Chapter 13

Leah

            The phone call from Lyle was a little unexpected.  That was all it took to pull me out of the moment with Noah and right back into my own personal hell.  Seems I might have accidently packed something of Lyles in my stuff.  I hate that he made it sound like I did it on purpose.  Our belongings were so mingled together before I moved that I could easily mix them together without realizing the importance of a single item.  He wants his father’s pocketknife and believes it might be in the small wooden box I used to keep at my bedside.

            It’s not that he was unkind, but if he had been this whole situation would be easier.  I think I am secretly hoping he becomes some mean monster that I will want to push out of my life instead of the same guy I fell in love with who one day fell out of love with me.  I promised him I would look for it when the workers are finished in my apartment and he agreed to make the drive here to get it. 

            Talking to Lyle isn’t any less painful, but just as Noah had predicted, there are more spaces in my life that aren’t filled with him like they were before I moved.  This afternoon I met up with a friend for some coffee, stopped by the bookstore to buy the latest title from my favorite author, and found myself excited to come back here to Noah.  Thoughts of Lyle have slipped into my mind here and there, but I have managed to almost put one more day behind me. 

            As I open the door to leave Noah’s room, I hear the soft sound of music playing from the kitchen.  I follow the melody and find Noah stirring something on the stovetop while drinking a glass of wine.  I notice the empty glass beside him next to the bottle and feel a bit relieved that I’m not alone right now.  Noah turns his head and smiles that killer smile at me as I move in next to him.  I lean back on the counter as he pours me a glass and hands it to me. 

            “You ok?” he asks and I know that he genuinely cares. 

            “For now,” I answer and take a long sip of the cool wine.  Noah nods his head and returns his attention to the butter and mushrooms he is sautéing in the pan in front of him. 

            “Need to talk about it?”

            I have never had a friend that was a therapist before and I’m not sure how it changes things.  I hesitate for a minute, trying to decide what I should discuss with him and what would be better kept to myself.  He has to be tired of hearing other peoples’ problems all day.  His eyes look into mine again and I see compassion and empathy.  “I’m a good listener.”

            I smile at him and take another sip.  “Would it be terrible if I didn’t want to talk about it?  I feel like I could analyze him all day and still not understand where he is coming from.” I watch as he thinks about what I’ve just said.  When his crooked smile returns it causes my stomach to do a little flip. 

            “Actually, I think that might be for the best.  I’m here to listen any time, but I hate that he gets so many of your daily thoughts.”  He turns the fire down to low and grabs the tongs so he can flip the chicken.  It smells wonderful. 

            “Where did you learn to cook?”  I put down my wine so I can hop up onto the counter.  I am really appreciating the show as he cooks with one hand and holds his wine in the other.   I have never had a man cook for me before.

            “My mother is an excellent cook.  She taught me a few dishes and the rest I have perfected on my own.”  He sounds confident and I begin to notice all the differences between Lyle and Noah.  Lyle is horribly insecure but tries to make up for it with put downs and big shows of how great he is.  Noah is confident in himself and can be at peace with not being commended for his work.  It’s funny that I never noticed how hard it was to help build confidence in someone all the time, but sitting here with Noah I can clearly feel that there is a weight off my shoulders and I can just relax and enjoy the conversation and wine. 

            “So tell me a little more about your study.  How many couples have you worked with?” 

            “I have worked with about a hundred myself, and the other therapist have done the same.  All the work is complete; I just need to code about twenty more videos.  As long as we can show that there’s consistency between the people coding the videos, we should be able to move on to computing the data.”  He grabs two plates from the cupboard and turns the fire off below the chicken. 

            “What will other psychologist do with the data?”  I watch him serve my plate and turn the fire off below the mushrooms.

            “It depends on the results.  Right now it looks like my hypothesis is correct.  If the numbers back me up, and I am pretty confident they will, I suppose future clinicians will stress touch in relationships.”  He smiles as he lifts the plates from the counter and puts them on the small table in the kitchen.  I grab the bottle of wine and his empty glass and make my way over to the delicious smelling food. 

