Page 4 of Samuel's Heart

I follow him as if my life depends on it. When I place my ass on the chair, I’m less out of sync, and it’s as if I can think again.

What am I doing?The question runs and runs in my mind, making circles, but I can’t find an answer.

Could it be because he’s the first person to take an interest in me?

Since the accident, and after spending a few weeks in an induced coma because of the injuries from the car crash, my life has been spiralling into the ground. Even if I’ve tried to stay afloat all this time, I’m now close to letting go and sinking.

I’m ready to be in a place where John is with me. A place where someone is interested in what I do, how I feel, and in my life.

Right now, I’m a lone boat entrapped in a current that’s pushing me towards the rocks. I’m getting closer and closer, and once there I’m going to crash, and no one is going to be there to catch me. To save me.

Did I follow this stranger because he’s the first person to throw me a lifebuoy?

I don’t even know how we get to the coffee shop, but I’m sitting on a wooden chair when a cup of coffee appears in front of me, followed by sugar, milk, and a wooden stick to stir with, if I need to. Then the guy sits in front of me and everything I’ve done up until now becomes more real, and I blush under his scrutiny.

He’s as tall as me, but his body packs more muscle than mine. His black hair is shaved on the sides, and longer at the top. And it’s as if his hazel eyes are scrutinising me, trying to reach my soul.

“Thank you,” I say, and I blush even more when my words are all crumbled and incomprehensible.

“Are you feeling better?”

I nod, not trusting my voice to come out clear and strong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The way he asks questions sounds a bit professional, or as if he’s used to asking them and analysing whatever the other person is saying. This mannerism is totally in contrast with the warm light in his eyes. Because his eyes are looking at me as if they’re telling me to trust him.

Can I really trust a stranger when I could never trust anyone who should have loved me?

“I’m here if you need someone to talk to,” he says, leaning back in the chair and blowing on his drink, before taking a sip. The movement relaxes my frenzied brain.

“I lost someone,” I say, but then I pause because I don’t really know what happened.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His words carry an undertone of pain that calls to mine. Our pain feels similar, and it opens a door I’ve been trying to close since I woke up from the accident.

“It happened three years ago. I don’t remember much. One second we were driving, laughing, and impatient to be home. Then the next, I was in a hospital bed waking up from a coma. And then they told me the person in the car with me was dead.”

Alive one second, dead the next.

“That must have been brutal.”

I laugh, an ugly laugh, unable to contain the desperation inside me, the pain, the sorrow, and the rage.

“I couldn’t remember anything about the accident and, even today, what Idoknow is what they told me. It’s like my brain refuses to remember, to relive whatever happened that day. I need to remember because I can’t live with the idea that it was all my fault.”

“Accidents happen all the time, and they’re called accidents because they’re nobody’s fault. We’re all human and we can make mistakes. We live with them and try to do our best to make up for what we did wrong.”

It seems like he’s talking from experience, but I don’t ask, because he’s here for me, not to open his heart to a stranger clinging to him like the ivy clinging to a wall.

One day maybe I can return the favour.

“By the time I woke up and was able to be released from the hospital, the funeral was already done. I missed my chance to say my last goodbye.”

“That sucks. I know it’s not the same, but you can always go to his grave.” The way he suggests it, makes it seem like something he does himself.

“I don’t know where it is,” I say, expecting a surprised face, and I’m not disappointed.

“I assumed you were together.” The friendly face turns dark, as if his trust has diminished and he’s ready to walk away.

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