I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling.
Part of me was angry.
Part of me was embarrassed.
Mostly, I was afraid that if I started talking about everything happening at home, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Noah noticed.
But he never interrogated me.
He never demanded that I tell him what was wrong.
He simply sat down beside me.
Some days he talked about baseball.
Some days he complained about homework.
Some days he said almost nothing.
He just stayed.
At the time, I didn’t understand how much those quiet lunches mattered.
Years later, I would.
The Person Who Always Showed Up
Noah had a talent for appearing during the moments when I felt most defeated.
When I failed my first driving test, I was humiliated.
Almost everyone I knew seemed to have passed immediately, and I had managed to make enough mistakes that even the examiner looked relieved when the test ended.
