Page 34 of The Caretaker
“I like never better,” he said. Despite his words, his tone was now absent of lust and innuendo, making his statement sound friendly instead of suggestive. The shift saddened me, and for the first time, I found myself mourning something other than my wife. I faced him, putting my back to the flames.
“I want you here,” he said. “I want to get to know you more. And you don’t need to hold back, Noon.”
While that last part could have been misconstrued, his soft, reassuring smile said he’d simply wanted me to know I could speak my mind, that I could be honest about wanting to stick around a while longer. But the long column of his neck begged for the forceful grip of my hand, and his hair pleaded for my fist to take hold of it. I wanted to touch him. Wanted to do thingsto him that I hadn’t thought about doing to anyone else. Not even my dead wife. Living in the moment and choosing the right moment were not the same things, though. And this wasn’t the right moment. Might never be.
“Okay,” I said with effort.
“Now, how about we get things going with the s’mores, beers, wine, and talking? We’ve got a long week of doing nothing ahead of us.”
“Sounds perfect,” I said. “And being here with you isn’t nothing.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking, as planned. I learned about Solace’s childhood, about his summers spent in Haley Cove, and his years working as a teacher.
I mostly listened because I didn’t have much to share. Or could it have been that I believed what Stacey and I had was too sacred to share? An even scarier thought was that maybe being here, being in this moment, was the sacred thing, and that I didn’t want the memory of someone else to intrude upon it. A sickening feeling came with that potential truth, but in spite of it, I decided to use our talk as part of my starting point for building new memories.
I showed him my scars from the accident, and walked him through my physical recovery and my depression soon after. I redirected the conversation whenever a topic called for me to mention my wife. I realized that talking and thinking about her triggered my episodes of panic, and while I knew I needed to delve into that more, this wasn’t the time.
We spent the next week going over staging for the photo shoot, ordering the proper lighting, and handing out adjectives. I’d learned that I was charming, honest, and blunt when at ease. I liked seeing myself through Solace’s eyes. It made me feel like I still had so much to give, even if a good portion of what I’d had was missing.
We lived in the moment, every moment, and Solace wasn’t afraid to do or say what was needed to reel me back in whenever I strayed too far from the here and now.
We watched TV, took daily walks to the clearing together, and spent every night on the couch, sleeping while nestled close together. We didn’t overthink it, didn’t overcomplicate it with questions and explanations as to why we needed it. We simply went with what felt good, with what felt right without crossingthatline.
By the end of week two I was a firm believer that life was better when living it second by second, even if it was becoming harder to find and feel Stacey as the days went by. I had to believe she would’ve wanted this for me. Would’ve wanted me to move on.
Solace
Then
NOON SCREECHED TOa stop at the top of the driveway. He slammed the truck door shut, then hurried toward me with his duffel bag. After weeks of rotating between his suit and a few of my baggier items, he’d finally gone home to pick up some things.
A part of me worried he wouldn’t return, so I’d kept myself busy to avoid dwelling on that possibility. And also to avoid admitting to myself that wanting him to come back was no longer about me not wanting to be alone.
I’d used the time to run errands, and to open the email containing my test results. Like Noon, I was fine, and with that behind me, I had one less thing to worry about. It also meant I had one less thing holding me back from the bad idea I’d been increasingly contemplating the more time I spent with Noon.
“How many traffic laws did you break to get back here before sunset?” I asked from the porch.
“Too many to count,” he said, dropping one of his now infamous forehead kisses on me. He’d said they made everything better. I had to agree because whenever his lips touched my skin, my problems faded into the background. My heart and mind soaked up his affection, affection that seemed to have ramped up in its frequency ever since we danced to Gavin’s favorite song by the fire pit weeks ago. Other parts of me began to crave his attention as well.
Noon no longer felt the need to hold back, it seemed. If it were anyone else it would have come off as inappropriate, or a means to a sexual end. He wasn’t the type to be guided by ulterior motives, though, and he didn’t have a bad-intentioned bone in his body. Noon was honest, blunt even, and I’d have wagered that everyone in his life had experience with his overwhelming need to provide care and show love. I was short of both, so he’d never get any complaints from me about it.
Still, good intentions and all, I didn’t miss the way he looked at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice. Longing stares captured through the reflection of a window or glass door when my back was turned.
His doting, by nature, made it tough to discern what was real and what was a figment of my imagination, though, and I wasn’t forward enough to ask. Wouldn’t dare. Shouldn’t even be considering it. We were both going through a lot, after all, and while it felt like I’d known him forever, in reality it had only been a short, trauma-filled time.
“I’ll take a quick shower and then we can go,” he said, entering the house and holding up the camera that dangled around his neck. That camera was now a permanent fixture at his side, and every evening he’d drag me to some park, or cliffside, or bridge to take photos of the sunset. He’d tried to drag me out at dawn, even promising me one of his delicious omelets—which I now scarfed down without having to be bribed to—but I’d returned to my normal sleeping patterns, and so getting up that early was out of the question.
I’d wake up to find his spot cold, and as a consolation for him being gone, he’d leave behind a Polaroid selfie of him holding me while I slept on his chest. He dated and time-stamped them all, down to the seconds. His way of letting me know he’d stayed with me, held me as long as he could before leaving to chase the sunrise. I saved every one of them.
“Why didn’t you save time by showering at home?” I asked, removing my coat since we weren’t leaving that second.
“I couldn’t. I got in and out of there as fast as I could.”
I nodded, making a mental note to be the one who held him tonight, the one giving instead of taking. He made it so damn easy to be selfish because he had an endless supply of everything good to give, but thanks to him, now so did I.
“And can Ipleaseburn that suit when we get back?”
“It’s yours to do whatever you want with,” he said, chuckling as he jogged up the stairs.
