Teaching Noah | √

025

MY SUNDAY WAS well spent.

I loved spending time with Simon and his sons. With Simon, if he wasn’t making me talk to him about everything going on in my life, we were having funny discussions, playful arguments— like if pineapples deserved to be on pizza — laughing over memes and videos. With Drew and Luke, it was everything. Everything about being with kids as young as they were. Their cuteness, their curiosity to almost everything, their non-stop chattering and saying exactly what was on their mind each time they felt it needed to be said.

“Riley doesn’t shake anymore,” Luke had said, referring to my tics, and that caused me and Simon to erupt in laughter.

It was also the little frustration that came with trying to keep them from arguing. Overall, I loved the boys, and they gave me an idea of what it would be like to grow up with younger ones.

We visited an ice cream place which Luke and Drew loved to go to, and there, we had one of the best sundaes I had ever tasted. By the time Simon pulled up to the house, the boys ran out of the car to say hello to Mom, while me and Simon walked up slowly to the house. A pang of guilt tugged at my heart, knowing that I had broken my promise not to suppress my tics. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t bring myself to, not because he would be mad— no, Simon was too understanding— but because I was ashamed to tell him I broke my promise for a kiss. A kiss I’d wanted so badly. So, I managed to put the feeling of guilt aside.

“Jesus, Othello is so stupid, I cannot deal right now,” I closed the revised edition of the William Shakespeare’s literature, and rubbed my eyes in frustration.

Noah looked at me with a smirk on his face, “I take it that you’ve gotten to the best part of the book?”

“He claimed to have loved Desdemona so much, yet he just ran with the crap Iago said about her cheating,” I rolled my eyes.

“Do you think he loved her?”

“Love?” I scoffed. “Of course, he didn’t love her. Trust is a huge part of love. He didn’t love her if he couldn’t even trust her.”

“Then, it’s complicated,” Noah retorted.

“There’s nothing complicated about trust. You either trust a person or you don’t.”

“To be fair, Othello gave her the benefit of the doubt.”

I looked at Noah in disbelief, “Asking or seeking for proof isn’t exactly the same thing as giving a person the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t even talk to her about it. Plus, Iago… Iago was a sneaky bastard.”

“But Othello doesn’t know that. You only know that because you read it. That’s what you call dramatic irony.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when the readers know something but the characters in the books are unaware of whatever it is,” he explained.

“I think Othello had an idea of the kind of person Iago was. If—” I stopped myself. “You know what?  I think this is what Shakespeare wanted. An argument. And I’m not going to give that to him,” I took a deep breath, “Fact remains, Othello didn’t trust Desdemona, therefore, the love he claimed to have for her is questioned.”

Noah looked amused, “You’re something else,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he took off his glasses and placed it on the table.

“No, you’re something else, Noah. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask—” I picked up his glasses, “How bad is your eyesight?” I moved closer to him and raised up two fingers in front of him, “How many fingers am I holding up?”