Chapter 43 #2
“Can we have two vegan stroopwafels, please?” he asks, then switches back to Dutch.
The girl mentions Joan. That must be their connection. She looks about Joan’s age, too.
Out of nowhere, Joan’s voice echoes in my head: Tom introduces me to his friends, I bring my girlies to Tom.
“Girlies.” I nearly choke on the word.
I glance between them. It looks friendly. Still, something feels heavy inside me. Every time he talks to a young, attractive woman, my mind runs ahead of me. With the number of people who greet him like this, it’s easy to imagine he’s worked his way through half the city.
Nonsense, I know that. I should erase those thoughts.
Tom wouldn’t have brought me here if he had history with her. Neither of us wants a repeat of this morning’s disaster.
A warm paper packet lands in my hands.
“Here you go. I checked with her, just to be safe. It’s absolutely vegan.”
I take off my gloves. The smell of caramel and spice reaches my senses as I open it.
“I can handle small amounts of lactose. It’s more the anxiety that kicks in.”
Tom bumps his shoulder into mine. “You don’t have to explain, I’ve got you.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes gleam. I don’t think he has any idea how much taking those little worries away means to me.
The girl hands him his stroopwafel and gives me a quick smile.
“Enjoy Amsterdam.”
We say our goodbyes and head down the street. The first bite is pure bliss.
“So good, Sapphire. Thanks for bringing me here.”
I groan softly and take another bite. When I finish mine, I notice Tom hasn’t touched his. He’s folding and unfolding the blue napkin instead.
I was right. Something’s off.
“Tell me, where is that pretty smile of yours?”
He gives it to me then; he always does when I ask for it.
“I could open my invisible notebook, ask a few probing questions in my therapist voice. You’d pour your heart out, become mildly touch-starved, and eventually tell me I’m full of shit while landing on my shoulder anyway. I know you like the roleplay.”
“Fucking hell, Yosh.” Tom drags his hand down his face, shaking his head. “I’ve created a monster.”
It lightens his mood, and that’s what I was after.
Let's see what comes back for me.
“Let me start by saying you have a very comfortable shoulder. It's so soft with just the right muscle tightness.” He lets out a feral noise before taking a first bite from his stroopwafel. Then he breaks it in two, giving me one half. I won't say no to that, I’ll deal with the sugar crash later.
“Okay. There’s something I want to tell you.” He licks a drop of syrup from his thumb. “But it’s probably best if I show you. It’s nearby.”
“Lead the way.”
“I might need that shoulder later on.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Well…” Tom offers a cynical smile that disappears too fast. “As serious as a heart attack.”
We round the corner, leaving the tourist area behind.
It’s quieter here, no canals to cross. We take a narrow alley, and after a few minutes, we step into an open square.
There are several bars and what looks like the entrance to a club.
It’s clearly a place that comes alive at night. Now, during the day, it’s just us.
We stop in front of a small eatery. Grilled meat. It smells incredible. I look up: Tarik’s Shawarma Place.
“Here it is,” he whispers.
I glance at the red-and-green storefront, then back at him. “What’s here?”
“This is where my heart stopped.”
I stay quiet, giving him space. There’s a lot moving through his head. He lets out a bitter laugh and looks at me.
“It’s surreal, standing here with you. I never could’ve imagined this.”
I hold his hand. “I’m glad I’m here with you. With you and your beating heart.”
“I really thought it was over. I even had something like a near-death experience, I think? I was back in Scotland. I saw Jay. Then I was free-falling, and Emily came for me. At least The Ring version of her. First she strangled me, then a pond of black tar dragged me under. It wasn’t the light at the end of the tunnel like they say, it was pure horror. ”
His words intrigue me. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t. Near-death experiences have always fascinated me. I’ve read essays, even medical perspectives from coma specialists. The way he describes it? It's nothing like the stories and it sounds terrifying.
“I never want to go through that again.”
He rests his hand on the doorknob, takes a deep breath, and steps inside. I follow.
The place is empty, a bit dark with the early dusk settling in. There’s a man behind the counter. He tears a long receipt from the register, then scribbles something on a slip of paper.
“We’re closed…”
That doesn't stop Tom.
The man looks up, and the second he sees Tom, his whole face lights up. He comes around the counter with his arms wide. They clasp hands and pull each other into a rough hug, their Dutch a mix of fast overlapping words.
Tom switches to English, the man following suit.
His eyes land on me. He offers his hand with the same warmth.
“Tarik,” he says.
“Yosh. Nice to meet you, Tarik.”
