12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Rory

I can't believe I'm here, in front of this guy, Ian. A guy that has parts of John in him. I can't see those parts of him, but I know they're there, making my need to reach out and touch nearly unstoppable. Only the consequences of doing that are keeping me stuck in my own place.

I'd love to talk to him, to ask about his life, but that's another rule I can't break. And yet, I'm happy like I haven't been in a long time, because even if I can't voice my thoughts and share them with this person, I can still say my goodbyes. I can also see the results of what John's organs have given to people. A new life, something they couldn't have had if John was still with me.

It sucks big time, and I wish with all my being I could have him here with me, but what his death has done, the hope it has given to people, makes his loss a little less painful. It gives it meaning.

Samuel's gaze is like a weight on my body. Is he making sure that I'm following his orders? Or is there more to it? I shouldn't be thinking about him, and what his presence does to me, especially now that John is here—in some way.

I watch the man who has John's kidneys laugh at something someone next to him says, and that joy spreads inside of me like water. I'm regenerated, purified, and blessed just from seeing it.

I observe him, and nothing in him reminds me of John. He's shorter than John, and at least twenty years older. I don't see any grey hair from this far away, but I bet he has some. His mannerisms remind me of older times, and the way he laughs and interacts with the man beside him speaks of years of friendship. Nothing in him is John.

Our eyes lock, and John's face overlaps Ian's, and tears spring to my eyes. I take a step forward, but Samuel's gaze gets more intense, and I stop.

I watch in fear and excitement when Ian leaves the bench he's sitting on and walks towards me. I don't move—I'm not even sure I'm breathing—and the closer he gets, the stronger John's presence becomes.

"Hey," he says, when he stops in front of me.

"Hey," I try to reply, but the greeting gets stuck inside my throat. I clear it and try again, and I swear his smile is just like John's.

"Do we know each other?"

I shake my head because I can't talk. And if I do, I'll spill everything, and this will be the last time I have the chance to see John. I'm not ready yet to let go. So, I bite my lips to keep everything inside.

Samuel's gaze is no longer a weight, but like a caress that gives me support, and I finally find my voice.

"We were just admiring the place," I say, while including Samuel in the picture with a gesture of my hand.

"Are you passing by?"

"Yes. We're here . . ." But I can't continue because I can't lie to save my life.

"For work." Samuel's strong voice saves me again.

"What do you do?"

"We're in sales." Samuel once again replies for the both of us. I'm grateful for it, but at the same time, I'm a little wary that he can lie so easily to everyone. I know I have issues with lies; I can't even tell any, so I shouldn't be judging him—especially because he's lying for me. And yet . . .

"Any good places we could stop to eat?" Samuel asks. I'm like a doll right now. My head is empty, like I don't have a brain.

"You two are in luck," he says, smiling widely. "I run a place, and I'd be happy to have you for breakfast or lunch. Brunch?" Ian laughs again as if he's joking.

It can't be real. How can I be that lucky? I get to spend some time with this guy, and with John.

When Samuel hesitates, I jump in.

"We'd be happy to." I don't look at Samuel, because his gaze is back to being as heavy as a stone. But I can't let this chance go and miss knowing more.

"Follow me. It's just a five-minute walk from here." And then Ian turns around and waves at his friend. "Fred, I'm going. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He waits for the other man to say goodbye and then we're on our way to his place.

I look everywhere but at Samuel. He must be upset that not only did we have to talk to the guy, but now we're going to spend time with him. I can't stop noticing, though, that he's falling behind. I remember he's injured, and that he probably shouldn't be walking at all.

"I'm Rory," I say to Ian, hoping he'll walk slower so Samuel can catch a breath. I'm glad when it works, and he turns around to walk by my side. I slow my pace and he does as well.

Once again, Samuel's gaze changes and it's back to feeling like a caress, so I take it as a thank you.

"I'm Ian," he says.

"This is Samuel," I say. Ian stops, giving Samuel a chance to rest a bit.

"Hey, there," he says, and seems so calm and collected. But when I glance at his face, not only is his strain visible, but I also notice how wet his skin looks.

