Page 79 of Intermission
“Should we go inside so I can meet your parents?”
“They went to Chicago and left Gretchen in charge.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows lift, and his lips round. “Oh.”
Noah flexes his fingers on the steering wheel. “Faith, I...” He drops his chin close to his chest and rests his right elbow on the armrest between us.
I reach for his hand. After a moment of hesitation, he gives my fingers a light squeeze.
“Okay, then.” He lifts his head and gives my fingers one more squeeze before letting them go to put the car in reverse. “Let’s go.”
Noah is quiet. Too quiet. As we near the Parre Hills gates to exit, I ask if he minds if I turn on the radio.
“Why? You hate music.”
His smile loosens a knot in my throat. I laugh and dial up the volume. It’s “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White T’s.
“Ugh.” He groans. “This song again?”
“How can you not like this song? I know it’s been around forever, but it’s such a catchy little tune.”
“I guess.” His forehead creases with... not exasperation exactly, but something close to it. “But it’s been playing all thetimethis week. No kidding. Like, every time I turn the radio on, there it is. It’s like the DJs dug it out of the vault and then decided to stick it back into the rotation every couple of hours or so, just to mess with me.”
I would laugh, but he actually sounds peeved. By a song. How weird is that? “You hate it that much?”
“No.” The frustration in his voice melts on the melody of a smile. “I like it a lot, actually. This song always makes me think of you.”
“Really?” My heart soars.
“Yeah.” Noah puts both hands on the wheel. “And what it’s going to be like after I leave.”
. . . and falls. “Oh.”
“No, don’t be sad. Listen to the words.” Noah starts to sing along with the chorus but then stops suddenly. “You know how I change the words of songs sometimes?”
“Mm-hmm. You’re a total hack.”
“Yes, I am.” He grins. “Well, for this one, I change the name from ‘Delilah’ to ‘Madeleine.’ And later in the bridge, when it talks about ‘a thousand miles’?”
I nod.
“I change it tofourthousand miles and, well...” He turns a warm, half-smile my way. “It’s you and me. Our story. Or it will be, in any case.”
Noah sings along with the next verse, improvising changes to the wording as the melody progresses.
It’s an upbeat, happy tune. I’ve sung along with it on the radio for years without really thinking about the words. But tonight, especially listening to Noah’s subtle lyric changes, the song almost breaks my heart.
Almost.
But sweetly.
As the tune reaches its final chorus, I add in the harmony. The lyrics of this song carry a promise, a promise that warms the ever-presentNoah-is-leavingshaped ache in my soul.
“Noah?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’ve officially foundour song.”
