SOPHIA
The ease with which we slot back into each other’s lives surprises me. From that night, we spend every free moment together, and, over the next couple of weeks, I find myself spending more nights in Rocco’s bed than I do in my parents’ home.
I feel bad that I haven’t told him about my three-times-a-week trip to have dialysis, but I figure he hasn’t exactly asked either. He must notice the bandage on my arm that I never take off. Besides, it doesn’t affect him in any way. He’s at work during the times I spend at the hospital.
I’ve been there this afternoon, sitting in the dialysis unit with all the other patients. It’s still the start of my journey, really, and I’m at the stage where I appreciate how good I feel once I have the dialysis done—far better than I’d ever felt before I’d started it. But I see some of the patients here who’ve been on dialysis for a number of years and who’ve grown weary and frustrated by the process. When I look at them, I see my future, and sometimes it terrifies me.
Once I finish my three-hour session, I go straight to Rocco’s flat. He will have finished work by the time I arrive, and we’ll spend the evening doing what we do every evening—eating goodfood, watching television, and having sex. Our romance isn’t big or flashy, but I’ve discovered these simple things make me happy.
The moment he opens the door, I see something’s wrong. His face is pale, his eyes rimmed red, his jaw clenched tight as though he’s trying to swallow his emotion and keep it down.
“Rocco, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I just got a phone call. It’s my dad.”
My stomach drops, and I know what he’s going to say.
“He’s been found dead. They think it might have happened a few days ago.”
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” I move into him, wrap my arms around him, pulling his head against my shoulder. I kiss his temple as he trembles against me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I soothe him, trying to tell him it’s all right to give into the grief. He’s had a difficult, fractured relationship with his father, but that doesn’t change the fact the man was still his dad.
“I have to go home for a few days,” he says, peeling himself away from me. His eyes are red but still dry. “Will you come with me?”
I’ve only just had a session of dialysis, so I’ll be okay for a few days. “Of course. Whatever you need. When do we go?”
“As soon as possible, if that’s all right. I’ll book a couple of train tickets for us.” He scrubs his hand over his eyes and shakes his head. “Shit, there’s just so much to sort out.”
I take his hand. “I’ll help. I’ll do everything I can.”
“Thanks, Sophia.” He gives me a sad smile. “I’m glad the world conspired to throw us together again.”
“Me, too.”
“I can’t imagine doing this without you.”
I give him a sad smile. “I’m going to need to go back to my parents’ and pack a bag. Are you going to be okay without me for an hour or so?”
“Yeah, I can manage.”
I think of something. “Actually, don’t book that train. I’ll see if I can borrow one of their cars for a few days.”
His eyebrows lift. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s not as though either of them really has any place to be. They’ll be fine sharing one.”
Rocco nods. “I’ll grab some stuff and come with you now, then.”
I realise what that means. He’ll be coming back to my parents’ with me. But I can hardly say no, not when he’s this upset, and it isn’t as though my parents haven’t met him before. They just haven’t met this version of him. I told my mum about him having tattoos now, but that’s not the same as seeing them in person. But, more than worrying about my parents’ opinion of Rocco, I’m concerned they’ll mention something about my dialysis. I haven’t told him yet, and all he knows is that I just need regular treatment to keep my kidneys under control. I haven’t told him they both failed and now I’ll need a donor. I feel bad for not having told him, but all the reasons why I’d not contacted him after we’d moved ten years ago are still there. I worry I’ll end up holding him back, but I’ve also discovered love can be selfish, and I can’t stand the idea of having to give him up.
I can’t abandon him now, no matter what I think. Hopefully, my parents won’t say anything, but if they do, I’ll just have to deal with it. We’re both adults now. I don’t want to put any more on his plate, but I can’t change the way things are.
Rocco goes to shove a couple of changes of clothes and some toiletries into a bag. “Am I going to need a suit?” he asks. “What about the funeral? Shit, there’s too much to think about.”
“We can hire a suit there, if you need one,” I tell him. “It will all be fine.”
“I have no idea what sort of state the house is going to be in. I’m not even sure it’ll be liveable.”
