“I wasn’t ready to accept he’d be first,” Noa responds, “not then. But once I realized he wasn’t as big and indestructible as he gave off…” her words taper, an indication of how closely she holds things to herself. “Your Gray thought too much, and sometimes I think Jonny didn’t think enough.” The buzz of her equipment halts for a moment. “I loved him to my bones, he was one of a kind. I wouldn’t change a single fight, ‘cause they help in remembering he was real.” with another pause, she gets back to work.
There’s a stretch of silence as she concentrates, and then she says, “The morning before he died I remember trying to get him to wear his protective vest. He wasn’t paranoid as some of ‘em are, so he didn’t. Even that kind of thing I can’t hold against him, ‘cause it was who he was.” In the days after they buried him she wondered what would have happened if he had listened, but she never got stuck on it, not really.
“I suspect part of remembering people is remembering they were people, and not fairy tale illustrations, perfectly formed.” She exhales a laugh. “I can’t imagine the kind of things he’d be saying if I hadn’t made it through quarantine. I hope he’d remember all the things that used to frustrate him about me.” Noa never wanted to remembered through rose colored glasses.