Noelle takes a sip of wine, and I envy it. Being in her mouth, sliding down her throat. Residing inside of her body. “You’re going to think I’m weird.” Her shyness forces her to look away.
“Try me.” There isn’t anything weird about my girl.
“People,” she responds. My perplexity must show, so she elaborates. “They’re fascinating creatures. They travel from the oddest places or from right here in the city to stay in a room thousands of others have, and I find it interesting to observe their stories.”
Christ.She’s too damn good for this world. “Have you worked in the field before?”
“Yes and no.” A sadness envelops her, and I have the feeling I’m going to learn more about what makes her tick. “I’m originally from North Dakota; that’s where I was before…. My parents owned the cutest bed and breakfast, and I loved working there. I helped Mom at the front desk, checking people in, handing out maps, and telling the ones with children the best places to go for kid-friendly fun. I got to see the world without actually going anywhere.”
Brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, I understand her a little more now. “That must have been quite the experience.”
“It was. One time, not long before..., this family came to us from Jamaica. They ran a resort down there, and one of their customers recommended us. Can you believe that? They told them they had to experience winter at the most quaint B & B. So, they came and stayed a week. Froze their butts off and loved every minute of it. The following summer, we were supposed to go to their resort.”
Her defeat is crushing. She doesn’t have to verbalize it. They never got there because her parents died. “You know you can see the actual world, right? Go travelling.”
“I know. But hearing about how other people live through their travels is so refreshing and nice when maybe I wouldn't otherwise get to experience their culture.” There’s more passion in her voice than I’ve ever heard before.
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
Noelle doesn’t hesitate to answer. “India. Their culture, the traditions they have carried on for thousands of years, the food. There is just so much to see and learn there. Did you know the whole of India has over two hundred languages and dialects?”
“Can’t say I did.” Her smile is contagious. “Do you want to learn one?”
Her head is shaking before I get the question out. “No, I would butcher it, and that would be a shame. But to listen to them speak, it’s almost lyrical. And the music is so full of life. I could spend a lifetime there and never experience half of what they have to offer the world.”
I wanted tonight to be all about learning about her, and she is delivering. Noelle has a heart of gold and a wandering soul. She doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to India. She’s going to experience everything she can with me by her side.
* * *
Noelle
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but the restaurant gets more crowded the longer we chat. By the time dessert is placed in front of us—a shared slice of vanilla bean cheesecake with a scoop of chocolate ice cream drizzled with caramel sauce—I feel like I’ve known Holden for years instead of days.
Once he got me talking, it was easy to open up to him about so much, and he was eager to learn everything he could. He listened with rapt attention to every answer. I felt he held things back, but I think it’s because he was afraid he would scare me off.
As he spoons another forkful of cake into my mouth, I moan from the flavors exploding on my tongue. Rich but not too sweet. Creamy but not overly thick. It’s the perfect dessert.
“Tell me about your aunt.” At his question, I swallow roughly and look down.
“My aunt?” I mutter around a mouthful. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” The intensity in his eyes has grown, and I can see the same contempt in them as when he met my uncle.
Swallowing my bite, I push the plate away. “I assume you don’t want to know how she grew up or where she went to school?” His jaw ticks. “What is it you want, Holden?”
Lifting his hand, his finger gently grazes along the neckline of the borrowed dress before pulling it aside to catch a glimpse of the bruises the bodice has hidden well all evening.
“I want to know if she’s as abusive as your uncle.” And just like that, what I’ve tried to keep unspoken is out in the open.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Turning my head, I’m stunned to see a man who should be in prison walking through the front door of the Cardi. “I thought he was in jail.”
Holden looks back, and though the change is slight, I notice it. His rage is nearly combustible. Striding in like he doesn’t have a care in the world is Johnny Allen, a man who, last year, slaughtered his pregnant girlfriend.
“I can’t believe they let him go.” A shiver works up my spine, and Holden pulls me closer as Allen and his companion begin walking our way, heading towards another table.
“The cop who arrested him was drunk and didn’t sign the evidence bags. Left them out in the open too. The asshole should be in prison along with Allen.” Holden growls. It bothers him that this man is free.
As they sit, Holden turns back to me. “Look, I don’t want you to talk about shit that hurts you, but baby, I don’t like the idea of you going back home.”