Love Is Blind (3 page)

“Do you
want
to be asked?  I didn’t want to bring it up in case you preferred not to talk about it.  You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” I pointed out emphatically. What I didn’t say was I knew exactly what it felt like to be asked intrusive and often insensitive questions by the curious and the ignorant.  I knew how much
I
hated it and didn’t want to do it to someone else.

Chris smiled.  “I kind of love that you haven’t asked me,” he admitted.  “You’re one of the precious few.  It’s nice to not talk about it sometimes, you know?  Hanging out with you is the most normal I’ve felt since…well, since my accident.”

There had been an accident. 

I cringed at the thought of Chris injured and in pain.  I couldn’t help myself – I had to know what had happened.  I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to speak, but Chris answered me before I even had a chance to ask the question.  It was like he could read my mind.

“I was in a car accident about a year ago,” he said.  “Some very small shards of glass penetrated my eyes when the windshield broke.  I had a procedure to try to fix the worst of the damage.  Then I had a second procedure to have some more work done but it didn’t go well.  I ended up with complications.” 

My mouth felt dry the way it did when I was watching a horror movie
and knew the monster, be it a ghost, goblin or demon, was just around the bend.  That was how I felt now.  Part of me didn’t want to know about the horrors Chris had endured.  Another part of me – the same part that insisted I watch scary movies even though they gave me nightmares – demanded I ask him.

“What
happened?”

“What happened is that I was an idiot and got what I deserved,” he said sharply. 
“I shouldn’t have been driving that night anyway.”  Then Chris paused and cleared his throat.  “That’s not what you meant, was it?”

“Well no…”
 

Once he’d regained his composure, he explained,
“The biggest problem was an infection I developed shortly after the second procedure.  The antibiotics they had me on weren’t strong enough and seemed to just make the infection come back with a vengeance.  I’ve been fighting it on and off ever since.  Every time I think it’s gone it just seems to come back stronger.”

“Oh my God...” 

“Thanks to all the intravenous antibiotics they had me on in the hospital, the infection finally seems to be under control now,” he assured me.  “But just like the doctors warned, it caused a lot of damage to my eyes.”

“Ugh
.  So uh, are you…blind?”  I hated myself for asking but something in me needed to know.

“Not completely but
I may as well be.  It’s kind of like looking through fog all the time.  I can see vague outlines but for all intents and purposes I’m legally blind.”

I winced at the horror of it all. 
“Isn’t there anything your doctors can do?”

“
They thought so.  They tried.  But nothing worked.  They’ve exhausted most of their options.”

“So that’s…it?  You just have to live like this?”  I felt inexplicably indignant on his behalf.  “I mean, there has to be something else they can do for you, right?”  I looked at him hopefully, holding my breath as I awaited the answer.

“Maybe,” he said with more uncertainty than I liked.  “I’ve been to a few different specialists but none of them have been able to help me in any significant way.  I’m sick of getting my hopes up only to have them crushed.”  It was the first time I’d ever heard bitterness in Chris’s voice and it upset me for reasons I didn’t fully understand.

“But you can’t just give up!” I blurted out.

“Oh Michelle,” he said wistfully, reaching out his hand.  When I put mine inside his he squeezed it reassuringly, sending sparks through my body.  “I’m not giving up,” he explained, the anger gone from his voice as quickly as it had appeared.  “I’m just trying to accept what’s happened and move on.  Doing that is the only way I’ll ever be able to have any kind of life.”

“But…”

He released my hand and held his up to shush me.  “Now that’s enough about me!  I’ve wasted so much time being angry, bitter and depressed that I refuse to dwell on it for any longer.  It’s time to put
you
in the hot seat, missy.”

“Uh oh…”

“Why are you doing community service?”

I set down my fork and made a big production of stirring sugar into my coffee. 
I’d known the question was coming, of course, but I wasn’t ready to go there.  “I screwed up,” I mumbled, feeling my face burn as the memories came flooding back as though a dam had burst.

Chris remained quiet, sitting there waiting patiently for me to elaborate.
  I kept my mouth shut and my eyes focused on my coffee.  “I think your coffee is stirred,” he finally said as my spoon clinked repeatedly against the side of my cup.

I sighed wearily, wishing for the millionth time that I could go back in time and do everything completely differently.
  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered, desperate to change the subject.  There was no telling how Chris’s opinion of me might change if he knew what I’d done.

“I’m not having cheesecake with a serial killer, am I?” he joked
, trying to lighten the mood.

