“The wind will blow around when you least expect it. The sun may shine on you brighter than it had before. A door will open when you least expect it and one will close when you need it to.”
The last time I felt a random gust of wind was my graduation day. Elle’s and my gowns went flying as we crossed the stage to receive our diplomas. I never thought it was my father doing that.
“If I go, will you be there to meet me? To make sure I get to wherever it is I’m supposed to be?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Peyton.”
I open my mouth to thank him, but Noah’s voice interrupts me when he calls out for Liam.
“Dad,” he says.
“I thought now would be a good time to have that talk.”
I turn back to my father, but he’s already gone. Part of me is thankful that he won’t be sitting here, listening to Liam and Noah discuss my prom night, but knowing that my father’s here… well, I don’t like that either.
14
Noah
The scenery of downtown Portland passes by in a blur. I haven’t been able to focus on anything since I left Chicago. Leaving Peyton, lying there and still unresponsive, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. In fact, I don’t even know if I’ll stay in Portland. I know I made a commitment to the team, but my head is not in the game right now. Not when my heart is thousands of miles away, begging the one I’m in love with to stay with us.
When she made it through the first night, I thought for sure she was going to wake up. Her vitals improved, and finally, everyone jumped on my train and started encouraging her to open her eyes. She hadn’t by the time Tuesday afternoon rolled around and I was left with the decision to get fined by the team or head back home. I figure if I tell the coach what’s going on, he’ll understand and let me skip practice because like my friend Leo says, “it’s only practice.” And as much as I wanted to agree with Leo, we need the practice.
I was in two minds when I arrived back in Portland. Go directly to my coach’s house or go home. Neither seemed pleasant, but I chose the latter and now that I’m standing in front of the door to the apartment I share with Dessie, I’m preparing for the worst. I deserve whatever I’m about to walk into. I’ve ignored her for the past few days, choosing to focus on Peyton instead. No one, except for maybe my father now, understands my feelings for her.
I find my dad kneeling in front of the altar, praying. We’re not religious by any means and have spent our Sunday’s praying in front of the television by watching football. But it seems that you become so when a loved one is suffering.
Searching him out to discuss what he heard isn’t my idea of a good time, but while we were drinking the nasty coffee downstairs, Leo said something about how we should never leave doubt or speculation when it comes to a loved one. His words hit home hard. I’ve always been honest with my dad about everything, except when it comes to Peyton because I fear his reaction. I wasn’t honest with her, even though I’ve had plenty times where I could’ve been and now I may never get the chance to tell her exactly how I feel.
“Dad?” I feel horrible for interrupting him. He has his own demons he’s been dealing with for years, and I imagine being alone in a chapel is what he needs. Even though he wasn’t here when Mason died, he carries a tremendous amount of guilt over his best friends death.
“Noah?”
“I thought now would be a good time to have that talk.”
He stands and motions for me to sit down. My steps are slow as I walk toward the altar, eyeing the burning candles. The pew is hard and does nothing to comfort the aches and pains I’m feeling.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Your mom always tells me to start at the beginning because I’m less likely to get into trouble.” He smiles.
“I can’t be in trouble for what I’ve done, so maybe you’ll listen and understand where I’m coming from.”
“I’ll try,” he tells me.
I suppose trying is all I can ask for. Clearing my throat, I stare straight down at the ground. “For as long as I can remember, Peyton has been in my life. Everywhere I went she was there. Every holiday. Birthday parties, a family get-together, you name it, and she was there.”
“She’s family.”
I shake my head. “Not to me. When I was about fifteen, I started to notice her differently. I couldn’t stop thinking about her in ways that I shouldn’t. I’d cry at night because I thought I was going to go to hell for having those thoughts about her and hoped they would go away, but they didn’t. They grew stronger.