Ian, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice anything, and I wonder if I'm spending so much time with Samuel that it's becoming easier and easier to read him a bit better every day.

Am I getting too close to him? Am I betraying John?

I'm pulled away from those thoughts by Samuel's hand resting on my back. I move away, because the thrill the touch sends down my spine is too much to bear, and it feels like another betrayal to John's memory.

I glance at him when the silence is too much to bear, but his face is unreadable, and guilt fills me, even if I don't know why.

"I'm starving," Samuel says, to break the silence and the awkward glances Ian is giving us.

"Let's go, then," Ian says with a happy smile.

"How long have you had this place of yours?" Samuel asks Ian, while I stay back, trying to sort my tangled thoughts.

"It's always been a dream of mine, but it's a recent thing. I wasn't really well before, so I wouldn't have managed a place like this. But nearly two years ago I was blessed, and now I have what I've always dreamt of."

His beaming face is a stab in my heart. Because, while it reminds me of my loss, it's also a blessing to see what John's death has brought to this man.

A new life.

I sense Samuel closer to me, but he doesn't touch me this time. I'm glad, because if he does I'll break, and then I'd have to explain why to Ian.

"Are you okay?" Samuel's concerned voice washes over me.

I shake my head in a way only he can see, and reply, "Yes, I am." I'm glad Ian doesn't turn around and see me close to tears.

After a short walk, we reach Ian's small café, and it's something John would have loved. It looks like a place you could spend time working or reading. A lazy place where people can simply enjoy and relax. There are wooden tables, plants, and flowers outside, making it look like a garden. Then the name of the shop comes into full view, and I nearly go down on my knees because it's what John always called me, when it was just the two of us.

My Heart Café.

John's nickname for me was ‘my heart.' Could it be that he's really here, in this man that's nothing like John?

Samuel's presence is like a rock, and I lean on him when his body heat tells me he's close to me. He takes my weight, even if he's injured. I shouldn't rely on him so much, but right now, I'm not in this city, on this road, or even in the present—I'm in the past. John and I are sitting on the sofa, my head in his lap, and his hands are caressing my hair. His deep voice washes over me, and there's a thump in my heart every time I hear him call me ‘my heart.'

His endearing nickname for me always had the power to transform my day. To push the memories away and repair some of the cracks branded deep inside my heart.

I want to weep, and I want to scream until John is back here so I can ask for forgiveness, just once, then scream until I let go of my sorrow, and I'm able to make John proud of me again.

"Rory." Samuel's voice in my ear sends tingles down my spine again, bringing me back to the present. I turn around and I'm met with Samuel's nose, and I'd love nothing more than to rest my head on his shoulder and cry for a while. Instead, I blink the tears away, knowing he'll let me be weak until I'm ready to enter the place.

I'm surprised when he places his arms around me and pulls me close. I try not to let my body fully lean against his, but I take the warmth, kindness, and strength he's so willing to share with me.

"Everything okay?" Ian asks.

"Yes, all good. Rory is feeling a bit dizzy, but all will be solved by your sure-to-be amazing food." Samuel's appreciation seems to quash Ian's wariness, and he turns around to open the door and let us in.

I turn around in Samuel's arms and take a step forward. I don't look at the name on the sign again, but it's stuck in my brain.

I walk in, afraid of finding more of John there, but even if this place calls to me, I don't see anything as important as the name of the place.

"Hey Ian." The people in the place call out, and he waves right and left, smiling at everyone and everything.

I'm glad Ian is a good person, and everyone seems to love him.

"Take a seat, boys," he says, indicating a table in the corner, away from all the others. "This is my table," he explains, "and no one is going to disturb you here."

"Are you joining us?" Samuel asks before I can.

"Sure thing. Let me grab a couple of menus and tell Stacey to come and take our orders."

"Are you okay?" Samuel asks as soon as Ian is gone.

"I'm not sure right now, but let's talk when we get out of here." I don't want Ian to hear, as it'll be like breaking the promise I made to Samuel, and there is nothing I want to happen less.

"Okay." He seems unsure, but before he can say more, Ian is back.

