Love Is Blind (10 page)

Eric didn’t stay long.  We finished our sundaes and listened to the CD he’d brought me – the music was actually pretty good.  Then I sent him on his way so I could get some sleep before it was time to call Chris.  I set two alarms to make sure I’d wake up in time to talk to him before his eye surgery.

“Are you scared?” I asked a bit later
once I had Chris on the phone. 

He always insisted on calling me back if we anticipated taking for more than a minute or two.  He said he’d rather incur the cost of long distance calling than me.  I felt a bit guilty because I knew how expensive it was, but to be honest I was also relieved. 

I didn’t have extra money to spend on
anything
.  As it was, I’d barely be able to scrape enough together to cover my upcoming college tuition costs.  Not being able to hold down full-time summer work due to the community service order had nearly crushed (or at least postponed) my dream of going to college.  Thankfully, being extremely frugal and a little creative had come in handy and just barely saved the day.

As I spoke to Chris,
I could hear the tension in his voice.  I knew he was completely freaked out by what was ahead and how his life may or may not be changed.  I didn’t blame him.  I would have been too had our situations been reversed.

“The procedure itself doesn’t sound so bad,” he said.  “It irritates the eye some, but we’re not talking about a medieval torture chamber or anything.  It’s af
terwards that scares me.  What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you’ll find something else that does,” I said sensibly.
“Science is advancing all the time.  Technology is always improving.  Something will come along.”

He sighed.  “You’re right. 
At least I hope you are, and I hope it won’t take twenty years for the right technology to come along.  Anyway, I need to get my mind off things.  Tell me about your day?”

“I saw a guy projectile vomit at the hospital,” I informed him rather proudly.  “It looked like something out of a horror movie.  It was kind of cool, actually, until some
high strung woman in stilettos came strutting past, slipped in it and started screaming.  Then it was just downright hilarious.”

He snickered.  “Only you would find that funny.  Well actually, I would have had a hard time not laughing, too.  Those are the kinds of things I hope to be able to see…my life would be so much richer if only I could watch people projectile vomit,” he
lamented.  Then he added, “I love your twisted sense of humor, you weirdo.”

“I love your cheesy sense of humor, you lame-o.” 

“So what else is new?”

“Well, I officially have three days of candy striping left.  After that, my community service will be done, I won’t have a criminal record and I’ll be able to put this whole awful
mess of a year behind me.”

“Was the year really so awful?”

“No,” I replied immediately without even having to think about it.  “It started out awful but then I met you.  So all in all, I guess the year was actually pretty amazing.”

I don’t know why I didn’t tell him about Eric.  It wasn’t deliberate.  At least, I don’t think it was.  I guess it just didn’t strike me as important.  I was more focused on distracting Chris to keep his mind off of things than informing him about every little detail of my day.
  Besides, once you’ve opened with a projectile vomit story it can be a tough act to follow.

I’m pret
ty sure I did manage to calm Chris down some.  By the time we hung up, he was actually sounding rather cheerful, all things considered.  When I heard nothing but the dial tone ringing in my ear, I was suddenly aware of just how much I missed him.

He’d be home
the following Saturday if everything went well.  I’d see him then – and if everything went according to plan, he’d see me too.  Everything would change then…that much I knew.  What I wasn’t sure of was to what extent things would change.  I was both eagerly anticipating and intensely dreading Chris’s return.

I sat by the phone for most of the day.  At least, it felt like most of the day.  I tried to watch TV or read to pass the time, but I couldn’t concentrate.  All I could think about was Chris.  I was dying to know how he was doing and how things had gone.  Then
, finally, the phone rang.

“Chris?”
I demanded breathlessly as I fumbled for the phone. 

“Michelle,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.  “It worked.”

I couldn’t breathe.  “You can see?” I asked.

“Yeah, I can!  As soon as I sat up after the laser surgery I could tell that things looked different…clearer.  The surgeon said everything went smoothly and he’s expecting a lot more improvement as I recover over the next few days and weeks.  I – I’m numb.  I can’t even think straight, it’s so surreal.”

I was numb, too.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Chris told me.  “…Literally!  By the time I fly home my vision should be pretty
decent, I think.  I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.  I can’t wait to see you.  I’ll actually get to
see
you!  Oh God, Dr. Torje is a miracle worker.”

