Page 117 of Something Like Hail

“I get it,” Tim said. “Andyou can trust me, especially when it comes to Marcello. We’reclose. I’ve got his back.”

“Oh. Yeah, so when Felixand I went on our first date, I didn’t know him very well. I didn’tfeel like I could tell him, and of course part of me didn’t want toscare him away. When he acted like he didn’t want to know, I leapton that because—” Noah swallowed, the realization making his throatache. “It’s hard to say how I felt at the time, but now, I don’twant him to be disappointed in me.”

Tim considered this insilence. Then he laughed, which seemed cold, until he explainedhimself. “Youarelike me when I was your age. Want some advice?”

Noah nodded. “Sure.”

“Don’t play games withpeople. No matter how good your intentions. It always comes back tobite you in the ass.”

Noah wasn’t playing games or trying to lieto anyone, unless being willfully vague counted. Regardless, herecognized the truth in Tim’s words. The situation with Felix wasdelicate, and he needed to decide—and soon—how he was going to dealwith it.

He was lost in thought for the remainder ofthe trip, Tim eventually asking if he could put music on. Noahagreed, agitated when so many of the songs focused on the woes oflove, but the more positive aspects were increasingly difficult toremember as they neared their destination.

“Jesus,” Tim breathed whenthey pulled up to the prison. “So that’s it, huh?”

“Yeah.” Despite how oftenNoah had been there, he too felt a sense of dread upon everyarrival. He was reminded of his first visit while watching Timstruggle with each step of the process, like when the car wassearched. Not just the interior but the trunk and under the hoodtoo. Going inside the building and through the metal detectors feltupsettingly close to being processed as a new inmate. Tim’s mouthwas a flat line, his face flushed, when he was pulled aside andsubjected to a thorough frisking.

“I’m never coming backhere,” he muttered once they were sitting in the large open visitorarea and waiting for prisoners to arrive.

“Can’t blame you,” Noahsaid. “I hate it here too, but just think how Ryan feels. This ishis home now.”

Tim stared at him from across the smallmetal table. “I hope I can trust you. You’re supposed to be mywitness, but you’re on his side, aren’t you?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side!”Noah shot back.

Tim continued to scrutinize him, then heexhaled. “I hope Nathaniel was right.”

Noah shook his head, not understanding.“Right about what?”

“He said that you’re a goodkid.”

Noah stared back. “He did?”

Tim nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if not forhim. He said you have integrity. Nathaniel is big on that kind ofthing. Integrity, honesty, and man does he hate laziness. He toldme that you’re a hard worker, that you never ask for anything youhaven’t earned.”

That was flattering! Noah had always wantedto prove himself to Marcello, but he hadn’t realized he was makingan impression on someone else instead.

“Then again,” Timcontinued, “he also said that you follow your heart around like acarrot dangling from a stick.”

The mental image made him laugh. “Really? Hesaid that?”

“Yeah,” Tim replied, notsharing his mirth. “I took that as a good sign, like you’re tooloving of a person to stab me in the back. But now I’mthinking—”

“I’m just trying to helpRyan move on. Seriously. I know you don’t have much reason to, butyou really can trust me.”

A harsh buzz cut through the room before Timcould reply. All eyes turned toward a far door where prisoners wereushered in, one small group at a time. Noah watched tearfulreunions, the most depressing of which involved children who didn’tseem to know their own father, or weren’t comfortable in theirpresence. Even the greetings that began with embraces and giggleswere difficult to witness, considering that those families wouldsoon be separated again.

Noah waited for the next group to enter.Then he stood and raised a hand. “There he is.”

Tim stood too. What were his thoughts asRyan was brought toward them and the two former lovers sized eachother up? Noah wasn’t sure. Tim’s face was expressionless and hisbody rigid. When the guard left them and Ryan hugged Tim, his armsremained at his sides, not even lifting for a platonic pat on theback.

Ryan was getting teary when he turned toNoah, giving him the same treatment. “Thank you,” he whisperedbefore pulling away.

Noah took the chance to check him out. Hewasn’t as gaunt as he had been a year ago. He seemed to be at ahealthy weight, but the lines under his eyes were darker, as if hehadn’t been sleeping well. He was still pretty, like an elegantantique chair that someone had forgotten by the curb, the rain andsun ruining the fabric and bleaching the wood.

“Something to eat?” Noahasked, holding up the bag of quarters. “Or drink? Better get it nowbefore the lines start to form.”

“Yes!” Ryan said, his smilebright. He looked to Tim. “Can we?”