One cool night inmid-July, they cuddled together in Errol’s office watchingCenter Stage,which, to AJ’s supreme delight, Noah had never seen. As AJ explained the finer points, Noah wrapped his arm around her, and Bud rested her soft head on his lap.
“That’s Cooper Nielson,” AJ informed him. “He drinks like a fish and screws every girl in tights.”
“So, he’s a predator,” said Noah.
“No, that’s a direct quote from the movie.” AJ nestled into his chest. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.”
It was a lighthearted watch that brought AJ tremendous, unfettered joy, which was perhaps why she failed to sense Noah’s distress. As his knee began to vibrate to Jody Sawyer letting loose in a Midtown dance loft, AJ assumed it was because he too was very into the “Higher Ground” choreography. But when the music stopped and Noah’s knee didn’t, she touched him.
“Your motor’s going,” she said. He didn’t respond. She looked up and was shocked to find him fighting back tears.
He tried to hide it. “Sorry,” he said, taking his arm from around her and pushing his palms into his eyes.
“What is it?” said AJ, sitting up. His energy was ringing and cold, like metal on a freezing morning. He tensed as she rubbed his thigh.
“Agh,” he said, and forced a laugh, lowering his hands. “Nothing. This is just really perfect and…I don’t know. I’m going to get some water. I’ll get you some too, you should hydrate.”
He scooched Bud’s head off his knee and left the room. AJ sat stricken, bereft of his warmth. Bud curled up to her in solidarity.
Noah returned ten minutes later carrying two glasses.
“You okay?” asked AJ.
“Totally,” he said with ease.
AJ eyed him. He was playing a part right now, sealing himself off from her. But what was she supposed to do, force him to talk when he didn’t want to? Make him cry? Uneasily, she snuggled back into the crook of his arm and let the scene he’d initiated play out.
The next morning, AJawoke to the high-pitched buzzing of a screwdriver. She entered the kitchen to find the cupboards emptied onto the island, dishes and glasses stacked into a cityscape. Noah was in the process of detaching the cabinet doors from their hinges, a sledgehammer and demolition bar leaning apocalyptically nearby.
“Um, hi?” said AJ. Bud, who had been hiding under the counter, trotted toward AJ and nuzzled her shins as if to say,Help.
Noah pivoted, yellow cabinet door in hand. He raised his goggles. “Hi,” he said. There was sweat around the collar and armpits of his gray T-shirt. His eyes were bright.
“We’re redoing the kitchen,” he announced. His energy was a white wall.
“Since…when?” asked AJ tentatively.
Noah shrugged. “Last night.”
AJ nodded. She bit her lip. “Do you want to tal—”
“I figure I’ll just demo these cabinets,” he said, turning from her. “We don’t need them anymore.”
You are freaking out,AJ wanted to say. Instead, she surprised herself with, “Have you gotten a structural engineer in here?”
Noah lowered the screwdriver ten degrees in the air. He looked at her. “No. Why?”
Over the next ten minutes, AJ pulled out the worst renovation horror stories she had encountered in her four seasons atTurn It or ReturnIt.Had he heard of termites? Termites! Rotten joists. Faulty wiring. Old houses could get nasty. And had he ordered a dumpster?
“A job worth doing is worth doing well, right?” said AJ, reshelving a stack of dishes.
“Right,” said Noah. He shifted his weight. “So, I’ll call Davis. And order a dumpster.”
Slowly, he set down the screwdriver. The cabinet door remained detached.
AJ had hoped thattaking a beat would slow Noah’s roll on the kitchen. But he was back at it the next day, this time with Davis, his soft-spoken architect, whose judgment Noah seemed to trust implicitly, probably because Davis also dressed like a supervillain.
AJ stayed for the first quarter of their meeting and watched the two of them walk around together in matching charcoal outfits, muttering indecipherably and pointing.
