Page 47 of The First Time I Saw You
‘That is all you did . . . now tell me, where is the crime in that?’
Her shoulders lift a little, her arm unwraps itself from around her waist and her spine straightens back into shape, a smile beginning to form on her lips as she takes another sip. Her body expands, filling the cracks and holes, beginning to fix what was broken.
Week Eighteen
Samuel
I’m free. At least that’s what it feels like. The brace has been removed, my ligaments are fixed; I can move my head up and down, my cast has been removed and I can walk easily.
This new-found freedom has helped me, for a small time at least. I can see more of the world now I can lift my head up and I’m embracing this freedom with a trip to the pub for lunch. Walking here wasn’t too bad. This is a place I’m familiar with: I know where to cross the road; I know that there is a step going up into the beer garden because I fell down it on my eighteenth birthday. I’m trying to push aside the feelings of fear that keep welling up. How will it be, for instance, when my sight goes if I don’t know that the pub I’m about to walk into has that step? How will I cross the road without getting hit by a car? Here, there are very few crossings with flashing green men; I don’t need them yet because I know where I’m going, but how will I know when I cross a road back in DC? I know that there are flashing lights at some of the crossings, but I can’t remember there being a beeper on all of them . . . is there braille? Will I have to learn braille? What about if I go on holiday to, I don’t know, Crete? Will there be sounds to let me know when I can cross? I doubt it.
I go to the bar and order a pint then take it out into the garden, remembering to step up and making it to one of the picnic tables outside. The sun is warm on my back as I open my laptop, plug in my headphones and type into the search bar. I’m going back over every step that we have tried so far. I’ve come here to research without the worried looks of my family. After the phone call they have acted different about my search for Sophie. Sarah thinks she hung up on me, Mam thinks she hung up on me and Da thinks I need to sow my oats a bit before my white stick puts girls off – before I don’t know if I’ve pulled a looker or an absolute troll.
‘Mr McLaughlin!’ Mam had shouted.
‘Don’t you be getting on your high horse, Mrs M, I’m only saying it like it is. He can’t go feeling the girl, now can he? How’s he going to know if she’s a beast?’
The conversation had continued but I couldn’t help but think that Da had a point. How would I know?
I’m double-checking the Fast Fix garages in Shropshire, the robot voice reeling off the list. I take the headphones off as I try another search, but the reading of the web address drives me insane. I’m about to replace the headphone when I hear my name.
‘Sam?’ I turn my head towards a woman’s voice that sounds familiar; she is saying goodbye to a couple of others, air-kissing and promising to speak soon. Parts of her friends are soon hidden in the mist as she walks towards me and I shift my head to try and get a glimpse of her face. The tunnel will soon claim my ability to see whole faces when they are close up; instead I will see segments.
‘Isabella?’ I smile up at her and hope she can’t tell how strange it still feels to have a person’s face surrounded by pitch-black, almost as if it is being focused through a camera lens. She looks good, but then that was always half of the problem. The other problem of our relationship was how similar we were and how little patience we had with each other. I was a mess when she finally ended it, though. Long legs, tiny waist, big boobs and an insatiable appetite, for sex as well as food.
‘Long time no see.’
I bite back a witty retort as she sits down opposite. ‘May I?’ she asks. I presume she means to sit down, but she has moved too quickly to the right for me to catch her face. I do catch a glimpse of her long brown legs when she re-arranges her skirt as she sits. ‘I thought I was meeting my friends for lunch, but it turns out it was just a Diet Coke before a trip to the gym. Is it even worth the trip to the pub if all you’re going to have is a Diet Coke? A little birdy told me you were back, so, how are you? I hear you were in an accident?’ She reaches over through the shadows and touches the scars along my cheek, making me jump. I’d forgotten how physical she always was. ‘Sorry, does it hurt?’ she asks, taking her hand away and holding her straw between her teeth.
‘No, not really, not any more. It’s good to see you,’ I say sincerely.
‘You too.’
‘So, what’s new with you? Are you married? Kids?’
‘Christ, no.’ I hear her rummaging in her bag, and I take a sip of my drink as the smell of cigarette smoke fills the air. I watch her lips as she blows out a plume of smoke. ‘I’m no good at relationships as you well know.’
‘Yeah,’ I smile at her, ‘I remember.’
‘You’re not great at it either as I recall, we were always arguing.’
‘That doesn’t mean I’m not good at relationships, I’m just no good at relationships with you.’
‘Fair point. So who is she?’ I watch her suck on the end of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke and taking another sip of her drink.
‘Who?’
‘The girl who you are good at relationships with.’
‘Ah . . . it’s a long story,’ I say, running my finger around the rim of my glass.
‘I’d best order some lunch then, I’m starving.’
‘Some things never change.’ I smile at her.
‘Why do you keep looking at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
