Seeing Me, Seeing You [COMPLETED]

~Chapter 2~

I flipped the sign on the door from "open" to "closed" and went back to check on Trevor, who was packing up for the night.

"Thank you for coming out here to fix that amp," I said as he put his tools back in his perfectly organized toolbox.

"It's no trouble at all. I was super excited when your dad came across my ad on Craigslist. Not many people give the blind guy a chance when it comes to this kind of work."

"My dad gives everyone a fair chance. Take me for example... I don't know a thing about musical instruments, nor do I have any musical ability; Yet he trusts me to run his music shop."

"Well do you at least like music?" He asked me.

"Yeah, but most people find my taste in music to be... strange."

He chuckled. "Oh, there's no way that your taste in music is more eclectic than mine!"

"Oh really? Who's your favorite musician?" I asked him.

He smiled. "The late, great David Bowie, of course! What about you?"

"Morrissey. I've seen him five times," I replied.

"Morrissey is drab and boring without The Smiths. Morrissey only wishes that he could be the musical genius that David Bowie was."

"Are you serious? Morrissey is a poet! David Bowie was a freak! If you don't listen to Morrissey, then I don't think you can truly appreciate 80's alternative music."

"So you are one of those 'hipster' people then."

His comment took me off guard.

"I don't like that word." I crossed my arms.

"You don't like it because you are one! Let me guess... you have pastel-colored hair, you own a piss-yellow cardigan from Urban Outfitters, you collect- and repurpose- ancient antiques, you have a moldy record collection, and you order over-priced drinks from Starbucks on the daily. Plus, you listen to Moz, so that makes you a hipster even if you don't do any of the things that I mentioned before."

"Judgmental much?" I tugged at my curly rose gold-colored hair.

"Did I offend you?" He asked.

"No, but aren't you the pot calling the kettle black! If I'm a hipster, then you are, too!"

He put his hand on his hip. "Oh yeah? Why do you say that?"

"For starters, you seem to think that Bowie is some sort of deity. Your crappy paint job on your guitar makes it look like an antique when really, it isn't. You only bought it because it looks old. You dress like you are from 1985... and I don't think it's because you can't see what you are putting on every day! And those Ray Bans have 'hipster' written all over it."

Okay... Maybe I was a little offended. I had just met this guy and I felt like maybe we were getting off on the wrong foot. I began to feel bad for dishing it back at him.

"Touché," He said, packing up his Fender Stratocaster, "Well, if we are both hipsters... then so be it. I'd rather people look at me and think 'hipster' rather than blind freak anyways. And stop touching your hair. It looks nice."

Confused because of his blindness, I let go of my strand of hair. "Um... okay?"

"Trust me, you don't have to be self-conscious around me. If anything, I should be the self-conscious one because of my lack of sight. Even though I probably didn't make a good first impression, do you mind walking me out?"

"No worries. Tomorrow is a new day. And of course I can show you out," I said as he grabbed my arm.

I lead him out to the front of the store, carrying his tools for him as he waved his cane in front of him, eventually reaching the exit door.

"Tomorrow, I will let you give me the tour of the place. Do you mind if I come in an hour early before piano lessons start?"

"That's fine. I'll be here. Would you like me to arrange for you to catch an Uber? It's getting dark out," I asked before opening the door.

"No, actually, I live in the apartment complex down the street. And it's always dark in my world. No worries, I'll be safe. Well... have a goodnight, Keri."

"You, too, Trevor." I awkwardly waved, forgetting that he couldn't see me waving my hand.

He made his way down the street. Part of me wanted to follow him in order to make sure that he made it back to his place safely, but instead I went back inside the shop to count up the cash drawer and lock up for the evening.

After locking up the shop, I looked down at my phone. I had a text message from Papa:

>>Hi, Sweetie. Our plane has landed in Italy and Uncle Nino says hello. I forgot to mention that the repair guy that I hired stated that he is blind. I think that maybe it was a typo on the ad that I saw. Anyways, I hope everything is going well for you. Take care. Mom and I love you!<<

Of course... now he tells me!

~*~

I drove home to my suburban apartment, just outside of Chicago, where the shop was located. I was greeted by the sweet meows of my beloved cat, Jingles. It felt good to be home after a long (and interesting) day's work. I melted into my fifty-dollar 1960's retro sofa that I acquired at a rummage sale. I could have fallen asleep on that couch, but the thought of seeing Trevor again the next day clouded my mind.

I got up and tried to keep busy. I fed Jingles, prepped my meal for the next day, and cleaned my bedroom. As I was cleaning, I looked through my closet... and there it was: my piss-yellow cardigan from Urban Outfitters. Why did I even buy it? It wasn't even attractive. I went to throw it in the trash, but instead I just held it in my hands and stared at it. . I couldn't part with it. Who cares if he doesn't like my hipster clothing choices? He's blind! I hung it up in my wardrobe to wear for the next day.

There was something about this Trevor guy. His unique looks, his bold personality, and his ability to do things- things that even I couldn't do- all without the use of his sight absolutely floored me. He seemed so cool and I seemed so... plain. He didn't know my family, but I was the exact opposite them. I was always the shy, quiet girl with the weird hair. I never had a boyfriend, unlike my sister who had a boyfriend every other week. And I was the one who decided not to go to a music college, which was frowned upon by my parents. There was nothing special about me; But I knew that Trevor was somebody that I wanted to get to know in hopes that maybe... just maybe he would find me at least a little bit interesting and worth getting to know.