“Chris…”

“Are you crying?” he asked.

I smiled through my tears.  “I’m
just happy for you,” I told him, somehow managing to get the words out past the lump in my throat. 

I was a wreck.  Ever since Chris’s big news, I’d been an absolute mess.   And today he was coming home.  I’d been a bundle of nerves all day long, unable to eat or concentrate or even string together a coherent sentence.  My mind was racing a mile a minute and so was my pulse.

Do you ever wish your life had a pause button?  I did.  I wished time could just stand still for a while.  Things with Chris had been so good before he’d left.  Our relationship had been everything I ever could have wanted.  Now, in an instant, it was all about to change. 

I hated the unknown.  I hated the terror I felt inside.  Even though I felt like I’d gotten to know him and his character pretty well, the bullied little girl inside of me couldn’t help but wonder if he’d laugh or recoil in disgust once he got a good look at my face.

Before I left the house, I spent way too much time in front of the mirror.  I’m talking hours.  Usually I don’t take a lot of time with my appearance because I mean, does it matter if my hair is flat ironed or my outfit is stylish when all anybody is going to notice is the dreaded birthmark? 

That logic went out the window, likely thanks to my immense anxiety.  I messed with my hair for hours, trying in vain to style it so that it hung across the left side of my face.  I changed my outfit five times.  And the makeup – oh God, the makeup! 

I smeared on layer after layer of liquid foundation and concealer in a fruitless attempt to hide my birthmark.  It didn’t exactly help.  As usual, it made it look less red, but it also made it look cakey and uneven, like my face was melting, boiling from the inside out.  Trust me, it wasn’t an attractive look.  If anything, it just made me look worse.  I washed it off and started over.

After numerous unsuccessful attempts at making my birthmark disappear, I gave up.  I had to – if I didn’t get going soon, I wouldn’t get to the airport in time to meet Chris’s flight. 

Maybe, I thought to myself wryly, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

As the cab approached the airport I couldn’t help but feel like I was walking into the lion’s den.  My heart pounded in my chest as I prepared to be crucified.  I was literally shaking, my knees knocking together as I stood there by the arrivals gate waiting and watching. 

Then I saw them.  Chris was wearing dark sunglasses and gazing around in wonder, trying to take everything in.  A broad smile was on his handsome face, those dimples I adored on full display.  His happiness made me want to jump up and down in glee.  I briefly forgot how to breathe.  I felt my face grow hot as I watched him move.  Seeing Chris in the flesh just reminded me how deeply I’d fallen in love with him. 

Then I scolded myself for being so careless with my heart.

Chris was pushing his mother in her wheelchair.  She had suitcases piled on her lap – far more suitcases than she’d left for Norway with.  I couldn’t even see her face.  I only knew she was there because her legs were sticking out!  Apparently she’d gone a bit souvenir crazy on the trip.

As Chris and his mother approached me, I frantically yanked at my hair, positioning it over my birthmark as best I could.  Then I froze.  It was like time stood still and flew past all at once.  If my pulse raced any faster I figured I’d probably pass out or maybe die right there in the middle of the airport.  I braced myself and waited for Chris’s reaction.

There wasn’t one.

Instead, he walked right past me.

At the last minute, his mother turned her head and noticed me standing there.  “Oh there she is!” she called out, waving to me excitedly.  “Hello Michelle!”

Chris turned to look at me.  I ducked my head and then timidly stole a peek at him.  I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses but I imagined he had a blank stare on his face as he looked from me to two other girls close to my age who happened to be standing nearby.  My heart sunk.  Of course he didn’t know which one was me – he’d never seen me before.  I swear, sometimes I could be so stupid.

I tried to raise my hand to wave but it didn’t want to cooperate.

Chris nonetheless walked toward me, stopping when he stood an arm’s length away.

“Michelle?”

“How did you know it was me?” I asked in a voice that sounded tiny and afraid.

“Your birthmark,” he said simply, those two innocent words causing me to instantly flush.  Anytime I heard anyone say the word “birthmark” in any context it basically felt like a slap in the face.  Of course, no one knew that.  I’d never let them know.  I might not have good looks but I still had my pride.

