“I flew to Chicago and rented a car. I was going to surprise you, but when I drove up the North Shore to your home…” His voice trailed off. “Grace, you live behind a gate and the drive was so fucking long I couldn’t even see your house.”
I didn’t understand what my Uncle’s house had to do with anything so I stayed silent. This obviously frustrated Noah because he drew one hand through his hair, hair that I now knew was soft as my aunt’s mink coat.
“What?” I protested.
“You don’t even see how different that is. I grew up very poor. Maybe you got that from my letters and maybe you didn’t. But I was some grunt from the Marines and while I had saved money, it wasn’t anything like that. I couldn’t afford to buy you a house like that.”
“I don’t want a house like that.” The house itself wasn’t so bad, but the constant tension of watching your mother move around like a ghost and your aunt run down your best friend until she was afraid to eat was intolerable. I didn’t want to live in a house like that, ever.
“But you live a life completely different than mine,” Noah said. “Do you even know how much it costs to go to college here for one year?”
I didn’t know. I mean, I knew it was expensive, but Uncle Louis paid for my tuition and my apartment. And I was finally seeing where Noah was going with this.
“Ah, the light dawns,” he said, with a frustrated undertone. He had tilted his head so he could see me.
“So you didn’t want to meet me because you thought I was a snob?” I asked, frustrated myself.
“Okay, I was wrong. The light isn’t dawning. You’re just going down the wrong tunnel,” he sounded angry and a little bitter.
“You insulting me isn’t going to make me understand better.”
He threw up both hands in a defensive position. “I just wanted to meet you on equal terms so you didn’t feel sorry for me.”
“I never felt sorry for you! I always thought you were amazing and brave and—” I cast around for another word but failed. “Amazing.”
“I just needed some time,” Noah said, sounding resigned and tired.
“So here you are, all fixed up and feeling ‘equal,’ and I’m supposed to just be ready for you?” Our two years of separation was because he felt he wasn’t good enough? I wanted to cry at the injustice.
“No, you’ve always been perfect,” Noah protested.
“Well, I’m not. You have all these plans and goals, and I can’t even decide on a major.” I gestured toward his books on the desk.
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
“Your money or lack of it doesn’t matter to me,” I assured him.
“It should,” Noah’s face took on a grim cast. “My mom died because we didn’t have enough money.”
“You don’t know that Noah. You don’t know if she would’ve survived if she had better medical care. No one knows that for sure. You should’ve written me. Or met me and told me. I’d have waited or gone to college in San Diego,” I pointed out.
“Yes, well, none of those things really occurred to me back then. I told you I was screwed up.”
We were both breathing heavily as if we had engaged in a physical fight instead of just throwing a bunch of words back and forth. Noah blew out his breath and leaned toward me, one arm crossed over my body.
“I was tired of the war, the dust, the desert. Being back in San Diego as a civilian was weird. I missed the adrenaline high of always being alert. I started fighting in a gym and then working and taking classes, and when I was super busy, I felt more normal. The relaxation bit was difficult.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I, ah, had to talk to someone for a little while to try to get my head screwed on straight.”
I hadn’t really thought of this. Noah always seemed perfectly together in his letters, often making jokes. Even now he presented himself as this supremely confident male. I wanted to kick myself for being so self-absorbed and not truly understanding how difficult the transition from enlisted Marine to casual civilian must be for him.
“Grace, I want to be with you. I think you want to be with me. Can’t we put it all behind us and start new?” he pleaded softly.
I looked into his face, and I thought about the Noah I knew from his letters. He was funny, generous, and kind. I had fallen in love with him once, and I was halfway there now. I just didn’t know if he’d hurt me again.
“You make me nervous,” I confessed.
“A good nervous?”
“I’m not certain. I feel like,” I sat up, wanting him to understand me. “I’m not seeking any compliments here, but I feel like you’re out of my league.”