Not If I See You First(69)
A car slows to a stop and an older woman asks if I need help. I give her my best smile and say no thanks but ask the address of the house I’m in front of. When she tells me I nod like it’s a good answer and she drives away. I could walk home now but instead I call Sheila.
I tell her the truth, that I felt like walking home but bent my cane. I think she knows there’s more to it but she just says she’ll come get me. I find a tree by the sidewalk to lean against, fold up my cane, and put it in my bag—otherwise I know from experience it would work like a radio antenna, calling all do-gooders who think that if a blind person is standing still they must need help.
Aunt Celia’s car pulls up. The music isn’t on so I think my aunt came instead, but then the door bounces open and Sheila says, “What the f*ck are you doing here?”
“Waiting for my prince to rescue me. Thank you, Prince Sheila.”
“Okay, well, Prince Sheila’s blocking traffic. You coming?”
Turns out there are parked cars all along the street. I pinball between two of them and get in and close the door. Sheila doesn’t wait for me to put on my seat belt and she accelerates away.
“You want to go somewhere? Somewhere not home?”
“How’d you know?”
“You’re out here for a reason. You know your way around this hick town… Where to?”
“Are we kissing cousins now? I know a good make-out spot.”
“We are not, but on the slim chance I ever get a date here, it’d be good to know. How do I get there?”
“Take the next left.”
She actually turns left.
“Now what?”
“Um, take the next three lefts. How the hell should I know? As much as I’d like to tell you where you can go, I’m a pretty shitty navigator.”
“I figured you knew where we were, counting stop signs, knowing all the turns… You can tell when the car turns, can’t you?”
“Yeah, but not more than that. I wish I was that clever.”
“I bet you could, you just don’t bother. I wouldn’t either if people always chauffeured me around.”
“You see that big hill by the beach? You can see it from anywhere in town—”
“Yes, yes, I see it.”
“There’s a road that leads up to a vista point at the top—it’s meant to be easy to find.”
“Okay, just relax and let me do all the work.”
“I will.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I lean against the headrest and smile. Not for long.
“Wait, what do you mean if you ever get a date here? You have a boyfriend.”
“Had.”
“Oh… when did… oh… shit, was it last week? Right before you came and picked me up?”
“See? You’re plenty clever.”
“God, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“We were chatting on Facebook and I found out he wasn’t keen on a seventeen-hundred-and-forty-six-mile relationship anymore.”
“Ouch.”
“It was a bad couple of days, I admit… Now I don’t even miss him.”
“You weren’t that into him?”
“I was, but part of how much I liked him was how much I thought he liked me. I don’t want to be anyone’s convenience girlfriend. Now I’m mostly mad at him for pretending he was serious, and myself for buying it, wasting all that time and energy.”
“Do you talk to other friends from your old school much?”
“Mostly on Facebook. We don’t call or text much anymore. They’re all… busy with school and… whatever.”
There’s nothing I can say to that, nothing she hasn’t obviously figured out already.
“I’m starting to think moving was a good thing. It told me who my real friends are. I don’t like how the numbers are adding up, but I’d rather know where I really stand.”
“Truth isn’t happiness; it’s just truth.”
“Faith’s right, you are a philosopher.”
“She’s never said that to me. Was it a compliment or an insult?”
“It’s hard to tell with Faith.”
“In that case, probably both.”
The car stops and shuts off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“This is ridiculous. This is the make-out spot? Maybe for people in their sixties. There’s even benches and a little gazebo. You sure this is it?”
“You know I’m blindfolded, right?”
“So take it off.”
I snort.
“I know you’re not really blind. It’s just a scam for attention. It’s a cry for help, really.”
I smile. “I’m in too deep to stop now. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Do you want me to treat you like you’re blind?”
There’s no joking in her voice. She’s really asking.
“No. I get that from everyone else.”
I want to put my head on Sheila’s lap, like how Sarah did with me at her house. I don’t, though. Feeling like I want to is enough.
“I’m sorry about the car last week. I was such a bitch—”