Page 33 of When We Were Young
He didn’t hear the sounds of the kids, either. A quick look at his nightstand and the pieces came together. His alarm clock read eight o’clock. Which meant he hadn’t set it because he didn’t work today. It was Saturday. Of course. Emily and the kids were at the park with the moms’ group from church. Once a month.
Today was that day.
He rubbed his head again and worked his fingers into the back of his neck. Good thing he didn’t have to work until Monday. It would take most of the weekend for his headache to wear off. Advil would help—though he had to be careful with that, too. His kidneys couldn’t take much more painkiller. Not even ibuprofen.
His lungs were still working double time.Exhale, Noah. Come on. Help me exhale, God. Please. He forced his body to relax. What was the verse? Philippians 4:6–7.Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Yes, that was it. He let the words run over in his mind a few more times. With each repetition he felt his body relax a little more until finally his breathing was almost normal. He looked from side to side, stretching his neck until he could feel some of the tension waning.
A few deep breaths and Noah felt a little better. Time to get up and change the lightbulbs in the hallway. Emily had been asking him to do that for two weeks. He needed to check it off the list. He yawned and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
As soon as his feet hit the ground a lightning bolt of alarm shot through his body. What was this feeling? Scratchy fibers? He lifted one foot, then the other. Then he stared at the floor. What he saw made the room start to spin.
Carpet? What in the world?
This wasn’t his bedroom. It couldn’t be. He and Emily had wood floors in their room. Not this... this cheap worn-gray shag carpet. Noah began to shake again, his shoulders and arms and face trembling. The bed they shared sat on a dark wood floor with wide planks. They were a gift. One from Noah to Emily on their first anniversary. All new hardwood throughout the house. They could afford it because their social media platform was taking off. Emily had loved those floors. She talked about them all the time.
So where were they?
He braced himself on the wall and closed his eyes. What was happening? Where was he? He blinked his eyes open again and walked to the bedroom window. The trees and the front yard, they were gone, too. Instead there was a parking lot and a series of apartment buildings.
Had he fallen asleep at someone’s house? Was his headache so bad that he hadn’t made it home? Was he forgetting things? The pounding was still there, as strong as it had been yesterday. He pressed his thumbs and forefingers into his eyebrows and willed the pain away.Please, God, make it go away. I have to get home.
This definitely wasn’t his house. He took in the details of the room. He was fully awake now, so he could see more clearly. Everything was wrong. This bedroom was much smaller than the one he shared with Emily. Small nightstand, pressed-wood dresser. Clothes in a heap on the floor.
Clothes on the floor? Noah squinted at the pile and with slow shaky steps he moved toward it. He picked up a pair of jeans and then another. And another. Then he dropped them like they were burning his fingers. Every shirt, every pair of pants and socks were his.
All of them.
A sick feeling started in his gut. Why were so many of his clothes here, in the house of a stranger? He swallowed hard. Full-blown panic was closing in on him. He walked toward the door. “Hello?” His voice trembled. “Is... is anyone here?”
Before his hand could touch the doorknob, he noticed something that caught his breath. A framed photo on the wall. Noah stared at the images. Two children. A boy and a girl. Maybe seven and five years old. Noah heard his teeth begin to chatter. At the same time chills ran down his arms and legs.
Who were these children? He didn’t know them, but they had an uncanny resemblance to Aiden and Olivia. A foot away was another framed photo. Noah moved closer and studied it. As he did, he felt his breathing grow steady again.
Finally. Something he recognized. The picture was of the four of them. Emily and him, Aiden and Olivia. A professional portrait they’d had taken a few months ago. Noah touched the faces beneath the glass. Sweet Emily, her blue eyes full of love and hope. He ran his finger over Aiden’s face next. The mouth and chin so like Noah’s. His little-boy confidence that with Mommy and Daddy holding him, all things were good and wonderful.
Noah smiled. Then there was Livi. He ran his thumb over her pretty face. She was still a baby, still happiest when she was cuddling with Emily and him. But every day she was becoming more independent. Olivia had Emily’s eyes, but somehow she looked more like Clara. Like Clara would’ve looked if she hadn’t been born with cerebral palsy.
He was still smiling at the photo when another shock ran through him.
Why would these pictures be hanging on the wall of someone else’s room? Noah took a few steps back, his heart pounding again. Where was he? Had he been sick? Had his parents flown home from England? Was he at the house of some other family friend?
None of it made sense. He slid into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. With shaky steps he moved to the bathroom, but nothing about it looked even a little familiar. He looked in the mirror. Again he took a step back. What was this? He looked terrible. Lines at the corners of his eyes and a week of stubble on his face. A shudder came over him. “Come on, Noah. Get it together.” How sick had he been?
He found a washcloth on the towel rack and doused it in cold water. Then he pressed it to his face and worked it around the edges of his eyes. Even then his head hurt. Every movement made it worse.
With the cloth against his face, Noah took another deep breath. Was this because of his concussions? It had to be. Whatever it was, there had to be an explanation. He must be at the house of a close friend, someone they knew very well. Well enough that they would have photos of him and his family. Yes, that had to be it.
Noah steadied himself. He would figure things out as soon as he got into the main room. After that maybe he should see a doctor. His headaches had never been this bad. He dried his face and fixed his hair. Was it his imagination, or was the color darker than before? Probably just the usual for late fall. His hair was blondest during summer.
He found a pair of socks and shoes near the bed and slipped them on.
Okay. He stood and breathed deep again. Time to figure this out. He left the room and walked down the hall like someone with a purpose. First things first. He needed to know where he was. The main room didn’t look familiar, either. Outside. He gritted his teeth.I need to get outside.Yes, that was it. A quick few minutes outside and he should recognize the neighborhood. That would help.
The front door was bolted shut. Whoever’s house he was at, they were concerned for their safety. Couldn’t be anyone in the Clear Creek neighborhood where they lived. No one locked their doors there. At least not that he knew about.
He undid the latch and stepped onto the stoop. Immediately he was staring at the door of another dwelling. Just ten feet away. And it hit him then. He wasn’t in a house. This was an apartment, which was why he could only see other similar buildings from the bedroom window. He was in a big complex, and the unit he was in was just part of the development.
