Stories Based On Taylor Swift Songs

EVERMORE: 139. Tolerate It

139. Tolerate It (2/2/21)

Thalia was nineteen when she met Noah. She had managed to escape the small town she had grown up in, the only place and home she ever knew. Life was getting too predictable for her, and a year of classes at community college and a full-time job at the local convenience store was followed up by a four year commitment to a college two states over.

She remembered how much her mother wept as she packed up her clothes, deciding which items would stay and which would go. Despite her mother's protests, Thalia donated the porcelain and plastic dolls she had received throughout her childhood on birthdays and Christmas. Like clockwork, Thalia could predict which new doll she would receive at each annual holiday. Her collecting had garnered over thirty dolls, which were piled up in her bedroom closet. Her mother asked if she wanted to keep at least one. All the dolls were sent to the building downtown that helped women and their children in crisis.

Thalia was popular in high school, despite the aforementioned details about a doll collection. She was elected class president her senior year, and was on the planning committee for prom. A cute boy asked to be her date. Her dress was the same color of his tie. Everyone at the dance knew they had come together.

She was also on the cheerleading team all four years of high school. During the winter and fall, she would don her school colors, tie her brown hair up high, and decorate her flushed cheeks in blue and white face paint. There are cheerleading teams that take competitions and tricks seriously, but that was not the case with Thalia and the other girls. The most they did were tumbles, cartwheels, and the occasional pyramid. They cheered on the boys with the hopes that the team would score. Thalia's dedication to making the boys on the football team feel better was reflected in her relationship with Noah.

Noah looked like the devil in disguise, despite his biblical name. He was twenty-five years old, a whole six years older than Thalia. She knew it was wrong, she knew it wasn't right, and yet she always came back to Noah.

The first time they met was imprinted in her brain. She was studying late at the library, sitting near a light green lamp on the wooden table. Two hours of psychology textbooks and required readings for English class had led Thalia to doze off. Now she was awake and doodling in the margins of her paper. She didn't have a great talent for art, but hoped to learn.

Noah nearly walked right past her, and if his movement hadn't startled her so much, she wouldn't be in the position she was today. She was so caught up in her doodles, and the coffee was starting to wear off. When Noah walked past her, carrying a stack of books, Thalia let out a small shriek and sat straight up in her chair.

"Are you alright?" Noah had asked, setting the stack of books down on the table and placing a supporting hand on her forearm. "The library closes in ten minutes, ya know."

Thalia's face turned into a wildfire. Up close, the boy looked like a figure from her dreams. Long, feminine eyelashes over soulful brown eyes, a curved nose, and light pink lips that were forming into a smile. His skin was tan, suggesting that he liked the beach and the ocean. His brown hair was curling towards the ends, but didn't go past his shoulders. And through the thin material of his white shirt, Thalia could see the lines of his muscles and plains of his chest.

Noah must've sensed it too, for he met Thalia's gaze and let out a light chuckle. "What's your name?"

The two exchanged pleasantries, and Noah explained that he was stacking shelves after a meeting with an old professor. He had graduated a few years ago, but lived nearby. He asked Thalia if she wanted to come over. The word "yes" couldn't leave her mouth fast enough.

Thalia wished the night would never end. Noah took her home and poured her a glass of wine. She didn't try and explain that she was too young, too young for the wine and too young for him. She drank it anyway, admiring the man from afar. Then, under the light in the kitchen, he kissed her. She shouldn't have let him; they had just met an hour ago. But he kissed her, and he was good at it. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth before pulling away and smiling at her.

The secondary location was the bedroom, which was just down the hall. Like a snake, Thalia peeled off her clothes and joined Noah in the bed, staying as close to him as possible. He tasted like chamomile tea and lemon. He explored her body with his light fingers and his raw lips. She let him inside of her, something she had never done with a man before. He was the only one she gave permission to.

What followed was a whirlwind romance, and Thalia could hardly keep up. Noah was important at work and would ask her to dinner parties and galas. When the other guests asked Thalia questions, trying to engage her in the material or even get to know her, Noah talked over her. He assured her that she wouldn't know what they were talking about. He was older. He was wiser. He knew all.

Now, on a cold rainy day in November, Thalia sat at the table, playing with her watercolor paints. Noah had bought them for her for her twentieth birthday. He wasn't home from work, but her memory worked overtime to remember all his features. With the browns and the blues, she worked on his portrait, biting on her lip in total concentration.

Noah walked through the door a few moments later. He didn't want to talk; instead, he slung off his coat and fell into an easy chair. Through her eyelashes, Thalia glanced up at him. He had plucked a book off the shelf and was flipping through the pages.

"How was work?" She heard herself say, and regretted the words as soon as Noah met her gaze. There was fire behind those once soulful eyes.

Like a firecracker, Noah blew up until pieces of him were scattered on the hardwood floor. He wouldn't let Thalia in edgewise, and the voice she once used to command a crowd at a pep rally was gone. After firing a particularly pointed blow, he approached the table and saw the portrait of himself. He called it hideous. He called it horrible. He ripped it to shreds.

When the damage was done, Noah stalked off to his bedroom. Thalia could hardly process the mess on the floor. She rose from her chair, swallowing the lump in her throat like bubblegum, and walked down the hallway. She leaned up against the bedroom door, wondering if Noah knew she was here. When he didn't shout, Thalia knew what she needed to do.

Her life with Noah was too predictable. She would treat him like the small town she grew up in and leave.