Page 81 of Intermission
“I can be brave, and I can be good. But I’m not bravely good, you know? At least not consistently, like you.”
“Faith, I’m not—”
“Youare. But just hear me out, okay? The thought of being with you makes me want to be brave, to stand against my parents and their prejudice. I want to prove how wrong they are about you. And about me, too.” My hands fist, my fingernails digging into the soft flesh of my palm. “But I don’t know how to do it, because when it comes to being good—at least my parents’ definition of the word—I’m hopeless.”
“You’re not hopeless. And you’re being much too easy on me.”
“There you are again, being good.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “But regardless of how we got to be together tonight, if this is being bad or disobedient or rebellious or whatever... it seems pretty justifiable to me.”
I take a breath. “My mom’s behavior toward you isn’t remotely justifiable. I can’t even—I mean, it’s not like we’re drinking or doing drugs or having sex—which, by the way, is what she’sreallyworried about. When we’re together, we talk about music and theatre and—andGod, of all things! You’re my best friend and... and a mentor, even, in a lot of ways. You get me like no one else ever has. Like they never will. OfcourseI want to spend time with you! Why can’t shesee that? Why are we the ones who are wrong, when our only offense is wanting to see each other?”
Noah envelopes my hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb across the skin between my thumb and forefinger. “It’s not what we’re doing or not doing,” he says finally. “It’showwe’re not doing it. According to your parents, I’m not welcome at your house or in your life. You’re not supposed to be dating me, but here we are. On a date.”
Noah puts his hand on my chin and turns my face. “No matter what Gretchen says you can do tonight, we’re doing exactly what your parents said wecan’t.”
A curl blows across my face. Noah tucks it behind my ear. “Yes, your mom and dad left Gretchen in charge, and Gretchen gave you permission to go out with me. But—and I’m just guessing here—I assume neither one of you is going to tell your parents about tonight, are you?”
A fast breath, just shy of a snort, expels from my nose. “Not likely.”
“I didn’t think so.” Noah’s smile is warm, but sad, too. And something about it sets off warning bells of panic in my brain.
“There are words I haven’t said to you because I’ve always considered them sacred. And this is probably the worst possible moment to let them loose, but the thing is...” He swallows. “I love you, Madeleine Faith. I’ve never said that to a girl before, not romantically. And I never wanted to, until you.”
My breath catches as much on the tears shining in his eyes as the words.
“I love you, too.”
“I know you do. Even without the words, I think we’ve both known it for a while.”
I nod. But the words are awfully nice to hear. And say.
“And that’s why this is so difficult.”
My breath freezes on the slap of conclusion that punctuates that statement, even though he’s still speaking.
“Love is brave, Faith, but it rejoices in the truth. And what we’re doing, regardless of how we rationalize it, is dishonest.”
“I know.” I swallow around the cold-spiked lump in my throat. Meeting like this is the same as lying. And lying, even by skirtingaround the truth, is wrong. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. My lie. And I dragged you into it tonight. I’m sorry.”
My apology, my regret at causing his discomfort, is sincere. But inside, I squirm around the argument that pits my heart against my spirit. “But my parents are passing judgment on you, Noah! That’s wrong, too, isn’t it? They don’t evenknowyou. They won’t even give you achance.”
“You’re right.” Noah looks out across the night-blackened water. “That’s where I get conflicted, too.”
He lets go of my hand, stands, and sticks both hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “I’m not used to being cast as the villain, but ever since your mother slammed that door in my face and then grounded you because of it, well, it feels like I’m the bad guy.” He rocks back on his heels. “But I feel like I’m a victim, too. And I hate that feeling even more.”
“I’m sorry.” How many times will I say that tonight? And every time, it’s truer than the time before. “You don’t deserve this.”
“It’s not your fault.” Noah sits back down on the bench. “It’s a moral dilemma and a spiritual dilemma, and I don’t know the right answer. Sometimes I’m not even sure what the question is.” His next sound is more of a growl. “Why would God bring us together—and, just so we’re clear, Idobelieve he brought us together—and then let your parents rip us apart based on... well,nothing? Nothing that can be substantiated by fact, anyway. I’ve prayed and prayed. I’ve sought wise counsel. I want...”
Noah trails off with a sigh.
“Maybe that’s the whole issue,” he says, finally. “Maybe I’m blinded from the right answer by what I want.”
“I’ve been praying, too. I’ve been scouring my little pink Bible every night.” I bite my lip. “This is going to sound weird, okay? But every time I go to God, looking for answers, I feel this... this expectation. It’s almost like God is telling me to just hold on. Like, everything is going to be okay... but not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Maybe I’m reading into it. I don’t know. It’s just a... a feeling. I know I haven’t been reading the Bible or praying, not seriously at least, as long as you have, but I don’t know how else to describe it. Ijust feel like God is saying, ‘hold on.’ But I’m not even sure what that means. It could go either way.”
