Breathe the ocean in

4

- Let's get in and talk. I have an offer you won't be able refuse, – I'm wearing a Hollywood smile on even though I know he can't see me. May be he feels it anyways?

You need to charm your opponent before you make your demands. Kiram is hemming insinuatingly as he's extending his hand with the open palm. Well, the first step is done. His hand is strong, hot and dry and it's touching mine very gently, as if he's afraid to frighten me. My heart starts pounding like crazy – I'm scared. He's visibly trained and strong man, the age is unimportant here. And I've got nowhere to run. I'm having a hard time to overpower my mind and not to drag my palm out of his hand to back off but to lead him to the house. When I feel deeply stressed, I'm just starting to babble, so I do now describing the area. Kiram stays highly focused. When our tour is over, he asks me to repeat it once again only a little slower. Okay, I can do that. Finally we finish our promenade in the living room. The guy sits onto the couch, and I take the farthest place possible from him in the opposite armchair. There's a kind of awkward silence while I'm pouring the cold lemonade brought from the kitchen. I'm offering him one of the glasses and sipping mine slowly. I completely forgot everything what I was going to tell. I can take a better look at Kiram now when we're in the bright light. With his dark hair, golden brown eyes, just like his mother's, straight nose and high cheekbones the boy is embarrassingly cute. The old scar on his left cheek doesn't disrupt the harmony of his face surprisingly. All the girls would go nuts for him back in my high school. His eyes are somewhat defocused and directed straight in front of him, and it still doesn't ruin his image, vice versa it's adding a halo of romance to it. He has no strabismus which is common for the blind people. I'm gathering my thoughts and putting my glass to the coffee table maybe a little too harsh. And I'm opening my mouth ready to talk when I notice his glance following my hand. Oh come on?

- You can see? – I demand indignantly against my will.

- No, why do you think so? – He sounds surprised, and seems like he's sincere now.

- You were watching my hand, – yeah, it comes out too crude.

He smiles with the corners of his lips and answers evenly:

- I can't see your hand but I can hear the motion. It's just a reflex to follow it with the gaze, no more. I'm blind not since my birth, – he says it so smooth like he's talking not about his own mutilation but about the weather. He sounds dignified I'd say.

- Sorry, – I utter with confusion. – I didn't mean to offend you.

- That's okay, I got used to it ages ago. What did you want to talk about?

Oh, boy doesn't like to beat around the bush. All the better, I'm taking my shot:

- Do you know that I'm here against my will? – He denies it shaking his head 'no' but doesn't say a word suggesting that I can go on. I nod to myself and my words turn into a continuous stream. – My full name is Anna Maria Becheroff. I was born in Kio but live in Arana lately. I'm a reporter. And I was invited to Palera to write a few articles about the country. We were to the desert when the storm had started and our car crashed. I lost my conscious after the hit and woke up here. Not here actually, in another house. Doesn't matter. Your father refused to send me home. But I can't stay, do you get it? There are my parents, fiancé and friends. They worry about me. Besides, what kind of beigaly I make. Look, first of all, I'm old for you, I'm twenty five, almost twenty six. Second, I don't speak Palerian so I'm going to be a lame helper. Third, I can't cook and all I know about cleaning is how to start the robot vacuum. Fourth, I have a horrible temper. Fifth...

Here he interrupts me at least. Damn, I just tuned in to going through one hundred one reasons why I'm the worst person for a pet.

- Mari, – he says softly. – What color your hair is?