Chapter 35 Noelle
35 Noelle
I call my father while I’m waiting for the bus, but I don’t mention my date with Cam. It’s been so long since I dated someone, and I’m unsure of when I should bring it up. Once I consider him my “boyfriend,” whenever that is? Once we’ve been seeing each other for a month? Three months? Only when I’m ready for everyone to meet?
I decide to wait at least a few weeks, in part because, even if I’ve been on numerous dates with Cam in the past, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it last. And I can’t casually mention a guy and expect the conversation to move on to another topic shortly thereafter; no, if I bring up something like that—with either of my parents—I need to be prepared for questions.
Although I don’t say anything about Cam, I do ask, “Will Madison be there tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Dad says.
“She’s okay with me coming?”
“Yes, but please don’t…” He sighs. It’s not a video call, so I can’t see him, but I imagine him rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t antagonize her. Don’t ask too many questions.”
“Don’t ask too many questions?” I repeat. What on earth?
“Because anything you ask her… she’ll be prepared for an attack.”
“An attack ?”
“About her life choices—and things that aren’t actually choices.”
What the hell happened between us? If only I could call the other version of myself in for questioning.
“Noelle,” he says. “Certain things have always been easy for you. Following instructions. Finishing your homework on time. Getting out of bed in the morning. But many things that seem trivial to you… aren’t simple for other people. Or they go through phases when they’re not. You seem to think that if someone has a legitimate problem, as you like to call it, there will be a straightforward solution, but that isn’t always the case.”
This is the most my dad has lectured me as an adult, and I’m momentarily taken aback. But it provides some clues as to what might be going on.
My little sister is struggling with life. This isn’t the first time; no, her mental health problems started in high school, and she’s never managed to find a career that she can tolerate for long.
I cringe at the thought of what I might have said to her. How did I become so rigid? So lacking in compassion?
“When she moved back home…” Dad begins, and I try to pay attention to what he says next, but I’m stuck on that fact. She was living with her boyfriend. Did they break up?
And she wasn’t at my parents’ house when I visited last time, even though she apparently lives there now. Did she leave just because she knew I’d be coming over?
I blow out a breath. “Okay. I understand.”
I’m still not sure exactly what I said to Madison, but at least I have some sense of what happened, and I understand her better now than I did before the loop.
As I board the bus, I consider some of the ways in which that bizarre experience has changed me. It’s now easy for me to imagine that my sister has gone through something that I can’t comprehend. Probably not as bizarre as a time loop—but I think about how I kept trying to solve that problem and got nowhere, and I’m better able to empathize.
I also recall my brief interaction with the healthcare system. I imagine doing that year after year, not just on a couple of June 20s, without success. It sounds frustrating and demoralizing.
Madison isn’t downstairs when I arrive on Monday after work, but everyone else is already here. Dalton holds Lenora back from trying to scribble with a crayon on Cecil.
I pull the red envelopes out of my bag and give one to my niece. She doesn’t fully understand what it is, but that’s okay; her parents can save the ten-dollar bill for her. Cecil has zero interest in a red envelope, but I thought it was only right to give one to him too.
With infinite patience, Dalton explains over and over that you should only draw on paper, not on babies; Lenora tries to draw on her father instead. Eventually, she’s redirected to the coffee table, where blank paper and crayons are set out for her. I sit on the floor next to her and help myself to a piece of cantaloupe from the fruit tray that my father has prepared.
“How’s work?” Dalton asks, while simultaneously preventing all the fruit from being dumped on the floor by a toddler.
“It’s fine.” I stick with my standard response for now, but I’ll tell my family once I start looking seriously for jobs. So far, I’ve just polished my résumé and done a little searching.
I hear some noise from the hallway, and a moment later, Madison appears. She’s wearing jeans and a large sweater, and she looks like her typical self, to my relief. But then she glances around the room, and I swear her eyes narrow slightly when she notices me.
“Hey, Madison,” I say.
She doesn’t reply.
If she wants to ignore me today, that’s fine—I’m just glad to see her. I think of the day we had dumplings together; I think of the fact that she was the first person I told about my strange reality who believed me.
