Then he rose to his full height, fury enfolding him like a storm front.
“Get out.”
AJ reached for him. “You’re okay,” she said. “You’re okay, I’m here.” She held out her hands.
“I don’t want you here,” Noah said so ferociously AJ froze in place.
His lip twitched. He was still crying.
“What happened?” AJ asked quietly. She glanced at the toy on the floor.
Noah’s face contorted. He tried to take a breath, but the air wouldn’t go in. “I b-broke it,” he said, holding up his right palm and staring at it. He was trying desperately to get ahold of himself, his great shoulders heaving. Then he said, “I lost control of my hand.”
AJ felt a wave of panic that she instantly suppressed. “Has this happened before?”
Noah nodded tremulously. “Once,” he said. “About six months ago.”
AJ swallowed. “That could be anything,” she said calmly.
Noah glared at her with such contempt she flinched. Then he stepped out from behind his desk and walked to the French doors. He stared out across the lawn.
“I’ve taken this as far as I can.”
Now AJ couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?”
Noah continued to survey the yard. “I mean, I can’t sustain this. It’s time for you to leave.”
For a second, AJ thought she was going to be sick. “You’re upset,” she managed. “Let’s talk about this.”
Noah shook his head. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
AJ took a breath. “That’s not how this works,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even.
Noah shook his head again, more insistently this time. “You’re just going to tell me ‘It could be anything.’ It’s not anything—it’s fucking starting. And you don’t want to hear it.”
AJ gaped at him. “I do want to hear it,” she said. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, and all you want to talk about is the stupid kitchen.”
“Thatis how I deal with this,” roared Noah, rounding on her. “I’ve tried to include you and you just reject it.”
Anger broke over AJ. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to avoid opening up,” she snapped.
Noah’s eyes were rabid. “Well, I’m open now,” he said wrathfully, and he was. The connection between them had been switched on like a PSA alert, overriding every other signal.
AJ hadn’t seen Noah like this since the day before he had left thirteen years prior. Inside, he was turbulent, erupting, ash raining down afresh over every patch of progress they had made this summer. In the midst of it, a deep black abscess was consuming every feeling in its path.
“This is me,” he sobbed. “I’m a mess. Every time I spill milk or trip or can’t find a word, all I can think is,Is it now? Is it time?And being around you makes it infinitely worse. Everything we do, every stupid, boring, happy thing, just reminds me that none of this can last. I can’t look at you without hurting. And I’m exhausted. I’m sick of having to act like I’m not living in dread.”
His voice shook as he said, “It wasn’t like this before. I-I’m going back to the plan.”
And that’s when AJ understood. That black hole was a safety vacuum, Noah’s internal decontamination protocol. He was sealing himself off from her. The glass dome was starting to re-form—soon everything good and alive in him would be back inside it.
For a second, the room spun on its axis. Then it snapped back into place.
“No,” said AJ. “Sorry, but you don’t get to unilaterally destroy our happiness based on some plan you made up when you were a scared-shitless kid.”
Noah advanced on her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still scared shitless,” he growled. “And you would be too, if you took this at all seriously.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” said AJ, trying not to show her fright.
