« How do you know? »
« Because something happened that year. »
« Noah told me. »
I stared at her.
» What? «
Her eyes looked up at mine.
« He found me one afternoon. »
» Or? «
« In the school parking lot. »
Something about her expression made the room suddenly seem smaller.
« He caught me crying in the car, » admitted mom.
I sat down next to her.
» Mom… «
« He found me one afternoon. »
« I thought no one had seen me. » She rubbed her palms together. « But Noah did. »
Downstairs, I faintly heard Noah laughing at something my aunt had said.
Mom heard it too.
Her face crumpled for half a second before she regained control.
« What did he tell you? » I urged.
« I thought no one had seen me. »
She looked at me.
« He asked me if you were broken. »
My breath caught in my throat. « Why? »
« Because you weren’t eating, darling. You weren’t laughing. He said you sometimes sat alone. »
I looked towards the door.
I had forgotten most of those lunches.
Apparently, Noah hadn’t done it.
« What did you tell him? »
« He asked me if you were broken. »
« I told him you weren’t broken. » Mom swallowed. « Then he said something I’ve remembered for six years. »
» What? «
Her fingers closed around mine.
A tear slid down her cheek.
« He said, ‘Good. Because I don’t know how to fix people. I only know how to stay.’ »
I couldn’t speak.
« I don’t know how to fix people. I only know how to stay. »
Mom squeezed my hands.
« For six years, Noah has kept a promise to me that you didn’t even know existed. »
My heart started beating.
« What promise? »
Whatever happened next, it was the truth she had dragged me upstairs to hear.
And suddenly, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
Whatever came next was the truth she’d dragged me upstairs to hear.
Mom’s voice cracked.
“I asked Noah to promise he’d look after you. »
I stared at her.
« You… what? »
“I was falling apart, Chrissy. Your father had left, you barely spoke to me, and Noah was the only person who seemed able to reach you. »
I froze.
“I asked Noah to promise he’d look after you. »
Mom wiped her cheek.
« He said, ‘Okay.’ Just like that. »
Downstairs, Noah laughed again.
Mom looked towards the door.
“And then I did something I’m ashamed of. »
« What? »
“For six years, I worried you were sacrificing too much for him,” she admitted.
I went still.
“I did something I’m ashamed of. »
« Every time you waited for Noah, defended him, changed your plans because he wasn’t invited, I wondered if you felt responsible for him. »
» Mom… «
« I kept measuring your friendship by what Noah might need from you. » Her mouth trembled. « I never bothered to measure it by what he gives. »
Suddenly, I saw six years differently.
« I kept measuring your friendship against what Noah might need from you. »
Ice cream after my driving test.
That stupid dinosaur in its locker.
Lunches when I couldn’t speak.
A porch when my heart was broken.
Noah didn’t need me to carry him.
We simply continued to be there for each other.
« So, how are you feeling? » I whispered.
Noah didn’t need me to carry him.
Mom smiled through her tears.
« Don’t go tonight because six-year-old Chrissy promised him you wouldn’t. » She shook my hand. « Promise me you’ll go because eighteen-year-old Christina chose him. »
I laughed.
« Mom, I wasn’t going because of the promise. »
« I know that now. »
« The promise is just the reason why Noah bought a bow tie four months earlier, » I said.
« Promise me you’ll go because Christina, 18, chose you. »
That finally made him laugh.
We went downstairs.
Noah looked between us.
« You took a long time. »
Mom walked straight towards him.
« Noah, may I have the first dance? »
Her eyebrows suddenly rose.
« Mrs. Jane, this isn’t the prom. »
I burst out laughing.
Mom put on some music anyway.
« Noah, may I have the first dance? »
For an awkward 30 seconds, Noah counted the steps while mom repeated the steps in the wrong direction.
Finally, he sighed.
« Ms. Jane, Chrissy dances better. »
« That’s why she’s your date. » Mom’s voice softened. « Thank you for staying. »
Noah frowned as if she had thanked him for breathing.
« She’s staying too. »
« Thank you for staying. »
Mother closed her eyes.
This was the answer she had needed for years.
***
At the prom, when the first slow song began, Noah reached out his hand.
« Chrissy… You owe me something. »
« Twelve years old? »
» Yes. «
He stepped on my shoe in five seconds.
« You’re terrible at that. »
« Your dress is poorly designed. »
« Chrissy… You owe me something. »
We laughed until people started looking at us.
Nothing extraordinary happened.
No one applauded us.
We were simply two 18-year-olds who danced badly together.
***
Then, Mom waited outside.
Noah wore my heels because my feet hurt.
I wore his jacket because he was hot.
He opened my car door.
We were simply two 18-year-olds who danced badly together.
I got inside, leaned over the seat and opened his.
Mom was looking at us in the mirror.
For years, she had seen me with Noah and thought that one of us was taking care of the other.
She finally understood.
Nobody was saving anybody.
No one was fulfilling an obligation.
Nobody was saving anybody.
We were just two people who, at the age of six, had understood something that adults sometimes spend their whole lives learning.
When someone matters to you, you stay.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they stay too.
When someone matters to you, you stay.