I extend my hand under the table and take Samuel's. I give it a squeeze as a thank you and for support. I don't ask myself why I always look to him to settle my confused thoughts and feelings. But when he squeezes it back, I relax as if he flipped a switch. My mind is at ease and sure that everything that'll happen here is meant to be. And it's meant for me to find peace.

When Ian sits down, Samuel doesn't waste time, and I'd love nothing more than to hug him because he does what I should be doing, but I can't seem to think right now.

"So, you were talking about this place? It's fantastic, by the way."

That seems to put Ian at ease, and Samuel leans back to appear as relaxed as the other man, but I witness the flash of pain when he extends his leg under the table.

How am I going to repay him?

"I've been sick for a long time," he says, and we can see in his eyes how difficult that time has been.

"I'm sorry to hear that," both Samuel and I say at the same time.

"It's fine now. I've been very lucky."

Oh my God, is he really going to talk about John? And without me having to break the promise I made to be here talking with this man.

I open my mouth to ask, but Samuel beats me to it once again.

"Tell us more, if you don't mind sharing."

"Of course, I don't. I'm so grateful for what I received that I want to share it with everyone." His smile tells of his happiness.

"We're more than happy to listen," Samuel says, and leans in, focusing his full attention on Ian.

"You know what, boys? Miracles are real. They do exist, and I was lucky enough to have one for myself."

"We don't really believe in miracles," Samuel says, and I hear the hurt behind his words.

"Are you challenging me, boy?" Ian asks, but there is no malice behind his words, only the confidence that whatever he has to share will, in fact, be a miracle. It's beautiful to see.

"Yes, I am, old man," Samuel jokes with him.

"I won't bet because this is too important, but I'm sure you'll agree with me by the time I'm done."

"Hello," someone next to me says, making me jump out of my skin. I was hanging off Ian's words and the world faded just for a second.

"Hey, Stacey. Rory and Samuel," he says, pointing at us, "are in town for a bit, so make sure whatever they order is the best thing we can make."

"Of course, old man. That's what we usually do," she says to him, winking at us.

"Stop with the ‘old man,' and take the order, old hag." But then to our surprise he sends a kiss her way, and she pats his cheek.

"This is Stacey, my wife. I've been lucky in that department as well. She's the love of my life."

I envy the look of love they share, because that's what I've been looking for all my life—someone to love me like I am, with all my scars and weaknesses. Willing to accept that I'm not perfect. I had that someone in John, even if he couldn't understand some parts of me. But who in the world can say that their partner understands everything about them? Now, thinking about it, I'm left with nothing—just like before I met John. It's worse, actually, because now I know what I'm missing.

"Rory?" My name on Samuel's lips has my heart beating a bit faster, but I ignore the effect he has on me and concentrate on the other people at the table.

"What can I get you, darling?" Stacey asks me.

"Can I have an English breakfast?"

"Of course you can, darling," she says while writing my order down.

"Can I have one as well? No beans, please. They look like worms on my plate, and I hate them."

I look at Samuel, sure my eyes are bulging out of their sockets, because what he just said is the same thing John used to say.

What's happening today? John, are you sending me signs?

"Old man, I'll bring you the usual."

"Thank you, darling."

"So, where were we?" Ian asks, but it's a rhetorical question because he jumps right back into the story he wants to share with us.

Silently, I wait to know more and hopefully get a few glimpses of John.

"I was twenty when my kidney problem started. I didn't think much of it. You know how kids are. Always so sure that nothing can stop them. That was me."

I watch Samuel nod, but I can't do the same because my life was less than perfect, and I never took anything for granted—not even my life.

Ian seems happy with whatever reply he gets and then continues.

"When things got worse, and my kidneys stopped working, I had to start dialysis. There was no drinking until my thirst was satisfied because I had to control the intake of liquid. I had to spend hours in the dialysis ward every couple of days so they could drain the liquid from my body. My mind and my body were deteriorating, and even simple flus were putting me in the hospital. Do you know how much it takes from you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, and to be honest, I wouldn't have one.

