Blind Date

Chapter 16 • Baby, You're The One

"Don't tell Michal I said this, but that was one of the best meals I've ever eaten."

"Michal? Who's- oh, Gemma's boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he's a professional chef. He even studied at the culinary schools in Italy and France. He's very talented."

"That's quite impressive. Well, thank you for the flattery and rest assured that your secret's safe with me." Her tone lets me know she's smiling and I hear her stand from the barstool next to me. "Are you finished with your plate?"

"Yes, I am, and please let me help with the dishes," I offer, pushing my sunnies further up my nose and I move to stand up from the barstool. "I'm Head Dish Dryer, as Gemma has so lovingly dubbed me. She knighted me and everything. Even had a ceremony."

"M'sorry I missed that, but we're not at Gemma's right now," she playfully says.

"Ah, see that's the beauty of being knighted, love; the title stays with you anywhere you go. Just like Sir Elton John."

"What? So you're Sir Harry Styles then?" her giggle makes me laugh. "Alright, fine. If you insist, Mr. Hair Dryer."

I tilt my head at her, "It's Head Dish Dryer and I'm quite proud of the title."

"Oh my gosh, I don't remember the last time I've laughed so much."

"Me neither," I agree, slowing my laughter down and I feel her hand on my shoulder.

"Alright, you can be Head Dish Dryer if you'd like," she says and I smile victoriously.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir Harry," she jokes, placing my hand on her elbow and she leads me into the kitchen. "Alright, here we are," she guides my hand to the countertop. "Now I'll get the dishes."

As I lean against the counter, the sound of the water running captures my attention and I feel her presence again.

"Lemme arm you with a dish towel," she says, placing the material in my hand, "and here's a toothpick. It's one of those single flosser kind. It's mint flavored, too."

My smile fades in realization, "Thank you, JJ."

"You're welcome," she simply says.

While she's occupied with the dishes at the moment, I turn away so I can floss my teeth. I was hoping when I swished my last swig of water that it had gotten any remaining particles of the food I ate, but I guess it didn't work.

"Where's the rubbish bin?" I ask.

"It's under the sink, right here," she slowly guides me by my wrist and once I feel the plastic, I drop the toothpick inside. "Perfect shot."

"Thanks. Would you care to know something?"

"Sure, and here's the first plate. When it's dry, you can set it on the mat directly in front of you on the countertop. Sorry, what were you going to tell me?"

"It's fine, uhm, I was just going to tell you that I appreciate how you treat me. Some people, while I know they mean well, think that I can't do anything on my own just because I'm blind."

She hums in thought, "I'm sure it's frustrating because you're grateful they care, but you don't know how to tell them to back off."

"Exactly. Y'know, it's simply amazing how on track our thinking is. It like, blows my mind."

"Same," she agrees, handing me another dish and I begin drying what I recognize as a plate. "There's gotta be something that we disagree on, though. Right?"