14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Rory

I'm still buzzing and crying, moving from one mood to another in seconds. It's as if my body can't adjust to the emotional blast I had two days ago.

John hasn't been as present in my life in the last few days, but something has changed inside me, and I'm not sure if I have Ian to thank for that, or Samuel, with his kindness . . . and the warmth of his body against mine. Or the warmth of his body against mine.

Memories of John and our life together have been blessing me, and the nightmares that used to haunt me every single night have shown their ugly faces less and less. They're not gone, and I still have guilt inside me, but I'm glad to have good memories of our time together as well. Before starting this journey, they were all tainted with pain and my wrongdoing. I couldn't get past the fact I didn't have more time to show John how important he'd been to me. We might not have been one hundred per cent happy all the time, but what he gave me was one hundred per cent better than what I'd had before.

Looking back now, I can see with clarity that I wasn't ready to be loved or ready to trust when I met John. He taught me that not everyone was as bad as my family, that being gay wasn't a sin, and loving unconditionally was a blessing.

I had forgotten all of this while mourning his loss. I realise I've been focusing on the wrong part of what we had. I allowed John's parents to destroy what we had. I allowed them to dictate how I should feel, instead of focusing on the love John and I shared. And now, thanks to the kindness of a stranger, that's no longer happening, and I can finally say my goodbyes to John. And while I still miss him, now I know that there was something bigger than us being together. John was destined for something greater, even if doing so meant he had to die.

Am I over his death? Not at all.

Am I over my guilt? Not at all.

However, I can see a faint light at the end of the tunnel, and I really hope with Samuel's help, I can get to the other side less broken than I am now so that I can make John proud of me.

I still feel like I'm betraying John, but I can't stop feeling Samuel's arms around me, his light kisses on my hair, and his body wrapped around mine, as if he wanted to protect me from the outside world but also from my internal struggles.

In his arms, I had the best night's sleep of my life after John.

Most of my guilt right now is coming from allowing another man to enter my thoughts, wanting to have what I had with John with another man. Is it too early to notice someone that's not John? Is it too early to want someone's arms around me? Is it too early to feel the need of another body against mine?

I look around at our house, and now the place is not as dark as it was before. Sometimes, I hear John's laugh, his I love yous. Those moments make me cry, because he's no longer here and I won't hear them again until we reunite in the afterlife. It will take time to live with whatever happened, but I'm glad I'm taking steps in the right direction.

I'm tackling one room at a time, but I'm still unable to enter our room. That's still too painful. I tried after we came back from seeing Ian, but I could only place my hand on the doorknob.

I decided yesterday to clean the place, as if cleaning our house will bring peace and clarity. I want to recreate what we had.

There had been a moment, more than a moment, where I wished I could forget what we had, so that I could live again. Now, I want to cherish it.

My phone on the counter brings Samuel back to the forefront of my mind. I pick it up and send him a text. I never got to thank him for what he did.

Hi. How is your leg? I wanted to thank you. For everything.

I press send even if it sounds lame. But that's what I am. John was my first real relationship. He was my light in the darkness, the man who saved me, even from myself, the man who gave me a home, and the man who taught me what love is.

I keep my phone close because I need something only Samuel can give, and I'm hoping to find more people who've received John's organs. I lift my eyes to the sky in prayer to the man above. I'm asking to have what I need without fighting, to have what I need handed to me for once. To finally get instead of always giving.

But my phone stays stubbornly silent, and in my heart, I know nothing will come for free once again. I will have to pay for my desires, for my need to be free, and for my need to be happy. I only hope that this time I won't be destroyed just to say goodbye to the man I love.

I return my focus to cleaning, and every time I find something of us, I place it to the side, but only after treasuring it in my hands. Absorbing all the good memories they bring, even if in doing so, I cry more and more.

When my phone rings, I'm sobbing so much I can't even see who's calling. I answer, knowing it's likely one of those cold calls that pester me daily, but a deep voice says my name instead.

"Ro."

Or the version of my name I'm starting to like very much. Maybe even too much. I'm glad he's not here because I couldn't have hidden what his voice and my name on his lips do to me.

"Sam." I reply with the nickname I have for him, but I'm not sure if I did something wrong by calling him that when the line goes silent.

"I'm sorry I couldn't reply to your text. I was . . ." He stops, and I wish I could see his face, especially when he changes the subject. "We need to meet." His voice has a new edge that my brain finds strange, but my body seems to like a lot. Then John's face appears in my mind, and everything I'm feeling chills me to the bone.

"Sure," I say. But I can't meet him here. I can't have him here, where John and I had our life together.

"Let's meet at the café near your house. I'll be there in thirty minutes." The call ends and I look at the phone, but I'm unable to see anything, because more tears are filling my eyes. A mix of guilt, and of wanting more, makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong every step I take.

Putting the phone down, I walk to my room and into the bathroom. I quickly undress, and then I'm in the shower, where I can let the tears fall, hidden by the water. When I step out of it, my tears are gone and I'm ready to listen to everything Samuel has to say.

One thing I'm not ready for?

Seeing him again.