shrugged. “It wasn’t so hard once I got used to it.”
Noah wished he could say the same about the situation in his shorts. He let Ramin get off first and pretended to stretch his lower back to give himself time to deflate.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Maria said, cupping Noah’s face before kissing his cheeks. “You’re always family. Always. Don’t forget.”
Noah’s chest tightened, his cheeks turning warm beneath Maria’s hands. “I won’t.”
He wouldn’t forget. But he wouldn’t be back here, either. This was Angela’s future, not his.
“Next time we’ll go fishing!” Tomaso added.
Noah smiled. “That sounds nice.”
He caught Maria holding Ramin’s elbows. “Have a beautiful time here,” she told him.
“I will. Thank you for your hospitality.” Ramin’s eyes twinkled. His earrings shone in the setting sun. “It’s a tough life.”
“It’s a tough life!” Maria said with a laugh, pulling him in for another hug.
On the other hand, if somehow Ramin was here, too, then Noah wouldn’t mind coming back.
They waved as Nonno and Nonna drove off, then joined the line for the ferry, which snaked back and forth across a wide piazza before extending down the street.
“We can still make it,” Angela said, though Noah recognized the barest hint of anxiety in her voice, the little wobble that she fought so hard to hide from everyone.
And maybe they could have made it, if they’d been let onto the first ferry that came. Or the second. Or the third.
“They said they’ll get everyone back to Como who wants to go,” Angela said when she bustled back into line, her lips pressed flat. “As many ferries as it takes. But no guarantee on arrival time.”
“We’ll be okay.” Noah played with Jake’s hair while Jake peppered Ramin with questions about whether he had pets, and whether he wanted pets, and what kind of dog he would get.
“We will,” Angela agreed, though she bit her lip. “We’ll figure something out.”
They were halfway to Como when the rain began again.
They had finally made it onto the sixth (or was it the seventh?) ferry. It was much smaller and much faster than the one they’d caught that morning. They’d found seats inside, so they managed to stay dry, though Noah could still hear the rain pounding the deck above.
Angela spent the ride on her phone, trying to figure out how to get back to Milan. They’d already missed their bus, but hopefully there would be more. Or the train, maybe, though it would be a miserable ride in rain-soaked clothes.
Jake had fallen asleep against Ramin’s side. He was going to ask Ramin if it was okay, but one look at Ramin’s face kept him quiet. Ramin smiled down at Jake with such fondness, Noah wanted to cry.
How could he live with his son halfway across the world? How could he endure it?
Finally the ferry docked in Como. The cold rain smacked Noah in the face as soon as he stepped onto the boardwalk. Big, fat droplets slid down his collar. Ramin stifled a curse as he stepped into a huge puddle and nearly tripped, but Noah caught him.
“Thank you.” Ramin wiped at his face. “Where are you all headed?”
“The train station.” Noah nodded ahead, where Angela was waiting for the walk signal at the crosswalk, huddled against the rain. Jake was awake again, already wet and shivering.
A silent war raged across Ramin’s face. Noah had the unreasonable urge to smooth out the little furrow in his brow. But then Ramin nodded to himself and ran after Angela. Noah jogged to keep up.
“I’ve got a hotel for the night,” Ramin said, raising his voice above the rain. “It’s only a couple blocks away. We can see if they have more rooms.”
Noah was surprised—shocked, really—when Angela actually agreed. Her voice was resigned as she said, “We missed the last train. Which way?”
Ramin gestured down the lakefront. The streetlights were on, bluish haloes marking the rain-darkened streets. Noah scooped up Jake as they made a run for it, ignoring the twinge in his lower back. Carrying Jake after that Vespa ride didn’t feel great.
The rain was so heavy, it felt like blows against his neck and face as they hurried down the street.
The lake rippled in silver swirls. He started once, when a car cut the curb right in front of them—without its headlights on—but they finally made it.
A lit sign above the hotel doors, blurry in the rain, spelled out PALAZZO DEL COMO .
A bright and cheerful lobby greeted them, though the sodden black rain mats covered half the coral-colored marble tiles.
Noah tried to dry his soles, but he just squeezed out more water onto the floor instead.
Jake shivered in his arms, looking around the lobby with wide eyes, while they all followed Ramin to the receptionist’s desk.
“Welcome back, Mr. Yazdani,” the receptionist said. “Sorry you got caught in this weather!”
“It’s okay. Um, these are my friends. Do you have any rooms available for them? Our ferry from Bellagio was late and they missed their bus.”
“Just a moment, Mr. Yazdani…” They clicked away on their computer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yazdani, it’s not looking good…”
“Are you sure there’s nothing?” Ramin leaned closer over the desk. Noah didn’t see what he pulled out of his wallet, but the receptionist’s eyebrows lifted.
“Ah, of course. It looks like we do have one room available.”
“Just one?” Angela asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry, just the one. Queen bed.”
Angela turned back to him. A queen bed would be tight with the three of them, but it was better than sleeping in the train station in their wet clothes. Or heading back into the rain to try to find a room somewhere else.
He could sleep on the floor. Or maybe they had a sofa. His back wouldn’t like it, but as long as Jake and Angela were comfortable—
“Why don’t you and Jake take that one,” Ramin said. “And Noah can room with me? If you don’t mind, that is?”
That last part practically came out as a squeak, and he turned to Noah with a question in his eyes.
Noah swallowed. His stomach gave an uncomfortable swoop that had him worrying he’d end up like Jake.
How was he supposed to share a room with Ramin Yazdani?
Ramin, who was beautiful and kind and had just put a roof over his cold, wet son’s head?
Ramin, who shied away from every touch like Noah was lava. Who was getting over a breakup and wanted nothing to do with Noah.
How could he share a bed with the man he wanted more than anything else?
“That would be amazing,” Angela said. “That work for you, Noah?”
He swallowed again. Pinched at his cross.
This was going to be torture.
“Of course.”