“We had scallions at dinner,” Noel said.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” I told him.
“I was!” he protested. “I just—I wanted to kiss you so bad as soon as I saw you, and then I thought about the scallions and I panicked. I thought, She’s come all the way here and she’s going to run away as soon as she smells my breath.”
“I wouldn’t run away from scallion breath.”
“Oh, you might. This was serious.”
I kissed him again. And this time I think we both felt the cold outside and how precarious it was where we were sitting. We held on to each other like we were holding on for our lives on the edge of this precipice
of the roof, of the end of high school,
of college,
of love,
of scary, complicated, adult-type relationships—
and I felt Noel shaking and I realized he was crying. Not sobbing, but crying gently, like his eyes were leaking and he just couldn’t help it.
“What’s wrong?”
He swallowed. “Booth died,” he said. “My friend Booth was riding ahead of me down Seventh Avenue. We were crossing Twenty-third Street and this car was making a left and I saw it coming, this blue car, and it was like slow motion, Booth crossing the path of the car and it swerving and then the bike hurtling through the air with Booth still clinging to it.” Noel wiped his eyes and went on. “I threw my bike on the sidewalk and ran over. People were standing around and I suddenly realized maybe no one had called the ambulance, so I called, and I had to tell them what happened, and then it took so long for them to come.”
I put my arms around him.
“He was riding ahead of me,” choked Noel. “Because I asked him to. The traffic there is crazy. I just felt better with him up front, leading. But then—”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I had to call Claude,” Noel went on. “I had to tell him what happened. He kept saying ‘What?’ as if he hadn’t understood me. So I had to say it again and again. ‘There was an accident. Booth didn’t make it. There was an accident. Booth didn’t make it.’
“Finally I told him he had to leave work and come home. Like giving him an order. He couldn’t think clearly and it was up to me to tell him what to do. My brother walked out of the restaurant without telling anyone, still wearing his apron. Leaving his tables without their food.
“For a couple days,” Noel went on, “everything was black and choked and we didn’t sleep and people kept coming by. Claude kept saying, ‘Where’s Booth?’ as if he really didn’t know. I couldn’t answer him. I mean, what do you say when someone asks you that?”
I shook my head.
“My mom flew out and even my dad came, our biological dad, and they tried to make me and Claude come home to Seattle, but Claude wouldn’t go, so I stayed too. I mean, he’s my brother and I wanted to be there for him. But once I was alone with him and all the parents left, I just shut down. It was like Claude was feeling everything and I was feeling nothing. I
“Uh-huh.”
“So I kept feeling nothing and kept feeling nothing,” said Noel.
“You can’t feel nothing,” I said. “People can’t. Not really.”
He leaned his head on my shoulder and wiped his face on the hem of his T-shirt. He wasn’t crying any longer.
I squeezed his hand.
Then he kissed my eyelids. Kind of licked them. And if you’ve never had someone lick your eyelids, you should know that it’s not exactly romantic and it’s even a tiny bit gross, but it feels like the other person really likes you and accepts you somehow.
Like he wants your updates. Even your boring ones. Even your mental ones.
“I don’t feel nothing anymore,” he said.
We sat there together for a long while. Holding hands. Thinking about Booth and Claude and everything that had happened.
“Let’s go inside,” I told him finally.
“Yes,” said Noel. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”
We crawled in the window. I went first and scraped my arm.
Noel went second and said, “Why are there—what are these? Are there antacids on my windowsill? Why would there be antacids on my windowsill?” And I laughed so hard I couldn’t explain properly.
Then we shut the screen.
Then we closed Noel’s door.
And the rest of what happened is nobody’s business but ours.
A Final List!
