Chapter Fifty-Five: Less So

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The weekend passed quickly for Gemma, yet less so for Noah.

Much less so.

For the first time since she left he received a voicemail from Juliana. It was Saturday morning.

"I'm close, so close, to forgiving you. Why? Because when I left, I only blamed you. And that wasn't fair, especially when the fault was shared. I was angry with you to avoid the wrath directed at myself.

But I ran into this girl today. She was so nice, so easy to talk to . . . And her eyes were so bright. She talked as if she almost knew you . . . Ah, nevermind. I talked to her, I vented, and I realized that we were the flaw in each other. Sure, that doesn't make sense, and it shouldn't, to everyone except you. But I know you understand.

    So I want to meet. I don't want to be friends or anything, but maybe someday . . . Noah, I want a proper goodbye. And I know you, I know you want one too."

    He listened to the voicemail again, and one more time after that. She couldn't be . . . Had she talked to Gemma? The two had never directly met, and both probably were unaware of the relation.

    He called up Gemma.

    "Noah?"

    "Yeah. Hey, did you talk to a girl, long dark hair, hispanic, . . . "

    "I talked to Juliana." She suggested.

    "Oh, I wasn't sure if you knew it was her."

    "She came to the coffee shop, she said she'd never been before. She asked the cashier if you were here, and he told her to ask me. I talked with her for a while, and convinced her to talk to you." She paused, "How did you know?"

    "It worked. You got through to her." He smiled sadly to himself, "She called."

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