10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Rory

I'm buzzing on the chair at the coffee shop where we are sitting, pretending to have a coffee, while I wait anxiously for Samuel to let me know which one of the ladies in this place is the one who's able to see because of John.

I glance at Samuel, sitting in front of me, concentrating on his own drink, and I ponder shaking him, demanding to know. But I don't know how he would react if I lost my shit even before meeting the first recipient. And the result of my perusal of his face, which looks grey and sweaty, shows dark circles under his eyes and lips turned down as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

When he raises his head to look up, I turn my head, pretending I wasn't checking him out.

"She's not here yet," he says, probably aware of the tension filling my body as my need to be doing something grows inside me.

Waiting is the worst kind of pain.

The door opens and I turn around to look, but it's a man, so I turn back to Samuel and bring my attention to the drink I haven't touched yet.

"She'll be here soon," he says, and then smiles at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and makes him look even sadder than before.

"Thank you for doing this," I say to him. Just thanking him for what he's doing will never be enough.

"It's fine. I really hope this helps you." His smile is a bit brighter this time.

He brings his attention back to his drink, and I focus on him. My eyes are looking and searching, as if there's a button I can press that will make me understand him.

I'm not sure why I feel this need to know him, to understand what makes him tick, but it's there and growing every time we see each other. I'm not even sure I like him. Don't get me wrong, he is good looking, with broad shoulders, beefy chest, and powerful legs. And the dark atmosphere around him is gentled by his caring attitude.

There is pain in him, slowly eating away at his insides. How do I know? Because I recognise in him the same pain I see in the mirror every day when I look at myself.

"What's your story?" I ask him. Not because I'm curious. Sure, you're not. But because I don't have anything else to do while we wait. Keep fooling yourself.

"We don't need to share our lives. I'm just here to help you get what you need."

This is what I mean. One second, he's caring and concerned about me, the next he's pushing me away as if I was a skunk ready to explode.

"You know everything about me, so it's only fair for me to know a bit more about you."

He looks at me as if trying to understand where I'm going with my questions. I want to say it's only because we're here and he's the only person I can talk to, but in reality, he's like a puzzle I want to solve.

The door opens again, but this time I don't turn around. I'll know soon enough if the person who entered is the one I'm looking for.

"That's her," Samuel says with a movement of his head in her direction. His voice is low enough not to be heard by anyone but me.

Instead of turning around to have my first look at Joanna, my body is frozen and sweating. I'm panicking, but I'm not even sure why. She doesn't know who I am, nor does she know who I was to the person who donated their organs. However, the thought of being in front of John for the first time in two years makes my nerves blow.

She passes by us, and this time my eyes fall on her. She's around five feet three, slender, with long dark hair. Her voice while she greets the other people on staff is harmonious, friendly, and full of joy.

Then she's gone, and I can breathe again. My attention is on the door she disappeared through because I don't want to miss the moment she's back so I can see her face. Her eyes.

I read enough about it to know that she hasn't received his eyes, only his cornea, so her eyes are hers, and they won't be the same colour John's were. However, she's able to see in one eye—because of him.

And there she is, walking without issue, avoiding people and objects. She can see.

My eyes fill with tears, and I can't stop them from falling. Even if nothing in her reminds me of my lover, the fact she has a part of him is crashing into me. I want him to be here with me, so I can remember his touch, his voice, and taste his kiss. I need this because I'm unable to remember the good moments we had.

When I close my eyes, all I see are images of the accident, and the moments before the truck hit us, sending the car down into a ditch so violently that the car rolled multiple times. I don't remember that part because darkness took over as soon as we rolled the first time. What I do remember, though, is the argument we were having just before that moment, about my need to spend time alone, and being unable to fit in with his friends.

Now, I won't have the chance to tell him I'm willing to change, that I'm ready to do everything, just to have him back. After two years, my love for him is not the burning flame it was before, even if I've done my best to keep it alive.

What I really want is not to reignite my feelings for him, because the love I had for him will always be inside me, but to have the chance to say goodbye, to reconnect to the memories we shared without pain, and to enjoy them, laughing when I remember the silly things we did.

"She's going to notice if you keep staring at her." Samuel's voice pulls me away from my own mind.

"Yeah," I say, but at the same time, my eyes follow her again.

I wish I could talk to her, but that's impossible if I want to see others like her.

"Excuse me?" Samuel's voice attracts my attention, and the waiter.

I stop breathing when Joanna walks towards us with a smile on her face, and I notice the colour of her eyes, so similar to John's. The memory of when we first met and I was crushing on him fills my mind. I smile, and I allow the swell of emotion to overflow.

Her face takes on a concerned look before she stops next to us.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Can we have some tissues for my friend here? Something got into his eyes."

I want to kiss Samuel, platonically, for saving me and finding an excuse for the tears streaming down my cheeks.

She runs away to bring Samuel what he asks.

"Thank you," I say to him, hoping how true those words are is coming through.

"No worries." And he surprises me by patting my hand and squeezing it for a second.

"Thank you," I say to Joanna, when she's back with what we asked for.

"Can I get you anything else?"

I look at Samuel, pleading with him to stay here, at least for a little while. I'm not ready to go. Even if I can't talk to her, I can allow the memories of John and me to come back. The good memories.

"Can we have another two coffees? And a lemon muffin, please. Rory?"

"Shortbread millionaire." I say the first thing that comes to mind because I'm not hungry at all.

"That's my favourite," Joanna says. Her childlike smile reminds me of John.

Only at that moment do I realise I've ordered John's favourite without even thinking.

She's gone before we can say anything else.

I spend the next few hours looking at her, then losing myself in my thoughts, remembering the many times John and I went to a coffee shop. He'd challenge me to order something different, only for him to end up ordering the same thing every time. Then he'd try what I was forced to order and complain, saying his choices were the best.

All the while, I feel the silent presence of Samuel next to me. Never overbearing, but always supportive.

"Time to go," Samuel says, and I glance back at my phone, noticing four hours have passed since we got here.

"I'm ready." And I really am. I'm ready to be in the hotel room and let my emotions overwhelm me with no witnesses.

"Thank you," I say once again to Samuel. It won't be the last time I'll say it to him. However, what he gave me today will be difficult to forget.

If we were closer than we are, I would ask him to hug me, because right now I'm missing the touch of another person on me. Not in a sexual way, but the way someone shows support and compassion.

The moments I need this kind of touch are when I miss John the most.