Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter 28: Goodbye

I woke up to singing. The voice floated over my parted lips and entered me with desperation. It tore me from my dreams, only to drop me back in them, tugging me out just to push me back in. I found him between reality and a nightmare. His humming was a vibration of brutality. When I finally awoke, I was surprised I wasn't in pieces, laid out in his open arms.

My eyelids cracked open, and a soft orange light filled the living room. The bright white carpet was as gorgeous as the falling sunrise must have been right at that moment. Even then, I couldn't look away. I was too transfixed on the song I had never heard before.

Show me the sun, expose me to waves, breathe me an ocean

Far away, further, further, and further away

Our war is one we cannot begin—but this sun will lead me

Into the depths of you, into the depths of you

Until then, my dear, until then, I say—

Let these trees be my waves of blue

The comforter fell off of me as I shifted my feet off of the couch. I stood, and the singing stopped. Noah stood by the fire mantle. He held three purple flowers from the garden outside. Without acknowledging my existence, he laid the flowers next to the family portrait that had once been in his bedroom. It would stay on the mantle from now on.

His arms fell to his sides as he looked at the photograph. I imagined his family filling the room as he stared. Liam teased his siblings like any older sibling would do. Rinley would cry about being the youngest. Mrs. Tomery would comfort her with ice cream or music; perhaps she played the piano or the cello. Maybe one of the kids played the instruments. On rare occasions, they all sat around and played together, laughing and hugging and eating dinner. Rinley would be wearing that silly floppy hat. They would have stereotypical conversations about school and work, Mr. Tomery wouldn't mention tomo, and Noah would be prided over for his academic accomplishments.

My chest sank for them. Noah had to miss them, even when his father ordered him around. He had to remember a naïve moment he must have had at a younger age, probably when he had braces. He might've laughed more then. He was probably less defensive, more open to talking, a boy with a real life that had choices and possibilities, hopes and dreams. A boy, not the man he tried to be out of necessity.

His childhood was all gone now, disrupted by a war on drugs. He was gone.

"My mother planted those flowers ages ago," Noah said, turning away from the photo to look at me. "Periwinkles were her favorite. I was surprised they were still here."

"Your neighbors might have planted them." Maybe they were loyal after all.

"They must have kept the house in order," he agreed, "before the tunnels were closed."

"So they must've closed them recently," I said, trying to mask my groggy morning voice.

Noah nodded, either pretending not to notice or actually not noticing at all. He no longer looked at me, but his face was lit up in the morning light. For once, bags didn't hang from his eyes. He had slept.

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the painting. "I'm leaving this here."

"To let them know you were here?"