Page 20 of Samuel's Heart

“Why do I need clothes?” I ask. But then I get tangled in all the questions I have that need answers, and I dish them out like a machine, one after the other.

“Where are we going? Are we staying the night? When am I meeting this person? Can I at least have their name?” By the time I’m done, I’m panting, and Samuel is looking at me like I’ve grown a couple more heads. I’m better now though, as if vomiting all my questions has settled some of the anxiety created by the unknown situation and having to trust someone I don’t know at all.

The sound of the tyres going over the line has Samuel looking back at the road. But as soon as he’s sure we’re not about to have an accident, he sends a dirty look my way.

“Sorry,” I say, because even without words, he’s right; I should have taken a couple of breaths between questions. And maybe given him the chance to reply before asking the next one.

“We’re spending a couple of days there. And before you ask where‘there’is, I’ll tell you.” He pauses, probably trying to remember all the questions. I don’t interrupt even if I’m eager to know more.

“We’re heading to Manchester and staying for a couple of days. We can’t just get there and knock at his door. We’ll have to watch his movements and try to find the best moment to get close. Her name is Joanna.” He takes a long breath, maybe to recover from the long speech—the longest he’s ever had with me, anyway.

“For more information, you’ll have to wait until we’re there. Travel time should be around four hours, but with traffic, it could be longer than that. We should stop somewhere for lunch and coffee at some point.”

Wow, he’s on a roll, sharing so much information with me. It’s like I’m finally part of this. Also, his voice is soothing, and it’s helping my too-wired body and mind to relax.

“Have a nap,” he says, glancing my way. “You need to be at your best if you don’t plan on scaring the man.”

He’s right. I look like I’ve been run over, and I don’t only mean my clothes. I should have made more of an effort. Maybe, while we wait for the right moment to approach Joanna, I can find something better to wear than the old jeans and tee I’ve brought with me. I should have gone back upstairs at the double look Samuel sent my way when he picked me up.

I lean back on the seat and close my eyes. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, but I want to try, because I want to be closer to myold self when I meet John again. I don’t want to keep worrying him about my half-lived life. I want him, wherever he is right now, to be proud of me.

I won’t be able to let go until I can ask for forgiveness. If what they say is true, and it’s my fault that he died, I’ll need to go down on my knees and apologise, tell him how sorry I am to have stolen his life, and how sorry I am he met me.

I shake those thoughts out of my head because they’ll only lead to anxiety, and I won’t sleep.

I jump at the sound of the radio being turned on, and my body straightens of its own accord. Samuel’s hand on my chest pushes me down against the seat, and under his warm touch, I don’t fight. I’m not sure if it’s because of how tired I am, or because his touch speaks of sunny days, laughter, and the sound of insects buzzing around.

I’m losing my mind.Am I losing it?

I’m lulled to sleep by the movement of the car, the pallid sun shining on me, the sweet music coming from the radio, and Samuel’s voice humming as he sings along. Thoughts of my miserable, lonely life are pushed aside, thanks to the imposing presence sitting next to me.

People talking around me wake me up and I sit upright, trying to remember where I am, or why I’m here. Turning my head to the left, I find Samuel, eyes trained on the world around us, radio off, and silence filling the car. It looks like he’s waiting for me to wake up.

He seems aware of everything around him, and as soon as I move, his gaze lands on me. He doesn’t smile, but his features seem less angular—I’d say softer, but there’s nothing soft abouthim. He’s all hard planes of corded muscle, thick veins running along his arms, and big hands.

My breath catches as the thoughts strike like lightning bolts in my brain. Me, him, his hands, and his body. I push away the vision of those hands playing with my body, as if playing a harp. Missing his hand on my chest is like an ache that is always present, but the guilt of wanting someone that’s not John eats at my insides, as if acid has been dropped on top.

“Let’s eat something,” Samuel says, opening the door and walking towards the services. He stops in front of the sliding doors because I’m still in the car, trying to shake away the sleep and those inconvenient thoughts.

I scramble out of the car when he taps his foot on the pavement as if his patience is running thin. I stretch when out of the car, trying to unclench the unused muscles. His eyes following every movement make my body tingle with awareness.

I walk over, pretending to look around, but instead, I can’t keep my eyes away from him. I’m not sure why he’s having this effect on me right now. We’ve been together before, and nothing happened. Maybe it’s the car, the proximity, or his hand on me.

Why can’t I stop thinking about his hands? Of course, my gaze goes there.

“What do you fancy?”

“Just a sandwich and a Coke.” Since John passed away, I’ve not been a big eater. We used to cook together, or I would cook for the two of us. Many dinners were spent on the sofa, so close we were one, watching TV and feeding each other. So in love, we couldn’t stay away for an entire day.

Now, I’m alone and looking at someone who’s not John with lascivious thoughts. A day like this was bound to happen, but I’d hoped I would have made peace with John’s death before looking at someone else. I thought I was safe because, before meeting Samuel, everyone had a blank face. They were like ghosts, an invisible presence floating around me that I could ignore.

Samuel has been different, his presence always a solid entity, taking over and filling spaces in my life—and in me—that were empty for three years.

I sit at a table, waiting for Samuel to come back with the food. I glance around, but my eyes always wander to the man I’m with. He stands above everyone, and he’s not even trying.

Once he’s back, I dig into my food to avoid getting caught looking. However, I’m not hungry, so I play with it instead of eating.

“You should eat something.”

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