WORDCHASM

Noah

Dedication: For Wesley

Noah and Livvy were married five years, three months, and seventeen days on the day the doctor told Noah he had at best six months to live. It was not the first time he’d heard this- he had not been content with the first medical opinion, or the second, or the third. This time it sank in, and that night he left his wife washing the dinner dishes and went for a long run.

As he ran, he came to a decision- he would not tell Livvy. Rather than let her spend her youth under the miserable burden of watching her husband waste away, he would give up what he held dearest and die alone.

Noah began picking fights with her, petty, meaningless, yet fierce fights that would invariably end in their raised voices and her baffled, angry tears. Afterwards, he would go running and let his own tears mingle with the sweat coursing down his face, hating himself and the cruelty of what he was doing. Arguing became easier as his energy and patience waned over the weeks, and after he collapsed during a run, he began driving after their arguments until he was calm again.

Livvy could not understand what was happening to the gentle, loving man she’d married, why he had become so angry, even heartlessly mean. Her attempts at conciliation were brushed off impatiently, her suggestions of counseling derided viciously. Noah never het her see how his hands trembled with weakness, never let her touch his increasingly fevered skin. Hearing his wife sob softly to herself one night, it took every last ounce of his willpower to resist putting his arms around her and begging her to forgive him. He realized then that with his life coming to a close, he needed to put an end to the anguish he had wanted all along to prevent.

Some days later he told Livvy he was leaving her. He marveled that she did not cry, but held her chin high and her blue eyes were hard as she listened to him fumble an explanation- something about a writing job in Spain. His casual offer of divorce elicited a deep groan from her as she finally broke down. “Noah, what do I have to do to make all this go away?” she cried. The finality of his decision dawned painfully on her as she watched him slowly, impassively, shake his head.

Three days later Noah, with shaking hands, packed all his things into boxes, grateful that Livvy was not home to see him crumple under the weight of a single box of clothes. He hired men to do the rest, and when she got home, they had just closed up the U-Haul and were ready to leave. She called his name as he walked out the door, and handed him the last duffel bag. He kissed the top of her bowed head and turned to walk down the gravel pathway he had walked so many times before. When he turned to wave one last goodbye, she was no longer there to wave back.