It's Kind of a Coincidence

Bella had a kidney transplant when she was sixteen years old. Two years later, she is able to meet her donor, even if she doesn't really want to. Her donor is Tregory Jones. What Bella wasn't counting on was for him to be a beautiful, just out of his teens, boy with the personality of a god.


33. The letter.

"Bella, can I talk to you?" my mom asks, walking into the kitchen.

"Jessica is already talking to me." I say bluntly, not wanting the conversation.

"No I'm not, Bella. Were sitting in silence." Jess frowns.

I glare at her, giving her a look that says my boyfriend is dead, give me a break. My mom sits down next to Jess, across from me, never the less. She sighs, giving me this look that is so full of pity that I don't want.

"Belle, we really need to talk about what has happened." she sighs.

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't have to disregard it like that. Just say we need to talk about Trey's death."

"Okay, well, we need to talk about Trey's death."

"I don't want to talk about Trey's death."

"It will be good for you." she reaches across the counter to take my hand, but I pull it away. "I understand what you're going through."

"You understand?" I raise an eyebrow, sceptically. "What, are you seriously referring to Dad's death?"

"Yes darling I am-"

I laugh, bitterly. "You've got to be kidding me."


"No!" I shout, standing up. "How dare you compare what Trey and I had, to you and my dad! How dare you!"

She frowns, genuinely oblivious to what she's done. What she's suggested.

"I never knew my dad!" I shout. "But I know that all you did was argue! Jess' earliest memory was you and dad screaming at each other! That's all that grandma told me about you guys, that's all Jess can remember of him! So don't you dare compare that to me and Trey."

"Calm down." Jess frowns. 

"What is the point in it all?" I gasp, tears running down my face. "Why do we bother with love if all it does is end? It's a fucking sick game! You love someone and they either cheat on you, break up with you or die. Either way, you end up in tears and it hurts, okay?"

Jess and my mom stare at me in shock but I can't even stand to be in the same room as them anymore, so I run out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

I don't even know where I'm going, I'm just running. It's Saturday evening and all the couples are out around New York City which is painful to see because quite frankly, Trey and I should be amongst them.

I go straight up to our spot in the multistory car park and just sit there looking out. It's not even anywhere near time to watch the lights yet and there are still cars there, but I just sit there, crying and thinking.

For these entire two weeks, I have been so confused about the whole thing. At first, all I felt was grief. But then it started to get a bit too painful so I questioned it. I have spent hours thinking why is grief there. Why is it bad that he's dead. And I over thought it so much that it didn't feel so bad. But then it was even worse because I felt so much guilt. How could I not let this hurt?

Then I realised I was going to deep into this. I was trying to think of so many reasons it hurts if somebody you love dies, but the answer is simple, really. You love them and you want to spend time with them but you just can't. That's it. They're gone and they're never coming back and there is something about permanency that is truly terrifying.

I sit there for hours, just staring at the skyline and I don't even realise that it's pitch black and that all the cars have gone until I snap out of my daydream. I see that it's midnight and text Jess and my mom.

I'm safe, I'm okay, I'll be home tomorrow. I send them, feeling bad for shouting at my mom and probably worrying them.

I want to stay here and watch the lights come on, though it feels so wrong to do it without Trey. I guess I just have to appreciate the view for both of us. Sitting here for hours has made me notice that there are so many things I wish I could say to Trey but just can't.

So somewhere, in the midst of my fatigue and slightly post death craziness, I find my notebook in my bag with an old felt tip pen and write it all into a letter.


Dear Tregory Jones.

Who are you? That's what I asked myself when I heard that somebody was saving my life. Two years later, I got to meet the mysterious Tregory Jones but you were not who I thought you were and you soon became Trey to me.

I love you with all my heart and people will just write that off as an expression, but it's true. I do love you with everything in me. I don't like to think that my love is split and you get all of it because you were a very selfless person and wouldn't possibly accept it. Also, because you have introduced me to the most amazing things and people that deserve some love too, like running around New York in the rain and the way your eyes change colour.

I'm trying not to ramble in this letter, I swear. I'm trying to make it the best it can be because it's for you and I will never accept good enoughs, especially not for you. That being said, you always seemed to love it when I rambled. It was the most fascinating thing to you. Like when I talked about how I believe in coming back into another life after you die. You loved arguing against that but I sure as hell hope it's true because I know if it's not true, you won't get this letter. But if it is true, though you wouldn't remember your life as Tregory Jones as that's not how it works, you might pick up this letter. 

I imagine you'd be some suave business man in your early thirties, the kind who were so serious we had to laugh if we saw them. You would be on your way home from the office, on your way back to your big house and wife and kids and you would see this letter lying on the floor. You would pick it up out of curiosity and read it. The names Tregory and Bella and Dan would bring you flashbacks of college days under trees, your hands in my ridiculously rain soaked hair and kissing inside warm bedrooms during a thunderstorm. You would feel that little spark and put it down to nothing because this new businessman doesn't like to believe in nonsense like Tregory Jones secretly did.

Maybe all that just happened and you are a businessman reading this and ticking it off as nothing. Or maybe it didn't happen at all. Maybe this letter will just fly away and never be found. Maybe I'll be the only one who will ever remember these things but that's okay because at least they're not completely lost.

At least I'll remember it all. At least I will remember the feeling of your hands in my hair,  the one of a kind feeling of your lips on mine, your voice, the stupid yet intelligent debates we had and the magical way your eyes changed colour. I have these memories and they are what wake me up at four in the morning so I can go and see the New York Lights being turned on.

It might seem weird o do that and it does feel wrong being there without you, but the last thing I want is a life full of good enoughs. To avoid that, I need to feel alive and I know that I have never felt more alive than standing there with you watching that city wake up while nobody else did. There was something unbelievably magical about that moment being completely ours and that moment was the furthest thing from just good enough.

You deserve more than good enoughs, Trey. You really do.



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