            We both sit down and I pour him another glass.  “What will YOU do with he results?”  He brings his wine up to his mouth and takes a small sip.  I have no idea how he can study couples all day and not have some faith that relationships can work. 

            “I will know that I have been right.  It will be the validation I’ve been looking for since I first came to the conclusion years ago.  To keep a relationship alive you have to keep touching.  If you’re hoping that I’ll say I’m going to be a changed man and run out and start dating to find my happy ever after, you’re going to be disappointed.”  He takes a bite of the food and I lift my fork to my mouth.

            “I wouldn’t expect you to run out right away, but maybe be open to the idea that two people could work hard and hold the key to keeping the relationship intimate and connected.”  When I put the fork in my mouth the flavor explodes across my tongue.  It’s fantastic. 

            “Maybe I don’t want to work hard.”  He cuts another bite of food and fills his mouth.  When he finishes the bite he continues, “I want a partner that will share the fight with me.  I need to know that on the days I’m having a tough time giving the relationship my all, she will be there to make up the difference.  I would do the same for her.  What I’ve found instead is that my tough days get even harder when the woman gets resentful or contemptuous.  It turns into a tit for tat relationship and before you know it we’re both keeping score.”

            I lean back in my chair and take another sip of my wine.  As I set my empty glass down on the table, Noah fills it up again.  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.”  I hate that what he has said perfectly describes the death of my relationship with Lyle. 

            He sips his wine and leans back in his chair.  “That’s just it.  It doesn’t have to be that way.  That’s the part that sucks.  In the moment it is happening you can’t see what you’re doing.  Before you know it the damage has been done.  No one goes into a relationship thinking they’re going to break-up.” I hardly notice I have finished my glass again, but Noah stands and retrieves a new bottle calling my attention to my empty glass.

            “Noah, I’m sure you are an excellent therapist, but your personal conversations are depressing as hell.”  His laughter is music to my ears as he pops the cork and pours me another glass.  We finish our dinner with small talk about the university and how we spent our day.  His phone rings as we clear the table and I watch him silence the call and shut down his phone.  He doesn’t ask me to, but I do the same with mine.  It feels both terrifying and liberating. 

            When dinner is cleaned up we make our way back to the living room and decide it’s time to get serious about coding.  Noah sets up the video so that I can see the couple on the couch and then pauses it to give me the instructions.  “We are keeping track of how the partners respond to each other’s pain.  If there is a moment when one shares something painful and the partner responds with touch, we note it.  We also need to keep track of touch in general.  If they walk in holding hands or let their legs brush up against each other we need to mark the time in the video it happens.”

            Noah pulls out a sheet of paper that has three columns.  The first is Time, the second is Touch and the third is Statement.  He tells me to note the time in the video, write a quick note to describe the touch and lastly, if something painful was shared to note exactly what was said.  “I am keeping track of that data for future research.  If I see any trends it might be interesting to study what type of shared information elicits the greatest physical contact.” 

            “I think I’ve got it.”  I reach for the paper and he hands me the remote as well.

            “You might need to stop it or rewind it so you can get the wording correctly.  I will code along with you and see if we mark the same.”  He leans forward on the couch and grabs himself a coding sheet and pen from the table.   He’s in his element now and I am very impressed with his professionalism.  As he adjusts his position so I can’t see his paper, I watch him shamelessly.  I want to know everything about this man and his history.  When he feels my gaze on him he turns his head in my direction and warms my heart with his crooked smile.

            I don’t pull my eyes away like I know I should.  He’s not interested in getting to know me or building anything more than a friendship and I allow myself to wonder if I will be ok with that in the end.  Since meeting Lyle, there hasn’t been a man that has made me feel like I could fall in love with anyone else, but Noah has changed that.  His honesty and compassion have opened my heart and I know in this moment that falling in love is not something any of us have control over.   I smile back at him as I realize that Noah can’t control it either.  One day he’s going to fall for someone and his heart will be healed.  I just hope we’re still friends when it happens so I can happily tell him I told him so. 

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