He Thought I Would Always Wait Novels & Stories

He did nothing at all. “How long do you need?” he said. I laughed, helplessly. “Do you have the time?” “I have nothing else.” He gestured at the empty stairwell with an almost shy smile. “I used to think the whole world was waiting for me. It turns out it can wait for us.” So we waited. I breathed in and out. I pressed the flat of my hand against my knee and said every kind thing I had ever learned to say to it. After a while the feeling came back, slowly, like warm water into a cold glass.

I had been so afraid of the answer that I had stopped asking the question. It had to stop. The cycle of almosts and maybes and what-ifs had to end. I had to stop waiting for him to be ready and start showing him that I was already there. That I had always been there. That I would always be there. That I was done with almost.

“‌I used⁠ to wait​ f‌or​ h​i⁠m‌.” Th‌e words came out b‍efor‌e‌ I c⁠ould s​top them. “Every m⁠or‍ning, I would w‌​ake up a⁠‌nd won⁠der if he w⁠ou⁠ld have br⁠ea​kfast with me‌.​ Somet‍imes he prom‌ised he would. Some​ti‌mes h⁠e actually showed up, but h‍e w​as‍ always distracted. A phone in on‍e​ han⁠d, a‌​ news‌paper in the other, s‍ome meeting he​ nee‌ded to‌‌ at‌ten​d⁠.”

I said "You should." I reached for the door handle before turning back. "Thank you." I said. "For what?" He asked with a raised brow. "For waiting." He smiled."I'll always wait for you." Those words followed me all the way to my apartment. My home felt strangely quiet. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about prosecutors, juries, or evidence. I was thinking about Noah Adler. About the way his lips had felt against mine, about the certainty in his voice when he said I'll wait.

Yes? "Last night was not a mistake." Then he leaves. I sit in the kitchen alone and stare at the coffee cup and think about the way he said "always." Like he meant it. Like he would wait as long as I needed him to wait. Like I was worth waiting for. And for the first time since I signed the contract, I think maybe I am.

I whispered. "For what?" he asked. "For being here," I said. "For not giving up on me. For waiting." He kissed my forehead. "Always," he said. "I'll always wait for you Hazel."

He thought it was going to keep building. He thought it was always going to keep building. He thought that was exactly right. He drank his coffee. He went to look at bigger tables online. He had opinions about tables. He was going to find the right one. He was going to bring it to whatever house came next. He was going to cook in whatever kitchen came next. He was going to be there for every Sunday that came next. Because that was what he did. He showed up. He kept showing up. That was the whole thing. That was all it had ever been.

“Every time you asked me to wait, I waited. Every time you asked me to give something up, I did.” I looked at him. “I waited until Noah became afraid to call you Dad.” “Now I’m done waiting.” The last trace of hope disappeared from his face. After a long silence, he whispered, “What am I supposed to do without you?” “That’s something you have to figure out.” Footsteps sounded upstairs. Noah stood on the staircase. Damian quickly turned away and wiped his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was unsteady. “Noah, can I come see you tomorrow?”

The small fountain is the kind of fountain that exists in small Silverlake parks, the kind of fountain that has a small leak and a small sound and a small piece of trash in it, in the way that small fountains are small. I want to call him. I want to call him and say what is wrong and are you okay and I love you, because I have been practising the sentence since six a.m. and the sentence is the only thing I have, and the sentence is the only thing I want to say. I do not call him. He wrote that he did not come to the hospital. I am going to be a person about it. I am going to wait. I am going to wait because he asked me to wait and I love him and I am going to wait.

**Jheanne's POV** I kept staring at the door he had walked out of. He'd been gone for a while already, but I was still standing there, hearing his words over and over in my head. He said he'd find me. A bitter smile touched my lips. Would he really do that for me? But what if I wear out waiting? What if, while I'm waiting for him to remember me, I'm the one who ends up forgetting him? I sighed.