I change out of my clothes and into a T-shirt and sweats, then grab my phone to call my parents. Hearing Noah’s mom is sick and could die any time has me wanting to talk to my own. A couple years ago, my mom was diagnosed with cancer and for a while we were worried she wasn’t going to make it, but thankfully she pulled through and is now cancer free.
My mom answers on the first ring. “Isaac, is everything okay?”
I chuckle at her worried tone. It’s pretty late on a Friday night, so she’s assuming something is wrong. She isn’t far off…
“I’m okay. I just wanted to say hello… and to tell you that I love you.”
I can hear her smile through the phone. “Oh, meu amor, I love you too.” Meu amor means sweetheart in Portuguese, which is my mom’s native language. She doesn’t speak it often, especially since my dad is Armenian and can’t speak a lick of Portuguese, but she’s been calling me by that nickname since as far back as I can remember.
“I can’t wait to see you,” she continues. “You’re sure you’re okay having us stay with you?”
“Of course.” I glance around the condo that has been my home the past four years. Most kids would live on campus, but my dad insisted if I was going away to school, I would be living where it’s safe—in a building he can monitor. I can’t complain since it’s a nice place with a kickass view. It’s also walking distance from the marina where the boat my parents got me for my high school graduation is docked.
The place is pretty clean, but I’m going to need to bring someone in to make sure it’s to my mom’s standards. The woman is a neat freak.
“Your dad and I will be arriving on Thursday. We’re both so proud of you. I can’t believe you’re graduating. Is there any chance the jobs you’ve been looking into are close to home?”
“Maybe. I’m keeping my options open.”
When I told my parents I wanted to go to college instead of going to work for the family business right out of high school, I expected my dad to be upset, but I should’ve known better. He patted me on the back and told me he would support whatever I decided to do, even if it meant never going to work for him.
Over the last few years, I’ve interned at a few different companies and have found my passion is numbers, but what I want to do with them yet, I’m not sure. I’m also considering extending my schooling and getting my MBA.
“So, any reason why you called tonight… aside from wanting to say hello?”
“And that I love you,” I add, remembering my reason for calling her.
She laughs softly. “What’s going on, Isaac?”
My dad grumbles something in the background, I’m sure asking my mom for the phone to make sure I’m okay. I’m one of the lucky ones who actually gets along with his parents. Don’t get me wrong, my dad is a hard-ass, but we’re close, and I’ve never wanted for anything. I have enough money in my bank account that if I wanted to, I could get on my boat and sail for years without having to work or worry about money. But that’s not what I want to do… I want to find my place in this world. I’ve considered going to work with my dad, but I’m just not sure if it’s the future I want for myself.
“Isaac,” my dad says, shaking me from my thoughts. He must’ve taken the phone from my mom. “What’s wrong, Son?” he asks in a no-nonsense tone. My dad is a fixer, and if there’s something wrong, he’ll do everything in his power to fix it.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry, everything’s okay with me. It’s actually my friend, Noah. His mom is sick and it doesn’t look like she’s going to make it through the night.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
My parents have never met Noah, since the times I’ve visited home for the holidays, he’s had to work, and when they’ve come here, he hasn’t been able to join us, but they know about him and how close we’ve gotten over the last six months. I don’t have a lot of friends, but he’s become a close one.
“I don’t think so. He’s with her now.”
We talk for a few minutes, until my phone beeps in my ear. When I pull it away and see it’s from Noah, I say good night to my parents and let them know I’ll keep them updated. We hang up and I pull up the text.
Noah: She’s dead.
I text back, asking where he is, offering to go to him, but the text goes unread.
For the next few days, I call and text him, but my messages all go unanswered. I go by his place and bang on his door, but he doesn’t answer. I know he’s grieving, but I hate that he’s not letting me in.