“Say something,” he urged, the ear-to-ear smile now completely gone from his face.

“Um…what do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” he replied, sounding shaken.  “I just want to hear your voice.”

“Uh, okay.” 

I felt like I wanted to cry.

Awkwardly, Chris reached out for me.  It wasn’t like one of our usual hugs, where his hands would skim over my body, sometimes intentionally and other times on purpose, until he located my waist or shoulders.  I liked those hugs.  They were familiar.  They were Chris’s hugs. 

But now he was a sighted person.  He didn’t need to guess where I was in proximity to him.  He didn’t need me to guide his lips to mine or slide my hand into his.  It would have been wonderful had it not felt so foreign.  Maybe it was selfish of me but the sense of loss I felt in that instant was tremendous and all-consuming.

Chris tentatively wrapped his arms around my waist.  He didn’t draw me in close like he normally did.  Instead, he kept me at arm’s length.  I realized in that instant I was nothing more than a stranger to him.  He knew me intimately, in ways I’d never let anyone else know me.  But when he looked at me, all he saw was a girl he’d never laid eyes on before. 

To him, I was just the girl with the birthmark.

I had to fight the urge to take a step back.  All I could think about was what was on his mind.  Was he disgusted?  Did he feel betrayed?  Surely he was disappointed…  I was glad I couldn’t see what was going on behind those dark sunglasses.  I didn’t want the look in his eyes to be etched into my memory forever.

Somewhat stiffly, I hugged him back.  All the while, all I could think about was how different Chris’s body language was.  I knew I wasn’t imagining that part.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and, for the first time ever, I couldn’t wait for the embrace to end.

Regret washed over me.  I wished I hadn’t come to the airport at all.  What had I been thinking?  Hadn’t I already endured enough public humiliation to last a lifetime?  Why was I seeking out more? 

The pain was so intense that I ached to my very core.  Maybe when people talked about broken hearts they meant it literally, I thought to myself as Chris and I stood there awkwardly looking at each other, neither one of us sure of what to say.  It was only my years of hiding my true emotions that enabled me to hold my tears back until later, when I was alone.

Just as I’d feared, everything had changed.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

Cringing, I tried my best to come up with a plausible excuse.  But I’m not a good liar, especially when I’m put on the spot.  When I came up empty-handed, I reluctantly agreed to the walk and then hung up the phone in frustration.

I didn’t understand why Chris kept calling me. 

He’d been home for two weeks and nothing was the same between us.  Our phone conversations were occasionally reminiscent of old times, but those pleasant familiarities were fleeting and often succumbed to awkward silences.  Spending time together in person was worse yet, neither one of us sure where to look or how to act.

“Maybe he still cares about me,” I murmured to myself as I scrutinized my appearance in the mirror.  Sometimes I just wanted to take a knife to my face and carve the birthmark out of my flesh myself.  It was a gruesome thought, but I figured the end result couldn’t look much worse than what I was already living with.

I brushed my hair furiously, tearing out chunks in the process.  Then I flung my hairbrush across the room.  It hit the wall and crashed to the floor with a loud clunk. 

“Who am I kidding?” I whispered angrily.  “He only keeps calling out of pity.”

The only thing that was worse than being invisible or harassed over my appearance was being pitied because of it.   The idea that Chris now thought of me that way – and probably didn’t know how to break up with me without coming off as an ass – was disgusting.  It was also humiliating on a level far worse than any taunting I’d ever endured at school.

Before
he regained his sight, I’d lit up every time I saw Chris.  He brought something out in me that I can only describe as pure joy.  When I was with him, I became the best version of myself, somebody confident and witty and yes, sometimes even
sexy
.

But now when I opened the front door and saw Chris standing there, I only felt dread.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Should we go?” I asked, reaching for the hoodie draped over the entryway closet doorknob.

“Actually, can I come in?”

“Oh, um…okay.” 

I stepped aside to give Chris room to get past me.  Part of me wanted to reach out and take his arm, guiding him past the steps and ensuring he made it inside safely.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  But of course, he didn’t need me anymore.  He was more than capable of navigating his own path.

Once he was inside, Chris turned around and looked at me.

Under his gaze, I had to
force myself not to shy away.

