My Distraction

Chapter Eleven

April

Two days ago, I felt excited. I felt happy. It would be fair to say I was overwhelmed by emotions. All sorts of such
emotions flew out the window the moment Jack fired that text back at me. It took over two months to even get close to locating the needed information to find the one person that had put my life in a state of mess.

That person stood in front of me looking as though in angst. It was something of the past. Something that hurt deeply and left a scar. It was easy to tell, since I have dealt with patients who have also been hurt like this. He asked me a question through his text. One that was relatively simple to answer. I could answer it in my head, but to compose it into words was another thing entirely.

So, Why was I here?

Good question.
In simplicity, I would say I was here because I wanted to thank Jack for saving my life. For giving me a second chance to live. Sometimes, I felt he gave me a reason to live. The problem is, I do not know exactly what the reason was.

That was the answer in my head. The first thing that came to mind. But deep down, my heart rang out in denial. It said the opposite. Maybe it was those eyes that entrapped me or it was the fact that I could not understand and study him. Truth be told, I myself thought it was just a bizarre crush. One that should never had happened.

I raise my head to look up at Jack letting those words chant in my head like a mantra. Those words that formed into a question being;

Why was I here?

My eyes behold a hurt Jack. The muscles of his body seem tense like they are up in defence.

So, this it. I expect to be thrown out of this house like nothing but an intruder. Besides, right now I believe I am.
My eyes follow Jack's movement as he breathes in a plentiful of air and lets it out in one breath causing his chest to rise up and down in contraction.With that, his eyes return from a much more darker shade of blue to his normal piercing royal blue eyes.

In fact, he gives me a small smile before leading me further into his house as he offers me a seat. I never expected this. Normally, even an average person would expect for one who had something from the past brought up to be in a fit of rage or probably display a nasty tantrum.

But now, here I am trying to sit cautiously as I let my eyes travel about on the interior decoration of this place I am sure Jack calls home. I let my eyes saunter about on Jack figure as he types in a text on his phone.

Still, I cannot figure out why he prefers to text than to talk. When I was searching for his information I never saw a pointer as to why he does not talk. Now that I think about it I have never heard him talk. He looks more homely than even the first time I stepped in. I hear the familiar ping that indicates a new message from my phone.

'I'm deaf.'

'It's why I don't talk.'