Chapter 36
Noah
Noah felt like he was floating when Emi dropped him off at his parents’ house.
He’d gone up the mountain feeling the weight of his responsibilities, but his lens had shifted, and he couldn’t believe his good luck.
Even his parents’ house, as humble as it was, looked beautiful to him.
The garden was immaculate, the garage door freshly painted, and the gravel next to the basement windows neatly raked.
“Hi, Noah,” said their neighbor Stacy. She was in her sixties and had worked in one of the two public preschool classrooms for many years.
Noah had heard enough about the way she’d been treating his parents to be wary of her.
Stacy looked every inch the kind, respectable neighbor, wearing sweatpants and an old Love Hollow Bucks shirt as she worked in her garden.
In fact, once upon a time, she used to be rather kind.
Every time she talked about her work, she seemed both proud and angry, but apart from that, she was okay.
She was strict about only letting the kids have one piece of candy each on Halloween, but at least she didn’t run out, and she never failed to say hello.
At the moment, though, Noah didn’t want to talk with her. He only raised his eyebrows and nodded, giving a dim imitation of a smile. It usually worked in LA when he wanted to stop talking to someone, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect in Love Hollow.
“The weather looks great for the festival,” she said. “My nieces are going, and I even got a senior ticket one day.”
Then you lied about your age, Noah thought. Either when you bought the ticket or two years ago, when you claimed to be in your fifties.
“Good to hear it,” he said carefully, giving her the smallest of waves before he let himself into the house.
For a moment, his mood crumpled. He had pictured the festival as an event that would bring people together.
And unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a way of keeping people like Stacy out.
He should talk to Grace about her ticket, though.
If it had been a fraudulent purchase, maybe they could send her an email.
Dear Valued Customer: It has come to our attention that there has been an error in the purchase price of your ticket.
A discount that was meant to be applied only for senior citizens was added to your ticket.
Lots of passive voice to make her think it had been generated automatically.
“Tadaima,” he said, his voice slightly hushed.
“Okaeri!” Since only his father replied, he imagined his mom must be off somewhere.
In the living room, which had apparently been converted into a baby room, his dad was on the floor once again. Baby Hana was drooling and smiling.
Noah, still unsettled by his brush with Stacy, frowned at the sight.
“So, are you and Mom the full-time help now? Does Nami ever s-see her kid?”
“She does” came a response from the kitchen.
Noah’s mother and sister came into view.
“Sorry, Nomnom,” said Noah immediately, but the damage was done. His sister was scowling.
“Are you sad that Hana replaced you as the baby of the family?” she asked sarcastically, scooping up Hana and settling her on her hip. “Wish that Mom and Dad would still think of you as not fully capable of, I don’t know, wiping your own nose?”
She daubed at Hana’s nose as she said it. Hana squirmed, and her grandmother stepped in immediately.
“I’ll take her out back,” she said. “You two, have a cup of tea.”
Noah scowled at his sister. “No, thanks. I’ll watch Hana for a minute.”
“Why don’t you entertain her with a song instead,” said their father. He had always been the peacemaker, which sometimes bothered his wife.
But she nodded approvingly. “Yes. We’re storing so many musical instruments for you in our basement. Go get one and make yourself useful.”
“I told you that you could sell those,” Noah said, rubbing his neck as he went down the stairs.
“They feel weird about it!” Nami yelled after him. “Here, buy this cheap mandolin, once used by the famous Noah Kato. You should sell them yourself.”
“I don’t want them,” Noah grumbled, though he was out of his sister’s hearing. The basement was full of things, but they were carefully organized, so he was able to find the corner with his instruments easily. They were neatly arranged next to a tower of book boxes.
He went back upstairs with a guitar. It had been his first instrument, apart from the cellos that had introduced him to music, and he still felt sentimental about it.
For years, he could spend hours on the guitar, playing his favorites and noodling away.
It was the very instrument he had used for that rendition of “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair” with Aya in high school, the one that had almost led to his kissing her before he lost his nerve.
He sat down on the playroom floor, where his family was assembled, and played the first few chords of that song.
It lifted his spirits instantly. But not wanting them to ask about Aya or know what he was thinking, he quickly switched to “Slumber My Darling” and smiled when he saw Hana gurgle. It would be a good lullaby for her.
For the next half hour or so, his whole family was happy.
Noah was surprised by how much he had missed playing.
The festival included him and his band, of course, but he’d intentionally packed their set with songs they could play in their sleep, so he hadn’t been practicing much.
And keeping Hana entertained was its own challenge, requiring him to play lots of nursery songs by ear and change his expressions with her.
He even started writing a song about a teddy bear she had been mouthing.
“That wasn’t bad,” said Nami as she was getting ready to take the baby home. “You should write more songs and record them. If it wouldn’t be hard for you to do that.”
Noah followed with a technical explanation of what recording considerations a person might need when recording songs for a children’s album.
Nami burst out laughing. “Do all singers know that stuff, or are you just a nerd?”
Noah shrugged. “Everyone has some idea of the basics. I mean, you have to. You can’t risk sounding terrible. But I’m more interested in the details than most artists. Usually, the guys recording me either love me or hate me.”
“Guys? Don’t tell me they’re all guys.”
“I mean, there are women who can do the work. But they don’t tend to get hired. So yes, mostly guys.”
Hana took the baby from their dad, tucking her into some kind of body sling with an agility that Noah thought he would never be able to match. “Shame. I wish we could dismantle the patriarchy before this one comes of age, but it seems unlikely.”
“Yeah,” said Noah.
Hana was suddenly limp and tired. He felt the same way and touched her fuzzy head.
“Thanks, Han-Han,” he said.
Nami looked at him, suspicious. “New nickname?”
“Yes. After her mom.”
After a pause, Nami gave a grudging smile. “I like it.”
After she left, the house seemed empty again. Noah went off to his room for a nap but found himself waking up quickly. The thoughts of Aya were too strong, too persistent. He needed to be with her again. Immediately.