39. Noa
NOA
I’m hanging from the bar in my kitchen that took a short-lived turn as a Lightning Rod. You and me both, buddy, but it’s back to reality . Tears pour, and from my inverted position, they roll down my forehead and into my hairline, which feels way more pathetic than crying right-side up.
Aiden dropped me off at my place after we left CBT, running to the store for ‘supplies.’ Entering my apartment, with tears blurring my vision, every cell inside me was screaming to turn around, go straight to Aarti’s and wait outside her door until she came home.
To tell her I was rash, that it was all a big mistake, and can we just go back to what we had, even if it’s not ideal, even if I’m compromising myself for love like I always do?
But I’m not going to do that anymore, even if this first step feels like torching every instinct I have.
When I walked away from track for Aiden, I left behind everything I’d worked for because I couldn’t bear to see him hurting.
I’ve never regretted that choice, not once, but it was the beginning of a lifetime of prioritizing everything other than myself, over and over and over again.
And what has that gotten me? A string of exes who mistreated me, yet I’m still proudly on decent terms with?
Sharing my sunny disposition with road ragers who’ve never deserved an ounce of my good energy?
The best pint of ice cream I’ve ever crafted, relegated to the back of Aarti’s office fridge behind her stash of emergency kombucha, never to be shared with the world?
Keys jangle in my front door, and I hear Aiden’s voice before I see him.
“Noa Jacqueline, I have returned with fresh spooey!”
He rounds the corner into the kitchen and stops short at the sight of me dangling like a sad, glittery bat.
“Oh, honey.”
“I can’t get down,” I hiccup, face hot from the emotion and the blood rushing to it. “I’m too sad to safely d-dismount.”
He wordlessly positions himself beneath me and guides my legs down until I’m sitting on the kitchen floor, a mess of chiffon and runny mascara. He gives me a hug.
“I know it was the right thing to do, so why does it feel like I just set myself on fire?”
Aiden is quiet for a long moment, braiding a section of my curls while I lean against his shoulder.
“You know,” he finally says, “knowing I was trans and actually deciding to medically transition were two completely different things in my life.”
I look up at him, surprised by the shift.
“Like, I knew who I was. I’d known for years. But the actual choice to transition–to live visibly, to deal with the medical stuff, the social backlash, the extended family drama–that didn’t always feel rewarding or perfectly fulfilling moment to moment.”
He tugs gently on the braid he’s made. “There was pain. Shame. So much second-guessing, especially when people made comments or I had to explain myself to strangers or insurance companies or TSA agents. Sometimes I’d think, wouldn’t it be easier to just… not? To keep hiding?”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. Because even when it was hard, even when it hurt, it was still the truth. And living the truth is better than living a lie.”
I wipe my nose on my dress.
“You made a choice tonight to protect yourself,” Aiden continues. “To refuse to be someone’s secret. That’s brave as hell, Noa, and I’m so proud of you. You’re also allowed to feel terrible.”
“I just… I love her. And I know she loves me too, in her way. What if I’m throwing away something real because I’m being too proud? Too demanding?”
“Or,” Aiden says gently, “what if you’re finally demanding what you deserve? What if you’re refusing to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s requirements?”
We sit in silence for a while, my breathing slowly returning to normal.
“It’s okay to feel uncomfortable with making new types of decisions for yourself,” he adds. “You’ve spent most of your life taking care of other people. Choosing yourself is the brave thing to do. Even when it sucks.”
“Will you stay tonight?” I ask.
“Obviously.”
I lean my full weight against him, grateful to have someone to carry this heaviness with me.