Page 104 of The First Time I Saw You
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘What took you so long?’ she asks.
‘I got lost.’
Week Thirty-Six
Sophie
‘Hot Irish Samuel, we meet at last!’ Helen stands on her tip-toes and throws her arms around his neck. ‘Mmm, you smell good.’ She takes a deep sniff.
‘Hello? I’m standing right behind you,’ Greg grumbles as Helen releases Samuel.
‘I smell like baby-puke,’ I add, as I reach for Helen, giving her a squeeze. I pull away as she looks past me into the cottage. Bean shouts from his play-gym that he wants some attention and her feet follow the sound, a deep breath exhaled and a smile on her lips.
‘Good to see you again.’ Greg slaps Samuel on the back, then realises what he has said and does a weird ‘sorry’ expression at me.
‘You too,’ Samuel replies and steps forward to shake his hand but stands on Greg’s toes instead. ‘Shite, sorry, mate.’
‘Oh! He’s ginger!’ Helen laughs from the lounge as we follow her. ‘He didn’t look that ginger on the photo, he’s properly orange, like he’s . . .’ but she’s grinning and reaching down for him.
‘Strawberry blond,’ I say with a yawn.
‘Ginger,’ Samuel insists as Helen sways back and forth, looking around the lounge, tapping Bean’s back.
‘Greg, give them the present,’ Helen commands. I carry a tray and put it on the sideboard, noticing, not for the first time, how different my body feels without Bean’s bump. Greg passes a blue gift-wrapped parcel to Samuel, who continues to sit in the same position; he hasn’t noticed that the present has been passed to him and a lump rises in my throat.
‘Samuel, can you open it while I sort out the drinks?’
He jumps slightly and reaches out to where Greg places it into his palm. He unwraps it carefully and I can see in the set of his mouth that he is worried he is going to do something wrong. Samuel drops the paper and gift tag to the floor and lifts the lid off the box.
‘Sophie, it might be best if you—’
‘It’s more for you, Samuel, to be honest. Go on, take it out.’
His eyebrows dip in a V shape as he tries to use the last of his sight to help him. Helen smiles at me and shifts Bean further up her shoulder.
Samuel’s fingers flutter over a square-shaped piece of plastic. I raise my eyebrows at Helen as Samuel begins to smile.
‘It’s a3D print of Bean’s scan, so Samuel can see what it looked like. We wanted to give him back a bit of what he missed.’
‘Thank you,’ he says, grinning. His fingers slowly run over each contour, eyebrows creasing in concentration, as he gets back part of the time we lost.
‘So, have we decided on a name yet?’ Samuel strokes the picture. I watch as his hand follows the edge of the sofa, trailing along the arm until he finds the table next to it, carefully placing the photo down. I shake my head, trying to keep control of the emotion lodged in my chest. Samuel stares at the floor for a moment and then nods.
‘What are you nodding at, Samuel? There isn’t one name that we both agree on . . .’
He reaches down, runs his fingers against the carpet until he grabs the wrapping paper and the tag with Helen’s handwriting on. ‘Bean’ is written across the front but the card is folded in the middle, the ‘a’ hidden from view, lurking deep within the crease.
‘Ben,’ he reads.
‘Ben?’ I repeat. ‘It’s perfect!’
‘Did you just fist-bump each other?’ Helen interrupts. I slide myself under his arm.
‘We did . . . it’s taken us a while to perfect that and no mistake.’ Samuel kisses the top of my head.
I watch Samuel as he sleeps. I watch every movement beneath the paper-thin eyelids with their map of tiny veins. I watch as the crease by the side of his mouth deepens when he turns towards me, his arm throwing itself around my waist, pulling me towards him.