"I'm sorry," I say, because I don't understand how he felt. I've never known anyone with those kinds of health problems, so all this is a mystery to me.

"Thank you. I felt sorry for myself for a long time. And for a long time, I made my life, and the lives of those around me, very hard." He shakes his head as if ashamed of himself.

Samuel and I exchange a look, but we don't say a word.

"Then one day, I received a call in the middle of the night. Usually calls that arrive at those hours bring bad news, but for me it was the best call I ever had. A kidney was available for me." He shakes his head again and then continues. "You must think I'm a monster, because I was happy when someone else died."

"I . . ." I try to speak, but words don't come, because it's true he was . . . but he wasn't.

"I don't think that's the case. I bet you felt bad for whoever died that night. However, your life was looking brighter." Samuel's words are making this awkward moment a better one. A celebration of someone's death, and a celebration of someone's life.

"Yes, boy," Ian says, patting Samuel's hand. "You got that right."

"We rushed to the hospital, and after that, it was an emotional roller coaster—a moment of fear and hope. I don't think I'll have another moment like that ever again." He stays silent for a while, probably reliving whatever happened to him.

"What happened next?" I ask, because I need to know.

"It was a boy, you know. The one that died and allowed me to live a normal life." His eyes are wet and I'm glad John's kidney went to this man. A person who can appreciate life and the sacrifice of a life for another.

"I had a long operation, and there were complications, but in the end, everything was fine and now I have all this. I pray every day for that boy who gave me back all this." He looks at the place, at what he built after the operation, but his gaze searches out Stacey and stays there for a long minute. The love he has for her shines through and lights the entire place.

My eyes fill with tears again, because of what I lost, but also for what John was able to achieve in death.

How can I be proud of him for what he did when I lost him? Does what I'm thinking even make sense?

I don't look at them because I need a minute to get my emotions under control. If I talk or even meet their gazes, I'm going to break and tell him I'm the person who lost his lover, and by losing him, I also lost the life we'd built together.

Samuel's eyes on me are like a blanket, and a reminder, that if I say something I'll lose the chance to find out more about John, and the lives he gave back to these people.

"Here we are." Stacey's pleased voice gets my attention, and I watch as she places three huge plates of food in front of us.

I'm not sure I can get anything inside me right now, but then one of Samuel's hands comes to rest on my knee, away from prying eyes, and once again his touch is like a mother's touch for a crying baby, bringing peace and calm. And hope?

"Eat," he whispers, so I take the fork and focus my attention on the food in front of me. I'll have time to think about today, and everything else, later.

One question, though, is swirling inside my head, and before I can think better of it, I ask.

"Why this name?"

"What do you mean?"

"What is the meaning of the name? Why did you choose this name?"

He looks at me as if he never thought about this before, and for a second, I think he's not going to answer, but after a few moments, he does.

"You're probably going to think that I'm crazy, but I swear on everything I love that someone whispered it to me. I felt like I had to give it this name, as if I needed to say to someone I'm still here."

Is this a message from John? Is this message for me?

Can I believe it? Or am I just grasping at straws?

I concentrate on my plate, and I eat as quickly as possible, because I want to be away from here. I want to crawl into bed and get under the sheets, and stay there until all my tears are gone, and my desire to see John has diminished.

I'm glad to leave the conversation to Samuel, but his presence, gaze, and comfort are never too far.

We spend a few hours there, and walking away is the hardest thing I have to do because it's like losing John again. I'm grateful Samuel is here, and he takes me away, because Ian would have noticed something was wrong with me. He probably did already, but he hasn't said anything.

While we walk away, I keep stealing glances at the place, because I know this will be the last time John will call me his heart. We don't talk, and the farther we get, the more I want to run back, but I can only move forward.

I'm glad when we are in our room.

"I'm going for a shower," I say to Samuel as soon as we are in.

I don't even wait for him to answer or acknowledge me. I pick up my towel and then rush to the bathroom.

I close the door with a light click and turn the water on. While it gets warm, I get rid of my clothes, and as soon as I'm naked, I jump in.

Only then do I allow myself to cry.

For a long time.