“No.”

“Too bad,” he said wryly through a mouthful of cheesecake.  “If you were I bet you’d have some killer stories.  Get it?  Get it?  Ha!  I’m hilarious.  The only problem is I can’t tell if you’re snickering or banging your head against the wall right now.”

“Uh, maybe a little bit of both?”

“Good enough for me.”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting my chin on my hand.  I watched Chris intently as he shoveled cheesecake into his mouth as though he was just a regular guy.  If it wasn’t for the bandages covering his eyes, I’d think he
was
a regular guy.  I’d witnessed the occasional display of frustration, like the incident with the pitcher of water, but those were few and far between.  He didn’t let his vision problems stand in his way.

It made me feel even guiltier about letting my stupid, far less serious problems stand in my way.  In fact, I’d let them run – and almost ruin – my life.
  Sometimes a little perspective can go a long way…

“How do you do it?” I asked, unable to hide the awe in my voice.

“Seriously, you don’t know?” he deadpanned.  “Well you see, when two people love each other very, very much – or get very, very drunk – clothes come off and then the man puts his penis inside the woman’s…”

I burst out laughing.  “I don’t mean
that
you pervert,” I admonished him playfully, feeling my face instantly redden.  “I mean how do you manage to have a good sense of humor when you’ve been dealt such a shitty hand?”

He was quiet for a minute.  “Either I play the shitty hand or
I forfeit the game,” he replied simply.  “And thanks, by the way, for saying my sense of humor is good.  Most people would use a different adjective:  pitiful; irritating; moronic…you get the idea.”

He reached out in search of his coffee cup.  His sense of direction was slightly off so I nudged the cup toward him.  I knew he didn’t like people helping him with things he was capable of doing himself, but I didn’t want him to bump the cup and spill hot coffee on himself. 

Besides, I figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The next morning I found myself looking forward to seeing Chris. 

We’d gotten back to the hospital late the night before, the staff working the night shift scowling at me as I ushered Chris in long after visiting hours were over.  I hadn’t cared about their dirty looks.  I was just happy that I’d spent a nearly-normal night doing nearly-normal things.  It was the sort of night I’d dreamed about having all through high school.

Today I was tired but focused.

Each morning when I arrived for my court mandated community service, I was given a to-do list.  Sometimes I was helping in the laundry room or in the cafeteria.  Other days I mopped floors, filed paperwork or helped out in the gift shop.

This morning was no different.

I was once again assigned to a different ward on another floor, but I rushed through my designated tasks.  “I’ve never seen a candy striper so engrossed in her work!” my supervisor laughed as I stripped the beds in empty rooms in record time.  “If only they were all like you!”

Once I’d crossed off everything on my list, I raced down to Chris’s floor.  He was sitting in his room
on the edge of his bed with his back to me, facing the window.  Sunlight was streaming in, illuminating his face. 

When he heard me in the doorway, he didn’t turn around.  Instead, he gleefully informed me, “I haven’t been able to be in the sun comfortably since before my
infection. But look!  The light sensitivity is finally starting to go away!”

“That’s great!”  I sat down beside him on the bed and noticed he was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. 
“Nice shades,” I told him.  “They suit you.” 

He made a smug face and flexed his arm.  “Do I look as cool as I obviously am?” 

“Well you don’t look like an idiot,” I retorted, “so no, your appearance does not match your personality.”  There was something refreshing about being able to trade insults with Chris; it was probably the knowledge that there was no actual malice behind our words. 

“
That’s very kind of you.  So uh…notice anything else different about me?” he asked.

It took me a moment to realize that behind his sunglasses, Chris’s bandages were gone.  I froze.  “C – can you see me?” I asked in alarm.

“You’re the prettiest blurry blob I’ve ever seen,” he replied as he sprawled out on the bed.

It took everything I had not to let out a sigh of relief.  I wasn’t ready for him to see me yet
…or ever.  Not when he was the one person who didn’t judge me based on my appearance.  That was rare and, selfishly, I didn’t want to give it up.

“
I met with the ophthalmologist this morning,” Chris informed me.  “He said things are looking good, although he wasn’t too pleased about me sneaking out of the hospital last night.  I got a bit of a lecture when he found out about it.  Whoops.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I’m not.  He was just annoyed that he stopped by after surgery last night and I wasn’t here, so he had to come back a second time.  Besides, it was worth it!”  He grinned and nudged me in the side with his elbow.  “After all, it meant I got to eat my weight in cheesecake
and
go on a date with you.”

