Not If I See You First(77)

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too… she would have liked you.”

Silence.

Well, except for the pounding in my chest, in my ears, and in the air all around us.

“So…” I say. “Which way are they pointing?”

He laughs so I get to laugh too.

“Does it matter?” he asks.

“No, I’m just curious. What are they looking at?”

“Well, which one?”

“Jesus, Scott!” I swat his arm, happy to score a direct hit on his biceps.

“They’re not looking at anything. It doesn’t matter. Seeing isn’t believing.”

“That’s right.” I smile and hold out the button to him.

“It’s yours.”

“Find a good spot.”

I concentrate on his hands fumbling just under my collarbone. When he’s done, I tie my Starry Night back over my eyes. I do it slowly, to put off what I know I need to say next…

“I have no right to ask for anything, but I really need a favor.”

“What?”

“If we’re not going to be together, I need you to stop being so nice to me.”

“Huh? We’re friends—”

“Running three miles to pass my house every morning? Running back and forth across the track today? If you had a girlfriend, first she’d think it was sweet that you’re watching out for the blind girl, then she’d start resenting it. There are things you only do for your girlfriend. If I’m not, you need to stop.”

“But I—”

“This is really hard to ask, because I like it, I like it all more than anything… but I can’t take it if you say we can’t be together yet sometimes act like we are. If we’re going to be just friends, I need you to stop acting like we’re more. Those special things you do feel good at first…” I put my hand on my chest. “Then it just hurts.”

Silence.

I want to fill this silence with more talk but I force myself not to. It’s his turn.

“I’m not saying we can’t ever be together,” he finally says. “I just know it can’t be right this minute.”

Even this much makes me dizzy. Swoony.

“Well, think about it.” I try to use my matter-of-fact voice and I’m relieved it comes out that way. “In the meantime, please, just stand there and eat popcorn and watch my disasters like everyone else. I might get bruised or break a bone or two, but I’ll live.”

He chuckles. “Nothing’s easy with you.”

I smile. “Some things never change.”

“How long do I get? To think about it, I mean?”

“As long as you stay back far enough, take all the time you want.” I gesture vaguely. “You don’t see a bunch of guys waiting in line, do you?”

He chuckles again. “There should be.”

“See, you can stop that shit right now.” I dig my new cane out of my bag and unfold it. “Compliments and flirting’s on the wrong side of the line. I’ve got to go. Sheila’s probably wondering where I am.”

“I’ll walk you over—”

“No, you stay here.”

“C’mon, I walk lots of friends to their cars. That’s not special treatment.”

“I need a bigger buffer, okay?” My voice catches, tripping over these words. “So I don’t get excited every time you come close, hoping you’re about to cross over. That’s the favor, that’s what I need. Don’t come close unless it’s on purpose. I can’t take it otherwise. Please?”

God, don’t start crying again…

“Okay. No special treatment unless it means something. I promise.”

“Thank you. I have to go.”

I held it together pretty well I think—turning jovial at the end, light, witty, strong—but I need to walk away now. Not to be dramatic but because my voice is going to crack again and I feel like I’m dying inside. I know if he decides to never be more than friends I’ll survive it and be okay again, but that’s later… much, much later. Right now my eyes are leaking into my scarf again and my chest is caving in.

“I’ll see you later,” he calls after me.

I wave my free hand over my head.

“Not if I see you first.”





THIRTY-TWO


I wake up Saturday morning before my alarm and tap the speech button. Stephen Hawking says it’s five-thirty-five AM.

I think about how when I first lost my sight some kids asked me how I knew when I woke up in the morning if I couldn’t open my eyes and see anything. I should have realized then just how steep a hill I had to climb.

I crank open the window and feel the cool morning air outside, much the same as it’s been the past few weeks but a bit crisper.

I put on my running clothes including my hachimaki. I usually save it for Sunday with Petey but this morning I definitely feel like Divine Wind.

I stretch in my room like I have been lately but I don’t hear any footsteps outside. I finish and tap my alarm clock. Five-fifty-three. I wait until six and hear nothing. Scott’s sticking to our new deal. I’m on my own.

I walk to my door and remember my Star Chart is still there. I unpin it, fold it a few times, and push it into my trash can. I retrieve the plastic prescription bottle of gold stars from the dresser and toss it in the trash, too.