“I couldn’t do this outside,” he told me.  “I’m still healing and sensitive to light.  But since the light is dim in here…”  He paused dramatically and took his sunglasses off.

Our eyes locked for the very first time ever.

It was a moment I’d dreamed about.
  I’d seen Chris’s eyes before when he’d taken his sunglasses off, but his gaze back then had been unfocused and unseeing.  We’d never actually made eye contact before until this moment.  It was a startling realization.  Even more alarming was the way my palms grew sweaty and my breathing became erratic from something so simple.

No matter how much I tried to tell myself differently, I was still head over heels for Chris.

He took a step forward, closing the distance between us.  “Is your mom home?” he asked.

Was she ever?  “No,” I replied.

“Good.”  He reached out to stroke my hair back from my face. 

I stepped backward, tripping over the soft and stumbling.

“Whoa,” he said, reaching out to steady me.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I replied tersely, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt.  I still wanted Chris.  I would always want Chris.  But I felt stupid and guilty every time he tried to be affectionate with me, as though I was basically twisting his arm.  I still thought about the way we’d made love that night that felt like decades ago, but I’d be damned i
f I was going to have pity sex.

After Chris put his shades back on, we stepped outside.  There was no need for me to link my arm through his
to guide him so I didn’t.  Walking down the sidewalk like that, our hands almost touching but not actually making contact, felt strange and unnatural. 

Even worse, Chris could now see the curious looks I got from people w
e passed by:  the double takes, the raised eyebrows, the looks of concern, sympathy or surprise…  That killed me.  With tears pricking at my eyes, I put my hood up, wanting to hide myself from the world.

Chris leaned down close and spoke quietly so that only I could hear him.  “Don’t pay any attention to them,” he said.  His kindness was so sincere and so heartfelt that I couldn’t help it.  I started to cry.

“Hey,” Chris said, sounding alarmed.  “Come here.”

He pulled me off the street and into an alleyway.  An overflowing dumpster and a pile of old tires set the scene.  It was far from romantic.  But Chris nonetheless didn’t let go of my hand right away.  And I didn’t want him to.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked. 

I couldn’t say the words.  I didn’t know what we were doing but it felt like if I pointed out the elephant in the room, all hell would break loose.  I was still struggling to come to terms with the harsh reality that I was probably going to lose Chris.  I needed time.  My heart needed time.  I didn’t want to do anything to speed up the inevitable.

“I’m just tired,” I told him.  It wasn’t the complete truth, of course, but it wasn’t a total lie either.  Lately I’d been an insomniac, lying awake at night thinking about Chris and crying into my pillow instead of sleeping. 

“Do you want to go home?”

“Maybe that would be a good idea.”

We turned around and began the short trek back to my place.  Chris talked as we walked, apparently in an attempt to fill the heavy, stifling silence.

“My sister invited me to visit for the weekend,” he told me, sounding excited.  “I’ll get to meet my nephew – and actually see him!”

“That’s great.”

“Come with me.”

The truth was before Chris had gone to Norway I would have loved to meet his sister.  She was important to Chris and therefore important to me.  The same went for his baby nephew.  But now I wasn’t so sure.  “I don’t want to intrude,” I finally said after some hesitation.

“You won’t be intruding.”|

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at Chris.  I searched his face, looking for some glimmer of the guy I’d met in the hospital.  It felt like that had been ages since we’d met, but in reality it hadn’t been that long ago.  Someone couldn’t completely change in such a short period of time…could they?

“Is this strange for you?” I asked, gesturing to my face.  “Seeing me like this?”

“Well yeah,” he responded at once.  “I mean, I already knew what my mom and sister looked like.  But you…I didn’t know you before
my accident.  So it’s definitely weird to see you now, after all this time and everything that’s happened.  Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s really you in there.”

I started walking again, at a pace so fast that I momentarily left Chris behind.  With his long legs, he caught up with me easily.  He caught my wrist and stopped me.  “Michelle, talk to me.”
  He furrowed his brow.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s what you haven’t said
that speaks volumes,” I exploded, masking my pain with anger.  “You haven’t said a single word about what I look like.  You haven’t acknowledged the birthmark at all!”

“That’s not true,” he pointed out.  “I told you it was how I recognized you at the airport.”

