Going Home
825 Words
Oliver glanced at Noah the moment he stepped through the hospital doors.
He pushed himself off the hood of the car.
"That was quick."
Noah managed a small smile.
"I've never liked hospitals."
Oliver searched his face.
"So?"
"So what?"
"What did she say?"
Noah opened the passenger door instead of answering.
"Let's get out of here."
Oliver sighed, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
Rain streaked across the windshield.
Finally, Oliver spoke.
"I'm not asking because I'm nosy."
"I know."
"I'm asking because you're my best friend."
Noah looked out the window.
"She wants me to start treatment."
Oliver frowned.
"And?"
"I told her I was leaving."
"You told her about the trip?"
"I did."
"What did she say?"
"She wasn't thrilled."
"I can imagine."
Another silence.
Oliver glanced at him.
"Did you get the results?"
Noah shook his head.
"No."
"You forgot them?"
"No."
"You... left them?"
"I did."
Oliver blinked.
"You left your medical results sitting on her desk?"
"They'll still be there when I come back."
"When you come back," Oliver repeated quietly.
Noah nodded.
Oliver tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"I don't understand you."
"I know."
"No, seriously." He laughed without humor. "You design buildings by calculating every possible outcome."
"I do."
"But when it comes to your own life..."
"I stopped calculating."
Oliver looked at him for a long second before returning his eyes to the road.
"You're scared."
Noah didn't answer.
"You know what?" Oliver continued. "Forget I asked."
Noah took a slow breath.
"I am."
Oliver looked at him again.
"I've never seen you afraid."
"I've never been."
The words hung heavily between them.
"I'm afraid that if I read those results..." Noah said quietly, "...I'll spend every day wondering how many I have left."
Oliver's expression softened.
"So you'd rather not know?"
"I'd rather live."
The answer stayed with Oliver long after the conversation ended.
They pulled up outside Noah's apartment building.
Oliver killed the engine but made no move to leave.
"When's your flight?"
"Tonight."
"I'll take you."
"You've done enough."
"I wasn't asking."
Noah laughed.
"I figured."
---
Inside the apartment, the silence greeted him one last time.
He stood in the middle of the living room.
Everything was exactly where he'd left it that morning.
The award from yesterday still sat unopened on the dining table.
His jacket hung over the chair.
Blueprints covered the coffee table.
His life.
Or at least the version of it he'd built.
He walked to the bedroom and pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe.
Oliver leaned against the doorframe, watching.
"You're only taking one?"
"I don't need much."
"You own three suits worth more than my car."
"They can stay."
"What about the award?"
"It'll still be there."
Oliver watched as Noah opened the wooden memory box.
He carefully placed the friendship bracelet inside the journal.
Then the dried maple leaf.
The faded festival ticket.
Finally...
The Polaroid.
Oliver smiled sadly.
"You've carried that thing everywhere."
"It weighs less than regret."
Oliver didn't know how to answer that.
After zipping the suitcase shut, Noah walked through every room.
The bedroom.
The study.
The balcony overlooking the London skyline.
He rested both hands on the railing.
Eight years.
"I really thought I'd stay forever."
Oliver joined him outside.
"You might."
Noah smiled.
"I don't think life listens to plans."
---
The airport buzzed with people rushing in every direction.
Families hugged goodbye.
Children pulled tiny suitcases behind them.
Announcements echoed overhead.
Oliver lifted Noah's suitcase from the trunk.
"This is you."
"I know."
Neither of them moved.
Finally Oliver stepped forward and hugged him.
It was quick.
Awkward.
Exactly the kind of hug two men who'd been friends for years would pretend didn't matter.
"Come back," Oliver said quietly.
"I'll try."
"No."
Oliver looked him straight in the eye.
"Promise me."
Noah hesitated.
"...I promise."
Oliver knew it wasn't a promise Noah could guarantee.
But it was enough.
For now.
Noah picked up his suitcase and walked toward the entrance.
Just before disappearing inside, he turned back.
Oliver lifted a hand.
"So long, genius."
Noah smiled.
"So long."
---
He found his gate nearly an hour before boarding.
For once...
He wasn't working.
He wasn't answering emails.
He wasn't looking at blueprints.
He simply sat.
Watching airplanes rise into the night sky.
His boarding pass rested between his fingers.
Destination: Home.
He looked down at it for a long time.
Then quietly whispered to himself,
"One last goodbye."
A moment later, the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal.
"Passengers travelling on Flight 217 to Toronto Pearson, we are now ready to begin boarding."
Noah stood.
Adjusted the strap on his suitcase.
Took one slow breath.
And walked toward the gate, unaware that the life he'd left behind was about to ask him one impossible question:
What if there was still enough time to love her?
- Writer
