Husbands But Not

38: Soul Points

Noah

"God, I missed you so much." I said. It felt like every unspoken word was pouring out of my heart and through my lips.

"I missed you too." He spoke rigidly. It didn't feel right. This wasn't him. Despite all he'd been through, he had more confidence than I could ever assemble in my lifetime. Could he have changed this much in just a few days?

He went silent. It felt too silent because I knew he was there. He took a breath, followed by a crack, and then I knew it was coming. "So much, Noah. I missed you so much. It's the fact that knowing you're out of my reach makes everything feel a little too cold and slightly lonelier than it should."

His voice made me want to sob, too. But I couldn't. I needed to be strong when he wasn't. He was leaning on me through his soul, and I needed to be sturdy as a rock.

"I tried distracting myself and it worked. I didn't think about you and I'm sorry. I thought if I tried to pretend you didn't exist, it wouldn't hurt. But I don't know which hurt more, pretending you don't exist, or pretending you're not mine. You're mine, Noah Grayson, you hear that?"

"I'm yours. Since that damned Home Economics class, been yours."

He started to relax a bit but I still heard crying. Though this time, it sounded distant.

"That's Mario. He's fake crying like an emotional bitch." He said after I asked him.

"Hey! You're using my phone to talk to him so you better be nicer."

"What happened to your phone?"

"My dad didn't give me it when we got here. Decided to keep me out of reach, I guess."

"Well, we can't do anything about him anymore." I turned to the other side of the pillow. "He's now town's major. We're so screwed."

"He's the what?"

Wow, he really did cut him off town completely. His dad angered me in ways I didn't think were possible. "Yeah... Alder retired, your dad promoted. You didn't know at all?"

I heard a deep sigh. At least he was no longer crying. I wasn't too. Boys don't cry. "He took me out of town suddenly. Well suddenly for me, he had it planned. Must've happened right after I was gone."

He was gone. It still hurt.

I debated opening up the topic of the poem. I didn't know how to approach it, yet I felt guilty and overwhelmed. How was I supposed to tell someone their mom is not dead like they thought she were, but only hiding because their dad has prevented her from being in their life?

I decided, like in many situations, to play dumb. Technically I wasn't playing dumb. I was pretty much dumb most of the times. "Hey, Kent. I've been meaning to ask you about that poem you left me in the jacket." I wanted to test the waters. See how much he knew.

I had thought it was him who wrote the poem at first. Last thing I expected was to find his fucking mom because of it. I wondered if he knew more than he let on.

"Uhm, what poem?" He seemed more confused than I was.

"The poem you left me. Did you not put it there?"

"Oh shit." He suddenly started whispering, "I forgot it in there because dad came. Panic rose in his voice. "Pray he doesn't notice it's gone or we're screwed."

"Do you know what is it?" I asked carefully.

He went silent, like he was pondering what could it be. "I know what it's not." He finally spoke. "It's not dad's writing. He doesn't have a drop of poetic prose in him."

"I love the fact that you're trash talking my uncle-in-law." The other voice, Mario, commented. I could hear him, but he couldn't hear me.

"I want to think it's mom. I mean, I hope she wrote it, even though dad didn't deserve it. But I don't think it's her or else he would've shown me it. He's a bad person, yeah, but he wouldn't keep the one thing remaining from mom's memory hidden from me."

Little did he know how untrue that was.

I couldn't get myself to tell him over the phone.

I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He fucking noticed.

A better question would be 'What's right?' because nothing was going right, Kent Sinclair. Nothing was going right, and I didn't know where to begin to reach the end.

"I can't wait. I can't wait to see the broken world through your broken heart again, Kent."

I hung up.

--

My day started like any other day at school. However, my school year didn't.

A lot had happened when the year started to a point that it felt like I had a huge part of my life missing and only got it back this year.

I walked through the empty halls of school. It was well past classes, and even football practice was over. I didn't feel like going home, so I just started wandering around, looking for nothing in particular.

I knew, though. I knew that I was not as aimless as I wanted to believe. I wasn't looking for just one thing. Life was a huge video game, and I was seeking to collect a few soul points from here and there.

Maybe I'd level up, and maybe I'd stay where I am, but my soul would regain some of what it needs; replenishment.

I collected a point when I passed by Kent's locker and saw the remnants of a spray paint vandalism when the year started.

I collected another point when I passed by Home Economics class.

Everyone was hurting Kent, I remembered. No one would pick him as a partner for the project. No one wanted weird, angry Kent Sinclair.

I went out to the bleachers, where Kent Sinclair was hiding, crying, and finding comfort in a school jacket with number six on it. I got a point for that.

And then I made it all the way to the cafeteria, feeling like the world was wrapped in a hazy daze. I walked by the table at the end of the cafeteria, where I punched Casper Dean for punching Kent. That had to be more than one point. My finger never felt the same after I broke it. Two points for that alone.

And finally, I sat at my lunch table, right where I was sitting when Gavin Ross showed me what his sister had texted him. A picture of Kent Sinclair, sitting at a lunch table in Eastmill Secondary.

Eastmill Armadillos: the very first Home game of the season. We won the game because of Gavin's great skills, dad's great coaching, and some good luck.

Eastmill Armadillos: the very last Away game of the season, and we were going to play on their turf. The turf of a school where Kent Sinclair was, and I was going to see him.

A/N: More sooner than before I promise x.