Beyond the Sea

“You’re lucky it’s me and not my sister. If you’d spoken to Vee like that she’d have gutted you like a fish,” Noah said as he stood in my doorway.

“Leave me alone. Please,” I begged, sinking back under the duvet.

Noah cocked a curious eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick, but I’m not well.”

A flicker of humour flashed in his eyes. “Were you even born when that song was out?”

“No. Now get out of my room please.”

“Technically, it was my room first.”

I frowned at him, my brain not computing. “This used to be your room?”

Noah nodded and stepped inside, his eyes taking in the space. He approached the shelf that lined the back wall containing my books and seashell collection. He picked up a book and studied the front cover.

“The Bible?” he asked, arching a curious eyebrow.

My shoulders straightened defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with owning a Bible.”

“I never said there was. Have you read this?”

“Yes. My dad thought it was important. He was very spiritual and religious. I am, too,” I said before immediately regretting it. I didn’t want to sound all high and mighty. I had a deep revulsion for those who preached their faith like everyone should have the same beliefs as they did. Believing in God didn’t make me perfect or pure. I was still intrinsically flawed, still swore when I got angry, still had unkind thoughts about people I didn’t like, still … touched myself in the dark when I was feeling particularly lonely.

“Your dad was religious? And he married my sister? Go figure,” Noah said, wryly amused.

“Loneliness can make people do all kinds of silly things.”

Noah slotted the Bible back on the shelf. “You should try talking to Vee the way you talk to me. I think it would make for a refreshing change.”

I snorted. “I’d like my head to stay on my shoulders, thanks.”

He moved toward the bed, and I stiffened. I wore only a T-shirt with no bra and sleep shorts. Having Noah in my space didn’t precisely make me feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t make me feel very comfortable either. Actually, it made me feel oddly alive, which I couldn’t deny was a positive change from my previous state of emptiness.

“How was this your bedroom? Why didn’t you sleep upstairs in one of the bigger rooms?” I asked.

Noah lifted a shoulder. “Punishment, I suppose.”

“What did you do to deserve a punishment like that?”

He didn’t answer, instead he dropped down onto the bed beside me, and I tensed. “Tell me why you’re not feeling well.”

I blinked to keep from crying. Aside from Aoife, few people ever asked me how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure of Noah’s intentions, but my need to vent overrode it. “I miss my dad.”

“I see.”

A tear trickled down my cheek, and Noah watched its descent as though he found my emotion fascinating. “I miss him so much it’s almost like a physical pain,” I went on. “I feel so alone without him.”

I glanced down. Noah’s hand flexed as though he wanted to reach out and place it over mine in comfort but was trying not to. I wondered at that, and a part of me wished he’d give in to the impulse. A little bit of human touch would be nice with how I was feeling this morning.

“Tell me your favourite story from the Bible,” he said then.

I frowned at him, sitting up a little as I sniffled. “Why?”

“Because I used to think I was the only person in the world my age who was still interested in religion. Technology is the new God.”

My eyes widened. “You’re religious?”

“I used to be. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Oh,” I said, sniffling. “Well, you’re right. Technology is a new religion, but not for me. When you’re alone in the world, having something to believe in is often the only thing to get you through.” I paused a moment, self-conscious about how I’d spoken so openly. He had a way of bringing things out of me. “Besides,” I went on, “even if technology was my thing, your sister doesn’t believe in bringing this place into the twenty-first century and hooking it up with wi-fi. Aside from the old TV and DVD player, this house is stuck in a time warp. Vee seems to prefer it that way.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Because she’d rather cut off her own hand than do something kind for me.”

“Or maybe she’s in her own prison, too lost behind steel bars to see or care for the suffering of others,” Noah suggested.

“If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for your sister, you’re wasting your time,” I said defensively, although my soft heart wondered at his comment. Was Vee suffering? Was that why she was so cold? A long moment of silence passed. I wished for him to leave, but he remained sitting there, staring at me and not moving a muscle.