How to Save Noah Brown

Prologue:

I was born a Daddy's girl.

The story goes that I was a mistake. My mom discovered she was pregnant on her eighteenth birthday, and nearly seven months later I pulled myself out of her womb screeching and red faced. Whenever my Dad recounts the story he always pauses for a moment, letting out a dark chuckle before adding, "The nurses hated you. You wouldn't stop wiggling around and screaming. Holy shit, the screaming. No one could get you to shut up."

He smiled fondly. "Your mother thought it was the funniest damn thing in the world, called it your dramatic entrance."

She had forced me into my father's arms, a new teen dad who had just watched his girlfriend give birth, and in his embrace I eventually stopped screaming.

"I smiled down at you, disbelieving that you were mine. And you smiled back, completely quiet and calm. And that's when your Mom decided to call you Noah, after your old man here. Seemed right, since we were piss poor, that the first thing you got was a hand me down."

**

The first real memory I have is of my grandmother. I was three at the time, quickly nearing four, and I already knew deep down that I hated the woman. I wasn't sure what it was about her that I disliked so much, but as I sat on the cool kitchen tile one morning as she fried up some lunch I tried to pinpoint it.

I paused from coloring, squinting at her short, stout frame as she bounced Caroline on her hip roughly while standing over a skillet. She was always clad in t-shirts, often religious ones and occasionally a Christmas shirt, despite the fact that we were in midsummer. She spoke too loudly, her southern drawl brash and suffocating.

I pursed my lips as she continued to cook, upset that my Daddy had left me with her. I had begged him not leave in the morning as he climbed into his truck, crying as I desperately clutched the material of his pants into my small fists. I despised that woman, and still he left me with her, waiting until he came back.

Now, I was stuck, listening to her sing in that accent of hers. She had stupid beady eyes that were too close together, and sweat that started from her hairline would run to them when she waddled outside for too long. She always insisted on having things her way.

I wasn't sure when things changed, but I could faintly remember when it wasn't like this. I wasn't stuck in her house all day long with a woman who refused to call me by my first name and instead by my middle name, Claire, because it was a 'real girl name'. It was hard to gather memories, and harder yet to put meaning to them, but I was aware in the past year things had changed.

I perked up, tearing my gaze away from my grandmother when I heard the familiar crunch of gravel, signifying that he was home.

"Daddy!" I screeched, throwing myself from the ground and towards the front door, barreling out to meet him.

"Claire, you be careful now!" She shouted from behind me and she, too, went to see him.

My father smiled broadly as I pushed past the front door and scooped me up in his arms when I finally got to him.

"Hello Ducky," he laughed, holding me against his chest and hugging me so tight that it almost hurt.

I clutched onto his shirt, grateful he had come back to rescue me from that evil woman.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" She asked from behind.

With my face pressed flat against his chest I could feel his words vibrate against my cheek as he answered, "No, Mom. I quit today."

"You did what?"

I instantly prickled at her harsh tone. He noticed, and placed a kiss on the top of head before pushing me onto the bench of his pickup truck. "Stay right there baby," he commanded, before closing the door and turning to face his mother.

I couldn't make out what they were saying as they yelled at each other, my father disappearing into the house and my grandma following suit. I waited a few minutes, my eyes trained on the front door before Daddy finally emerged, with two large suitcases. He threw them in the back of truck before then turning to face Grandma again, standing in the doorway, crying while clutching Caroline in her arms dearly.

She shook her head as my dad tried to pull Caroline out of her arms, sobbing harder. I watched, amazed as they exchanged heated words that were muted by the closed truck door, and Dad finally managed to pull Caroline from her death grip. He opened the door again, not looking at me as he placed her in the middle. She had started to cry, scared by their loud and harsh tones. I brought her to my chest, in an attempt to comfort both her and me as I heard Grandma's shrill voice from behind.

"Noah, please this is the biggest mistake you could make! You'll ruin their lives. You must know you can't take care of two of those girls on your own! A twenty-one year old boy isn't capable on his own!"

Daddy was busy sorting out my seat belt, his wide frame blocking her from my view. I peered around him, my eyes wide as I stared at her, tears running and her face red with anger. The sight of me pushed her towards delirious as her voice took on a higher pitch.

"Don't you dare do this, boy! There's no way in hell you can take care of them! Don't you dare run off! Leaving won't make you forget her and you know that!"
She was scared. Why was she so sad? Why was he so angry? I hated her, but the sight of her hurt to look at. I started crying.
Dad shut my door, his face blank as he walked around the front of the truck, dodging her as she tried to grab onto him. He slammed his door shut, and turned the keys angrily, staring at his own mother in front of us for a second, before he put the truck in reverse, running over her prize rose bushes, to get around her.

Caroline was wailing now, probably just as loud as I did when I was born. Daddy sped out of the drive way as Grandma waddled after us. She must have been screaming loudly, because even over the chaos I could hear her yell, "You balls-less bastard!"

I knew to keep quiet as Daddy drove down the street, instead I focused on watching him, his jaw sharp. After five minutes of driving, when we were stopped at a red light, I finally spoke up.

"What's going on?" My voice was just as rattled as I felt, unable to comprehend what just happened.

"Baby, we're leaving. Starting over with a new town, and home, and everything. Grandma just didn't want us to leave is all."

I took a second to digest this before I nodded.

"Where are we going?"

"Washington. Got a job lined up there and some old friends."

"Oh," I paused, not understanding what he meant. "Daddy, why are we leaving?"

He didn't respond for a second, instead he took in his surroundings from beneath his heavy hooded eyes. "This town reminds me too much of your mother, Ducky. Everywhere I look, all I see is her."