Teaching Noah | √

033

THE SAME POSITION in which I fell asleep on Noah was the same position I woke up the next morning. I carefully pushed my head off his chest and sat up, knowing he was still deep asleep.

I stretched a bit, tilting my head from side to side. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable— maybe manageable, and the fact that Noah didn’t move much in his sleep helped greatly. Or maybe I spoke to soon, because he shuffled around beside me but fell back to sleep immediately. He looked so peaceful and comfortable, but how was he comfortable sleeping on the floor?

I poked his closed eye, but he didn’t budge, and it made me smile. Determined to wake him up, I reached to poke his eye again, but out of nowhere, he grabbed my hand, “It’s too early for this, Riley.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I laughed.

“Leave me alone.”

I chuckled and pushed myself off the floor, walking to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. By the time I got out, Noah was back asleep. I tied my hair which stood messy on my head, and walked down the stairs. I didn’t want to be that person who got excited about food, but I couldn’t lie that what Mom was cooking hadn’t awoken my stomach.

Is that steak?

“Mom, it smells so heavenly in—” I skipped into the kitchen, but stopped when I saw that the person cooking wasn’t Mom, but Marley. She was moving around in a tank top and cute nightwear shorts with pandas all over them. Just like me, her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun as her hair was longer.

“I mean, I’m not Mom… but, thanks.”

I smiled softly and awkwardly moved to the refrigerator, pretending like I had sudden interest in drinking some water. There was silence between us as I poured some cold water into a glass cup, but at this point, the plan was to get my cup of water and run out of the kitchen.

Not literally.

“Did you sleep okay?” I heard Marley ask, and I immediately nodded, taking a sip of water.

There was a bit of silence before she asked again, “So, Noah is your tutor?”

“Yeah,” I nodded again.

We fell into another uncomfortable silence, and I didn’t exactly know what to make of it.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” I said, and Marley looked at me, eyes soft, “Do what?”

“Talk to me,” I shrugged.

With a bleak expression on her face, she nodded, “Okay.”

When I said that, I definitely wasn’t expecting that answer. I didn’t want to be unreasonable or mean, but the silence between us was uncomfortable, and what was more uncomfortable was knowing my sister only felt the need to speak to me because of the awkward silence.

I downed my glass of water, and moved to leave the kitchen.

“Riley. . . wait,” Marley called, and by the time I turned to look at her, her expression was wistful.

“I know. . . I know I haven’t been the best of sisters. This isn’t how I wanted things to be between us.”

“So, why?” my voice was barely a whisper.

“I have to admit, when you were diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome. . . I was disappointed and so mad.”

“At me?” I looked at her in disbelief. Why wasn’t I surprised? I knew the Tourette’s Syndrome had everything to do with her behavior towards me.