Five minutes later, we’re sitting at a high table with a cup of steaming hot Turkish tea. It’s served in a beautiful traditional silver-plated tea set.
“It only comes out when the family from Izmir visits,” Tarik says, then grips Tom’s shoulder
“This fucker almost died in my shop.” Tarik ruffles Sapphire’s curls. They’re close. No doubt about it.
“So I heard. Were you there when it happened?”
“Yeah.” Tarik nods. “It was just after midnight. The place was packed. Tom used to stop by every weekend for a kebab, never before three in the morning.” He glances at him. “But that night, you came early. That stayed with me.”
He shrugs. “Other than that? Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s always some crazy shit going on in the Amsterdam party scene.”
Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “Could you tell me what happened? It’s all just fragments in my head.”
“My cousin found you on the floor. We dragged you into the storage room so you could sober up. I called Jay to come get you.”
Tarik shakes his head. “The place was insane. I had a kitchen to run, so I left you alone for ten minutes. I wanted to wait for Jay and his KGB bodyguard, but something felt off, so I went back. Good thing I did. You were turning blue like a damn Viagra pill.”
“Fucking hell.” Tom squeezes my hand under the table.
“My cousin called the ambulance. I was on the floor doing CPR, freaking out, the whole thing. You’re lucky I took that free first-aid course the government offered to business owners.”
Tom’s face is pale, one hand pressed against his mouth as he listens, the other still holding mine.
“Thank God you didn’t end up at the pearly gates that night. Can you imagine this place crawling with cops all weekend? That would’ve been a financial disaster.”
He smacks Tom between the shoulder blades. Tarik’s laugh is loud, shameless, and impossible not to catch. Before I know it, we’re laughing with him.
I can picture the two of them together on any normal weekend: eating, laughing, trashing each other.
“ Kidding, bro. Can’t afford to lose my best customer. Then again, you stopped coming anyway.”
Tom seems a little more at ease. Tarik’s comedy storytelling is taking the weight off. They both weaponise humour when things get too real. Still, watching your friend nearly die, and being the one to perform CPR, I know that’s something that will stay with you forever.
I’m sorry, Tarik,” Tom says. “I went to a recovery resort in Avalon. I’m still working on myself, midnight visits are over.”
Tarik slams his palm down on the table. Cups rattle, tea splashing out.
“No way! I’m proud of you, man!”
Tom offers his friend a small smile, like all the battles he needed to fight mean nothing. I’ve seen some of them. I know they do.
I can’t stop beaming at my Sapphire. The fact that he’s sitting here at all, back in this place after everything, does something to me. He’s so strong. So fucking attractive it's unreal.
“Thanks, Tarik. For everything.”
He closes his eyes and turns toward me. When he lifts his lashes, I catch that blue fire in his eyes. I hold his gaze, letting him read everything I’d whisper in his ear if we were alone: I see you. I’m here. You did it.
Watching him now, I want to believe none of this was random. That there was a thread running through it all, pulling him exactly where he needed to be.
As the legend goes, Avalon is the island you go to when you need to heal. I needed to go to Avalon to heal.
Tom’s journey to Avalon had begun right here; mine began four years ago, on a bridge in Portland.
By then, the pills had stopped working. The numbness was thinning, and whatever they could no longer give me, I started chasing in my head; the image of drifting somewhere beyond everything. Somewhere past Avalon, somewhere quiet.
Safe in Paul’s arms.
His lips against my hair. The weight of his warmth around me. His voice promising there would be no more demons in my head. Just the two of us, held in something softer than air. A transcendent place, what I told myself was paradise.
My index finger had already lifted from the metal bar when two officers grabbed me and dragged me back. I remember thrashing. Crying. Begging them to let me go.
I’ll never forget the moment one of them bent close to my ear while I lay cuffed on the concrete and whispered, “Not today, brother.”
When I looked up, I saw why he’d said it. He must have seen the dog tags hanging next to the onyx on my chest.
I saw the veteran’s tattoo just above his collar, inked in the exact same place Paul used to have his.
That changed everything. It felt like a sign from the universe, as if Paul was reaching through it to remind me I wasn’t alone. That this wasn’t how my story was meant to end.
I still want to believe that. That Paul is part of the universe now, guiding me. Maybe he even sent Tom my way. And I’m glad things unfolded the way they did. I had to learn how to stand on my own feet again before I could offer my heart to someone else. So did Tom.
Being here with him feels like the confirmation I didn’t know I needed.
He’s ready.
And so am I.