44. The House On Darling Street
FORTY-FOUR
THE HOUSE ON DARLING STREET
? Lego House - Ed Sheeran
NOAH
“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up,” a small voice chants.
A persistent bouncing on the mattress jostles me awake, and I groan. “Go away.”
“But it’s morning time.” Auggie’s morning breath tickles my nostrils, causing me to wince.
When I blink my eyes open in the dimly lit bedroom, I’m staring at what appears to be a cyclops with one giant blue eye in the middle of an Auggie-shaped face. His nose is practically plastered to mine.
He finally sits back on his knees, but the reprieve is short-lived as he starts the incessant bouncing again.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, missing it several times before my hand wraps around the device. “August Artemis Weston. It’s five o’clock in the morning.”
“Uh huh. Can I have chicken and waffles before school?”
“Go back to bed for another hour, and you can have whatever you want.”
“But I can’t sleep,” he whines.
You and me both, kid.
I tossed and turned all night until my body finally gave up around three in the morning. I haven’t slept well at all since I got home from the hospital. The concussion subsided around day fourteen, but I still have this stupid cast on my arm that makes it damn near impossible to get comfortable.
To add insult to injury, my dreams are tormented by memories of Clio, and when I wake up with a hard on, I can’t even take care of it because I decided to swerve right instead of left. Even if I was ambidextrous, I’m pretty sure no strenuous activity includes jorking it to thoughts of my neighbor.
Clio’s muffled playlist drifts through the walls like I summoned her with my wayward thoughts. I reach across the bed for a pillow and hold it against my face. If I keep it there long enough, maybe I’ll pass out.
“Uncle Noah,” Auggie says, reminding me I still have to be an adult today.
“Fine. Let’s go make breakfast.”
He jumps off the bed with a loud thud and scurries to the kitchen as I throw back the covers and stand. The fresh tattoo on my thigh throbs under my sweatpants, and I make a mental note to pull off the second skin later. Gwen did an incredible job.
I’ve learned to do a lot of things with my left hand lately, but tattooing isn’t one of them.
Case in point: Auggie’s breakfast. I drop the first set of toaster waffles onto the floor and manage to save the second attempt. The chicken nuggets survive, though, so at least there’s that.
I don’t usually drop him off at preschool until later in the morning, but Auggie begs to go as soon as they open, and I have no excuse not to let him. It’s not like I’m working, and I’m not exactly the best company to be around these days. I can’t draw with him or make forts and shadow puppets.
Signing is nearly impossible, so Jonah has taken over bath time since I can’t do that, either.
It’s good for them, though. They need the extra bonding time.
I’m thinking about asking Jonah to move in since he’s been looking for a place.
He’d have to sleep on the pull-out, but it’s better than Emma’s lumpy couch.
The transition hasn’t been easy; there’s a lot of history we need to reconcile, but Jonah’s in therapy twice a week and he attends meetings to maintain his sobriety. I’m not sure we’ll ever be as close as we used to be, but for Auggie’s sake, I’m willing to put in the effort.
We arrive at the school as soon as the doors open, and Auggie barrels toward his classroom as fast as his little legs will carry him. “Bye, Uncle Noah,” he calls over his shoulder.
“See ya, buddy.”
The noise must draw Clio’s attention because she steps out of her classroom just in time to catch him in a tight hug. My breath catches in my throat.
There’s that smile I’ve missed so much, only it’s not directed at me, and I’m not sure it ever will be again. She ushers him to his cubby nearby. While he hangs up his backpack, we lock eyes across the corridor, and time stands still for a fraction of a second.
I raise my hand and wave. She waves back with the smallest lift of her hand. Neither of us says anything, and the hole in my heart becomes a gaping chasm. I’m not sure how much longer I can withstand it.
The morning passes at a glacial pace; without work to keep me busy or Clio to distract me from my misery, I don’t know what to do with myself. What do people do all day besides wallow?
Me: I’m bored.
Jonah: Spend a year in jail then you can talk to me about bored.
Emma: Too soon.
Me: Lunch?
Jonah: Only if you’re buying.
Me: Deal. Meet me at Catalano’s in 30.
Emma and Jonah are already at a small four-seater table when I arrive. Bypassing them, I head up to the counter to place my order. After a minute with no Ben, I do the asshole thing and ring the bell. I never liked using those, but it’s not like Ben to make his customers wait.
A few seconds pass before his head pops over the swinging doors to the kitchen. “Be there in a sec. Oh. Hey, Noah. My baker quit, so it’s gonna be a minute. You want your usual?”
“Yep.”