It doesn’t feel like the best time to try to apologize and make things right—I’d rather talk to her when it’s just the two of us—but I’ll do it soon.
As Lenora attempts to feed Cecil a slice of kiwi, I can’t help wondering what their relationship will be like as they grow up.
The next day, I’m on the bus after work when I get a message from Cam.
CAM: Happy new year! How was your family dinner?
ME: Pretty good. Tired today though.
CAM: Too much food?
ME: of course
CAM: So is it a bad time to ask if you want to eat some more?
CAM: Maybe Saturday? My roommate’s out of town and I thought you could come over for dinner. Or we could go out.
I’ve never been to Cam’s apartment before, though he’s been to mine.
It’s nice that we don’t have to rush to get everything done in one day; it feels like we have all the time in the world now. And he invited me over, which makes me suspect he has something other than food on his mind.
Saturday, I have a late lunch with Veronica. We meet at a congee restaurant, and she gives me a big hug. In some ways, as we reminisce about our university years, it feels like no time has passed.
Veronica, who’s also Asian, has always been louder, brasher, and more chaotic than me. She’s wearing a chunky necklace that I love but would never wear myself. To be honest, in different circumstances, we might not have become friends, but in our engineering discipline, there weren’t a ton of women in our year, and she made a point of talking to me.
There were a few other classmates from university that I spoke to after graduation. However, they felt more like Dave’s friends than mine, and I didn’t try to stay in touch after the breakup. None of them reached out.
“What about you?” Veronica asks after updating me on her life, her voice carrying better in the crowded restaurant than mine does. “Are you at the same company?”
Veronica, naturally, isn’t. She’s just started her third job since graduation.
A part of me wants to ask if she knows a place that’s hiring, but then it would feel like I texted her just to ask for career advice, and that’s far from the truth. Instead, after confirming that yes, I’m still at Woods & Olson, I tell her that I’ve started seeing someone.
“Is this the first guy you’ve dated since Dave?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god!” She slaps my arm. “Tell me everything. How did you meet?”
“He owns a brewery with a couple of friends. He was behind the bar in the taproom when I walked in. I didn’t say much, but I returned the next week and flirted with him. I wrote my number on the bill.”
Veronica’s mouth drops open. “You, Noelle Tom, flirted with a bartender?” She’s not saying it in a mean way. But she knows me, even if we haven’t seen each other in a while.
“Uh, yeah.” I don’t, of course, mention all the practice I’d had.
“Can I see a picture?”
I haven’t taken one, but I bring up the brewery’s website and show her a photo.
“He’s cuuute,” she says, dragging it out in a way that offends my eardrums.
“So, yeah.” I slip my phone into my purse. “That’s what’s new with me.”
“When are you seeing him next?”
“Tonight. I’m going to his place. He’s supposed to cook for me.”
“Ooo-ooh.”
I laugh. “Stop it.”
She does not. She waggles her eyebrows, and I kinda like being teased by an old friend.
“Have you done it yet?” she asks.
“No,” I say, and I feel like I’m rewriting history.
“But maybe tonight?” She shimmies in her seat.
“Veronica!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I don’t confirm, but I don’t deny it either.
I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit. Our first time—but not actually our first time—seems like a good way to begin the year, though I still feel a bit mixed-up about the whole thing, the fact that he doesn’t know the whole truth.
Veronica leans forward and drops her voice. “Is something wrong? You don’t need to put out just because it’s the third date and you’re going to his place. I would, but that doesn’t mean you have to. If you’d feel more comfortable—”
“No, no. It’s not that.” I eat some congee. “I want to. I’m just a bit nervous because…”
“It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.”
She nods and pats my arm. “We should do this more often.”
I’m grateful for the change in topic.
“We should.” I mean it. After my breakup, I retreated from the world, but I wish I hadn’t. In a way, it was like I put my head in the sand and never took it back out.
I can’t change what I did then, but going forward, I can do things differently. Though I doubt I will be as close to Veronica as I am to Avery, I still want her in my life.
It’s exciting to be able to make plans for the future, now that I’ve gotten past June 20.