Chris reached out to me so I gave him my hand.  He pulled me down on the bed next to him.  “You sound tired,” he told me, as perceptive as ever.  “Lay down with me…rest.” 

It felt strange to lie in bed next to him.  I’d never been in bed with a man in my life, not even fully clothed as Chris and I were.  But it did feel good to put my feet up after another long shift wearing those horrible, ugly, uncomfortable shoes, so I stayed put, staring at the back of Chris’s head and wondering if it was his shampoo that smelled so good.

He lowered his voice and in a dramatic stage whisper, jokingly informed me, “
I tried to cop a feel toward the end of the night, you know, but unfortunately I discovered I was groping a fat man’s face instead of your boobs.  The good news is your boobs probably aren’t as hairy as I was momentarily led to believe.”

I immediately reddened.  “It wasn’t a date,” I retorted a little too quickly
, feeling myself getting defensive.  Then, just for good measure, I added, “You’re such a creep.”  I tried to keep my tone light because I knew Chris wouldn’t be able to see the panic in my eyes.  Maybe I could fool him.

“Hey, come on now, you know I’m just playing around.  Did I seriously offend you?”

“No,” I admitted, feeling my heart rate slow a bit.

“Good.  I like that I can say anything to you.” 

“So what did the doctor say about your eyes, exactly?” I demanded.

He waved his hand dismissively.  “Eyes schmeyes,” he replied.  “They’re going to try another procedure, they’re hopeful it will help me recover my vision, blah, blah, blah.  I’ve heard it all before.  I learned after the first few attempts not to get my hopes up.”

“But…there’s a chance you could get some of your vision back?”

He shrugged.  “
I dunno. I doubt it.  Anyway, enough about that…my sister has been talking my ear off about it all morning.  I’m tired of thinking about it.”

“You have a sister?” I asked in surprise.  “Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”

Chris shook his head adamantly.  “Nope,” he said, moving to his bedside chair and crossing his arms in defiance.  “I’m not givin’ it away for free anymore, Michelle” he informed me with a wry grin.  “Before I tell you
anything
else, I want some answers from you, missy! Why were you ordered to do community service?  Not knowing is bugging me!”

I sighed
in defeat and rearranged myself on his bed, feeling a bit lonely there all by myself.  “You’ll think I’m a psychopath,” I warned.

“Try me.”

I decided to give Chris the short and to-the-point version.  “I had some…issues at school over the years,” I confided. 

“What kind of issues?”

“Well the biggest issue was that I went to school with assholes.  I put up with them treating me like shit for years, like I was their personal doormat.  I guess they thought they were being funny or something.  It sucked.  I just kept telling myself that pretty soon high school would be over and things would get better.”

It felt embarrassing
to verbalize my victimization.  I’d never done that before.  But in a way it also felt kind of good to get it off my chest.  I looked at Chris anxiously but saw no sign that he was judging me.  Instead, his head was tipped to the side and a serious expression was on his handsome face as he listened intently.

“So what happened?”

My voice was shaking a little.  “A couple weeks after graduation I ran into two of them in the parking lot outside a grocery store,” I explained.  “They started giving me a hard time and I just lost it.  It was like…I’d counted the days until graduation just so I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore and there I was forced to deal with them yet again.  It seemed so unfair.  So yeah, I snapped.”

“What, exactly, does snapping involve?”

“I gave one of them a bloody nose and broke the other one’s pinky finger.”

Chris let out a low whistle of amazement.  “I had no idea I was talking to such a tough chick.   Now I’m a little scared.  I mean, what am I dealing with?  Let me guess,” he said, reaching out
toward me, “you’re a 300lb female sumo wrestler, aren’t you?”

His hand closed around my wrist and he gently slid his fingers up my inner arm. 

It felt strange to have him touch me like that.  Even though it was a perfectly innocent gesture, it made my breath catch in my throat.  To be honest it was the closest I’d ever really been to any guy before, aside from the one at the mall whose nose had gotten rather intimate with my fist.

“No,” Chris decided, his voice distracted-sounding and his brow furrowed in concentration
as his fingertips traced gently along my smooth, silky flesh.  “You’re definitely not a 300lb sumo wrestler.”

“That just might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I quipped, well awar
e that Chris’s hand was still gently touching my arm.  My voice sounded funny, distracted.  For a moment I forgot to breathe.