“You got it. I’ll be back.”
I head over to the table and sit across from Emma. In the midst of a prolonged, awkward silence, she picks up a napkin and folds it into an origami swan.
Jonah’s the first one to break the silence. “Do you remember the time capsule we buried back behind the old house?”
Emma’s brows draw together. “What? When was this?”
I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “You were only like six years old, so you wouldn’t remember.”
“Peak trauma. Got it. I'll bring this up with my therapist later. Go on.”
Jonah chuckles. “What are the odds it survived?”
I shrug. “We could sneak back there and dig it up. Nobody lives there now. It’s been on the market for like a year now.”
“Isn’t that bitch Karen the listing agent? I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side,” Emma muses.
“I’m already on her bad side.”
“True, but I’d rather not give her a reason to call her husband to arrest you. I just got one brother out of jail. Let’s not make this a family thing.”
“I could buy the place.” The words come tumbling out of me without an ounce of forethought. Jonah and Emma’s heads snap up, and they stare at me expectantly.
I look between them. “What?”
“You want to buy our childhood home?” Emma asks curiously.
At first, it was a fleeting thought, but it’s starting to grow roots the longer I think about it. “It has a big yard for Auggie to play in. We could fix up the old treehouse for him. Give him some stability… We could get a dog. Cli—”
Emma gives me a sympathetic smile and finishes for me. “Clio always wanted a dog.”
“How did you know?”
“She mentioned it that night at her apartment when we were watching Bluey with Auggie.”
She was in so much pain that night, she could’ve said she was training to be an astronaut, and it wouldn’t have registered.
There was another night, just the two of us, where she talked about a home, a dog, and putting down roots in Willow Valley.
I remember because it terrified me at the time—not the idea itself, but how badly I wanted to be a part of it.
“She texts me every day, you know? Checking in on Auggie… and you.”
My heart skitters to a halt, and I can’t catch my breath. “She does?”
Emma nods and sets her origami napkin in the middle of the table. “It’s not too late to win her back.”
“She’s not a stuffed animal at the county fair. I can’t just throw darts at a wall and hope one lands.”
“It’s not about the darts. It’s about the effort. Even if you miss, at least you can say you tried.”
Not a moment too soon, Ben arrives, looking extra disheveled with three orders on a tray. He sets them down and swipes the back of his hand over his forehead. “Sorry for the wait. Tony up and quit on me this morning, so I’ve been pulling double-duty.”
Jonah pauses with his sandwich halfway to his mouth and a curious expression on his face. I subtly nod toward Ben, but Jonah ignores my encouragement and takes a generous bite instead. If he’s not going to do it, I will.
“So, Ben. What’s your policy on hiring almost felons?”
Jonah chokes on his sandwich, coughing and pounding his fist against his chest. “Jesus, Noah.”
“You looking for work?” Ben asks, turning a scrutinizing gaze on Jonah.
He nods. “Kinda hard to get a job in a town that knows all of your secrets and thinks you might have killed your former partner.”
Ben clamps a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “You’re hired. And for what it’s worth, I don’t listen to half the bullshit this town spews. It’s good to have you back, man.”
“You don’t want my resume? References?” Jonah smirks. The three of us, along with our friends, Jaxon and Ryan, were thick as thieves back in school. When Ryan died, we all drifted apart. Jonah drifted farther than any of us, so when Ben says it’s nice to have him back, he means it.
“You know how to read a recipe and follow instructions?” Ben asks.
“Yeah.”
“Be here at six a.m. tomorrow, and we’ll start your training.”
Ben leaves, and I turn my attention to my meal. Turns out, it’s not easy to eat a large Italian sub one-handed. Half of my toppings end up back in the basket and down the front of my shirt.
Jonah laughs. “You’re worse than Auggie.”
“Fuck you. You try eating with one good arm.”
Jonah wipes his mouth and heads for the counter, returning with a knife and fork. He takes my plate and cuts my sandwich into bite-sized pieces like I’m a goddamn toddler, and I can’t even complain because the alternative is to let him feed it to me.
“What are you doing after this?” Emma asks, not looking up from her phone long enough to notice the spectacle.
I swallow down the bite of my sandwich that made it all the way into my mouth this time. “Killing time until we have to pick up Auggie from preschool.”
“There’s an open house until five.”
“The house?” Jonah asks.
“Mhm. Kinda feels kismet, don’t you think?”
Emma’s as superstitious as they come. She believes in astrology and fate more than anyone I know, and when she gets an idea in her head, it’s best to go along for the ride.
“I guess we’re going to an open house.”