feeling had been nagging at me for the last two hours in the car as Noah and I had sat in almost total silence.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What if I hear something I’m not going to like? What if I have something in my past that is so terrible and painful, that’s why I’ve forgotten it? What if I learn something about myself, or my childhood, that I don’t really want to learn? What if there’s something in my past that is so bad, so terrible, that I’m deeply ashamed of it, or regret it? What if I am actually better off not knowing?”
Noah paused for the longest time. The pause was heavy. Like there was something inside it waiting to come out.
“There’s nothing in your past that is not worth remembering, no matter how painful it is. There’s nothing in your past to regret, because everything that’s happened is what made you the person you are.”
“Yes, but I don’t know the person I am. I thought I did, but I don’t.”
Noah turned and smiled at me. “I know the person you are.”
“Who?”
He looked back down at my clothing. “You’re the kind of person who wears clothes like that and totally pulls them off. You’re this person sitting here. Right now. Just the way you are.”
I looked down and ran my hands over my leggings. I was wearing a pair of leopard-print leggings with fluff around the ankles. They were a costume from the stage show Cats. I’d paired this with a pink tie-dye T-shirt and a glittery handbag which had been a prop from a soap opera Sindi had worked on some years back.
“Thank you.” I smiled at Noah, but then felt it falter as I thought about what I was possibly about to uncover. This didn’t go unnoticed and he looked at me meaningfully for a moment, before turning his attention back to the road.
“I want to tell you something.” He sounded solemn.
“Yes.” I turned in my chair to face him. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead and it looked like nothing would pull them away. Like he’d deliberately locked them there.
“What is it?” I pressed.
“It’s about my childhood. My past. I guess you could say it’s something that one might wish to forget. But I’m glad I haven’t forgotten it, because it changed the course of my entire life.”
I leaned closer to him. His tone was so serious now. Soft, yet purposeful. I hadn’t heard anyone talk to me like that, not that I remembered, anyway. Someone was about to open their mouths and share something of great importance with me. The very notion humbled me.
“When I was eight years old, my mom was pregnant with my baby sister. We were all so excited about it and I couldn’t wait to be a big brother. And then one day my mom and I were home alone and she slipped down the stairs.”
“Oh God!” I gasped.
“There was so much blood, that’s what I remember the most. And she was in such pain, she couldn’t talk. She could barely breathe, and it was . . .” He shook his head and I could see he was gripping the steering wheel even tighter now. “I have never experienced fear like that before. And loneliness. She was there, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t there to tell me what to do and to comfort me and take away the fear.”
“What did you do?”
“I dialed the police. I remembered their number from a class we’d had in school. But I was terrified to call, and I couldn’t remember our address either, we had just moved to that house. A three-bedroom house for my sister. I had to find a letter with our address on. My mom had lost consciousness, I was terrified and in shock and trying to read this address. The police were asking me to describe my surroundings . . . it was so chaotic. And our new house was on a smallholding just outside Joburg, so I couldn’t even run to my neighbors and we were at least an hour to the nearest hospital.”
“That must have been horrific.”
“It was. Finally, the police figured out where we were and called an ambulance. It arrived after what felt like years. The whole time I was there alone with my mom, I had no idea what to do. She was in so much pain, she was going in and out of consciousness, she was losing so