TOUCH OF BITTERSWEET (Touch Trilogy #2)

Prologue

He halted at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn green. He wiggled his toes in his worn-out shoes, his feet sore and tender. The shoes' soles were so tattered they were little more than a slightly tough layer of fabric.

The walk there had been long and extraneous. How many kilometres had it been? He couldn't remember. Hitchhiking his way there hadn't really been an option. People didn't tend to stop for someone that looked like him. He couldn't blame them, he wouldn't trust someone who did stop.

Even at that moment, just standing at the crosswalk, people were uncomfortable with his presence. Most tried not to show it but he could tell. The drifting away while pretending to be distracted, the constant looks that were far less discrete than they thought... Other people were more straightforward, with sneering looks and wide steps the other way.

A woman standing beside him scrunched her nose as if catching a trace of a foul odour. He tried to sniff himself without giving it away. Did he smell? He had used the public showers that morning, but he had been walking for hours and it was peak summer, the sun burning even his dark skin.

The pedestrian light turned green and everyone stepped into the road. Each step made his feet and legs throb in pain, but that was nothing compared to the thumping in his chest.

Almost. He was almost there.

He followed through a small road, putting aside his clenching jaw and peeking at his surroundings. So many things had changed, but he still recognized it, even all those years later.

Almost there. It was just past the corner.

Please still be there, please still be there, please still be there.

He passed the corner of the building into the main road and immediately halted. Someone behind him didn't notice soon enough, bumping into him. There may have been murmured insults but he wasn't listening. Because the building was still there. The ground floor was different, a restaurant had opened there, but the building was there and the top floor still looked like a house from the outside.

That was already more than what he was expecting, more than what he deserved, but then his gaze fell on the restaurant's sign and his breath caught in his throat. 'Linda's Kitchen' was written in big letters, yellow gold on deep red.

Linda.

It had to be her. It was too much of a coincidence not to be her.

His feet were rooted to the ground, staring at the building. He felt his lips turn in a smile as his heart swelled with pride he didn't deserve to feel. Linda had done it. She had opened her own restaurant. Of course she had, she was fire and courage personified.

He stood there, on the other side of the road, just looking at the restaurant, watching the people who went in and out. Nostalgia warped around his solar plexus in a thin, sharp, painful thread, yet he didn't want to look away. After forcing himself to be away for so long, his heart longed to take in as much as possible, make up for the lost time.

A young couple came out of the restaurant, talking between themselves. He followed them with his gaze, smiling to himself even though his chest filled with sorrow for a different time, long gone. Just a few seconds later, the door opened again. His attention fell on the entrance, waiting for the next clients who were leaving. The person stepped outside and the air was ripped from his lungs.

That dark hair pinned back in a ponytail, the small-statured body that moved around with enough confidence to move mountains, the sweetness in that smile...

Linda. He would recognize her anywhere.

She called the young couple down the sidewalk, raising what looked like a wallet in her hand when they looked back. The young guy tapped his pockets before jogging back to her. They talked for some time, but he could only look at Linda.

The time had passed for her too, but she was just as beautiful as the day they met. Tears flooded his eyes, fogging his vision but he hurried to wipe them away. He could not lose a second of her. She looked healthy, happy.

The couple said their goodbyes and went on their way. He silently begged them not to go, to keep her there, talking to them where he could see her. Luckily for him, instead of going inside right away, she turned to the menu posted on the large windows to check something.

The door opened again, but he didn't pay attention, eyes locked on her. The figure, however, walked towards her, into his line of vision. He studied the young man who was now talking to her. Dark hair, tall with a broad back and a wide smile. He must have been around nineteen or twenty years old.

Realization punched him in the gut so hard he had to step back. That boy looked like him. He looked like him.

Once again, the door opened and out came another young man. His hair was just as dark, his skin just as tinted and almost as tall as the other, although his frame was a bit narrower. The biggest difference he could see from afar was the pair of glasses on the latter.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It had to be them.

The three of them talked, Linda laughing at something the taller one had said with a light tap on his arm. The one with the glasses showed a slight smile, saying something to what the first one nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

A mix of happiness and the deepest sadness he had ever felt twisted his heart. There was no fighting his tears now, as he watched them. They were so grown-up, so happy and they resembled him so much.

A car passed by, windows down and music blasting, catching the attention of the three, making them turn in his direction. He scurried back to the narrow road he had come from, back slammed against the wall. His breathing was erratic and his heart banged against his ribcage.

He couldn't let them see him. Not like that. They deserved better than him, so much better.

A few seconds passed before he allowed himself to peek around the corner against. They were gone.

His teeth met his cracked lips as the remaining tears rolled down his cheeks. That couldn't be all. He needed to see more of them, he needed to hear them clearly, to talk to them. But not like that, they deserved better.

He looked down at himself - the dishevelled, worn-out clothes, the pale skin and emaciated body – and, right there, in that very moment, he made a decision.

They deserved better. So he would become better.