“Oh, and that makes it so much better,” I retorted sarcastically, feeling wounded.

Chris threw his hands up.  “What do you want from me?” he demanded.  “Was I supposed to say ‘hey, nice birthmark’ the moment I first laid eyes on you?  Because I’m getting the feeling you would be mad at me no matter what I did
or didn’t do.  I’m beginning to think this isn’t even about me, Michelle.”

My mouth hanging open in surprise, I searched Chris’s face for a shred of familiarity.  The old Chris would have probably cracked a joke right about now to ease the tension but the man standing in front of me simply stared back at me,
his true thoughts and feelings a mystery behind his dark sunglasses.

“I can’t do this anymore.”  My head was spinning.  I didn’t want to say goodbye to Chris but this was torture.  In that instant, I began to wonder if maybe I should just call the whole relationship off.  It wasn’t what I wanted but at least I could spare him the unpleasant task of figuring out how to break up with me.

“Do what?”

“Be with you,” I said tearfully.

“Nothing has changed,” he told me firmly, even though it was clear that everything was different.  “I’m the same guy I was before I left for Norway.”

“Are you?”

He hesitated.  “Look, I don’t know.  I have my independence back.  I have my life back.  I can do anything I want now…go back to college, get a job.  It’s overwhelming.”

“And date anyone you want.”

“What?”

I took a deep breath and then asked, “Where do I fit into your new life?”

Just then my phone started to vibrate.  I glanced down at it to find a text message from Eric.

“Who’s that?” Chris asked.

“It’s just some guy from high school I ran into a while ago,” I muttered.  “He wants me to go to a show with him tonight to see an indie band I really love.”

“What like a date?” Chris didn’t sound as jealous as I would have liked.  Instead, he was simply interested, making conversation.  If he really wanted to be with me, wouldn’t he be upset about another guy texting me?  I didn’t even know anymore.

“He’s probably just doing it because he feels guilty,” I said sharply.

“He’s one of the guys who gave you a hard time in high school?”

“Yes.”

“And now he’s trying to make amends?”

“I guess so.”

Chris pondered this for a moment.  Then he suggested, “Maybe you should let him.”

“What?”

“
You don’t owe him anything, Michelle, but maybe you owe it to yourself.  Maybe it would give you closure or something, you know?”

This was all so confusing.  Chris looked at me like I was a stranger.  We
struggled to make conversation now, whereas we never had before.  But the real killer was the way he looked at me like he didn’t even know who I was. 

Then there were moments like this where I caught glimp
ses of the old Chris in there.  Such moments were what kept me from ending things with him.  They were the hope I clung to that maybe his feelings for me hadn’t completely changed once he’d seen me.

Chris
was absolutely right, by the way.  The grudge I was holding against Eric and the others hadn’t turned their lives upside down. 
I
was the one who’d lost her temper, lashed out and been dragged through the legal system, forced to do community service. 
I
was the one whose own mother still had difficulty looking her in the eye.  If I didn’t find a way to leave the past behind, it was going to eat me alive.

We
walked the rest of the way back to my place in silence – no surprise there.  We paused outside, looking at each other uncertainly, each of us seemingly waiting for the other one to make a move.

“You asked where you fit into my new life,” Chris said softly
as he reached for me.  “What did you mean?”  His hands slid down to my waist and he pulled me close, pressing me up against him just like he used to. 

Immediately, my nipples spra
ng to life as my body grew warm with yearning.  Chris always had that effect on me, even though even his embrace felt different than before.  I craved him like a drug.  But instead of cuddling up to him, I pulled back.  My mouth was dry.  “Do you still want to be with me?”

“More than anything,” he replied.

Could I believe him?  I wanted to.  Just like I’d trusted him that passion-filled night alone in my bedroom, I wanted to trust him now.  The night we’d made love, Chris had told me to trust my instincts.  I tried to listen to them now. 

They were warning me to be careful.  

But they weren’t telling me to cut and run…yet.  So I didn’t.

My mom wouldn’t be home from work for hours.  I could have invited Chris in.  In the past, I would have.  But now even just looking at
him was painful.   I bid him goodnight on the front step, giving him a passionless peck instead of the long, lingering kiss-and-grope we would have previously shared.

It wasn’t ideal but it was something.