“
You have soft skin.  Does this weird you out?” he asked, giving my wrist a squeeze.

“No,” I fibbed.
  The truth was, I wasn’t sure how I felt.  My heart was hammering and my skin tingled where Chris’s fingers grazed it.

“How about this?” he inquired with a teasing grin, reaching for my face.  “Wait,” he said, pausing.  “Do you wear glasses?  I’d feel like a schmuck if I broke your glasses.
  How weird is it that I have to ask you if you have glasses?  How weird is it I don’t know what you look like after all this time?  So anyway…glasses?”

I laughed and
took his hand, guiding it to the right side of my face.  “No,” I reassured him.  “I have perfect vision.”  I immediately felt awful for choosing that particular phrase – it made it sound like I was rubbing my 20/20 vision in his face or something.  Stupid me!

But I was pretty sure Chris didn’t notice. 

He was too busy lightly tracing the contours of my face with his fingertips. 

I held my breath as Chris’s index finger
gently, carefully moved from my temple down across my right cheek.  His touch was feather light as he ran his finger across my jawline and over my lips.  He touched me as though I was precious and fragile and might crumble at a moment’s notice.  He touched me as though I was invaluable and irreplaceable.  It woke something up inside of me, something I’d long suppressed and hidden away. 

When Chris’s fingertips
moved to the left side of my face, I abruptly grabbed his hand, perhaps a little more violently than I meant to.

“Okay,” I told him, hoping my voice didn’t sound as freaked out as I felt.  “Now it’s starting to weird me out.” 

“Sweet, mission accomplished!”  Chris raised his hands in the air and did a goofy little victory dance right there where he sat.  Just like that, the moment was over.  “Being a creep is one of my main ambitions in life, you know.” 

“I’m sure it is.  Now tell me about your sister.  Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”

“Whoa, jeez, okay…”  For once Chris looked kind of speechless.  Then he took a deep breath.  “I wasn’t always the nicest guy,” he confessed.  “I started hanging out with a different crowd when I was a teenager and things sort of escalated from there.  I was one of those arrogant assholes, completely obsessed with cars and girls and partying.  You probably know the type.”

Boy, did I ever know the type.  They were the type I’d desperately wanted to fit in with back when I was naïve enough to think
they’d ever treat me like a normal human being and not a circus freak.  Then, later, they were the type I tried to make myself invisible from, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact in the halls at school in the hopes that they wouldn’t notice me and call me names.

“Michelle?”

“What?”

Chris chuckled.  “First you insist I tell you about my sister and then you don’t even listen?  Typical woman,” he teased.

This time I didn’t so much as crack a smile.  It figured that Chris had been one of the popular guys at school.  Why wouldn’t he be?  He was tall, good looking and outgoing.  Of course he’d be one of the popular guys.  I felt stupid for not suspecting as much, like I’d let my guard down and allowed myself to be vulnerable only to be kicked in the gut.

“So…?” I pressed.  “You were an asshole and then what?”

“Hey.”  Chris sounded mildly offended.  “It’s one thing for me to call myself an asshole but when you do it, it kind of stings!”

“Sorry,” I replied, not sure whether I meant it.
  I was looking at Chris in a whole new way.  He was one of
them
.  I felt betrayed.

“
I got pretty depressed after my accident.  My so-called friends stopped coming around and I’d constantly lash out at my family.  It’s just my mom and my sister,” he added.  “My dad’s been out of the picture pretty much my whole life.  Anyway, I was a jerk.  Eventually my mom and sister’s patience wore thin.”

“What do you mean?”
  It was hard to view Chris as the enemy, particularly when he was opening up to me about something so personal and painful.

“I don’t blame them at all,” Chris said.  “I was a nightmare to be around.  In the beginning they were with me every step of the way, but all I did was
take my anger out on them.  And was I ever pissed, as though I somehow thought I was entitled to perfect vision and a perfect life.  It wasn’t fair, the way I treated them.  I wish I could take it all back.”

“So does that mean they…don’t visit you anymore?”  I was appalled to think Chris had just been abandoned – and it made me wonder just how badly he’d really treated his family.

“My sister got knocked up, had a shotgun wedding and moved away.   She’s on bed rest right now.  She calls me once a week.  The calls used to be literally thirty seconds long – she was just calling out of obligation.  But now we actually talk.  I’m trying to make up for all the years I was a massive douchebag of a little brother.  I think we’re getting there,” he said hopefully.