“It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.” ― Leo Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata
I walked down the hallway to my locker. School had just ended for me. It was the weekend and I could do whatever I wanted. Most of my friends were going to be out partying, shopping or going out of town for the weekend. But me? I had to go do some community service thing for school. As every other student in my high school had done their required hours to graduate, I hadn’t. I hadn’t even done one hour of the thirty-five hours I was required to do before I graduated.
With two months until graduating I had to make these thirty-five hours up and quick. What better way to do that then assist some blind kid for a few weeks? I’d have to be with him two hours a day during the week and a total of ten hours with him on the weekend. I’d just have to make sure he got to where he wanted to go safely; seemed easy enough to me. How hard could it be holding onto someone’s hand and telling them to stop and go?
I dumped my books into my locker, and headed out to fight the parking-lot traffic. Usually I would sit around waiting with my friend Lacey for the traffic to clear out, but today I had to meet my community service project at the local café at three o’clock exactly. If I was late, I don’t know what would happen, it wasn’t like they could dock my pay or something, but maybe they wouldn’t sign my sheet of paper, who knows. It wasn’t worth taking the risk.
Getting into my car, I started it up and looked behind me to pull out, to see a line of cars slowly making their way towards the exit. I was stuck in my parking spot until the line cleared out, which would be when the traffic was over. I leaned my head against the steering wheel startling myself when the horn went off. I looked up through the windshield and at people staring at me, but I just ignored them. Had they never heard a car horn go off before?
Fifteen minutes later the traffic had cleared and I was now pulling out of the parking lot and driving towards town. I had ten minutes to get to the café. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any traffic and it’d be a straight shot into to town. If there was no traffic I’d make it there in plenty of time. I might even be early.
Luck was on my side, and I had made it to the café with four minutes to spare. I looked around eagerly as I stood in the entrance of the café looking for someone who appeared to be blind. No one was carrying a cane or wearing sunglasses inside. No one came to meet that description.
“Looking for someone?” came a voice from behind me.
“Ummm,” I turned around. Standing behind me was a tall guy about my age. He had short brown hair, a very well defined body and was about six-foot-one.
“Maybe I can help,” he said, looking past me, “I come here pretty often and know almost anyone that comes in here.”
“Do you know a blind guy?” I blurted out.
“That would be me,” he said, a smile playing at his lips, “I’m Seamoore. I assume you’re Celeste?”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I said, flustered. I could feel a blush burning at my cheeks, “I didn’t know any other way to phrase you being blind…”
“It’s the truth. It doesn’t change anything if you call me something else, does it?” he asked.
“No, I guess not,” I murmured.
“Let’s go sit down, and you can tell me more about you. Sound good?” he asked making his way over to an empty table.
“Okay.” I followed him, watching the way he walked with complete ease through the café. He didn’t take his hands away from his sides once through the short walk between tables to a table in the back corner. He wasn’t wearing any sunglasses either. He kept his eyes looking straight ahead, not letting them wander at all.
“This spot okay with you?” he asked, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit in it.
“Fine,” I said, sitting down.
He walked over to the other side of the table taking a seat, then handed me a menu, “Anything you’d like to order? My treat.”
“I’m good, thanks,” I replied, not taking the menu from him.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, putting the menu back, “So tell me about yourself.”
“What would you like to know?” I asked. I was never good at talking about myself. I could never think of something interesting to tell anyone when they asked, and ended up just telling them some boring meaningless fact.
“What would you like me to know?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t really know, I’m not very good at talking about myself,” I replied sheepishly.
“There’s a start, I suppose,” he said, “how about something else?”
“I can’t cook.”
“Interesting… Do you want to learn how?”
“I’ve tried, I just can’t cook. I burn everything,” I shrugged, “it’s not important I know how to cook to help you, is it?”
“No, I can cook for myself. Your job is mainly to help me get around town for the next three months,” he said, playing with loose thread on the cuff of his shirt.
“Three months? I thought this was only supposed to be for a few weeks?” I asked, surprised.
“Will three months not work out for you?” he looked at me, an eyebrow cocked. I looked straight into his eyes, and only could see a vacant stare. Being blind doesn’t give you much emotion in your eyes, I guessed.
“No, it’s just I need to get thirty-five hours of community service to graduate and that’s in two months…”
“I’ll sign your sheet of paper when the time comes, but you’ll have to stick around for the extra month. Is that a deal?” When he asked he didn’t sound like he compromising more like ordering. He wasn’t as friendly as he had been at first and that bothered me. I needed my thirty five hours though, so I guess I’d have to put up with it. It’s only three months out of my life, how bad could that be?
“Sure, sounds good,” I said, shrugging.
“Good, since you said you didn’t want to get anything, mind taking me to the mall?”
“Sure,” I said standing up and waiting for him to get up as well.
“What are you waiting for? I’ll follow you,” he replied, standing up.
“Okay… You don’t need help?”
“I can hear you just fine with the shoes you’re wearing. They make such a weird clicking sound,” he answered, following me out of the café.
I looked down at my shoes and didn’t understand how he could hear any clicking coming from my flat nude-colored ballet slippers. “What clicking?”
“Never mind,” he sighed, seeming annoyed that I couldn’t hear the clicking.
“Alright,” I said, rolling my eyes.
The walk to my car was awkward making it seem longer than it really was. Neither of us said anything and I walked about five feet in front of Seamoore the entire time. I asked him if I it would be better to walk next to him, but he simply replied that it was easier for him this way.
A closer look at Seamoore I saw he was dressed neatly in a sports coat and dressier slacks. He had a button up shirt on, but no tie. He looked almost like you would when going to church or a special event.
“Any reason you’re dressed up?” I asked, trying to make conversation as we approached my care.
“Something wrong with the way I’m dressed?” he challenged.
“No, I’m just curious,” I defended myself, unlocking my car. “Do you need help getting in?”
“Do I look blind or something to you?” he shot at me.
I just looked at him, and shrugged. No point in getting upset over his comment. If he wanted to be a jerk, then let him. I got into the car, and sat there waiting for him to find the passenger door handle. He was feeling his way up and down the car, until his hand hit the handle to the passenger door. He pulled on the handle and the door swung open. He gingerly sat down on the passenger seat, and slammed the car door closed.
“What mall do you want to go to?” I asked, starting the car up.
“The local one will do,” He replied fastening his seat belt.
“Alright,” I sighed, pulling out of the parking spot and heading down the road in the direction of the mall. “So why do you need an aide? It’s not like you have any problem getting around on your own.”
“I’m getting sick of paying for bus fair,” he said nonchalantly.
“Oh,” I said, making a clicking noise with my tongue, “are you going to pay me for gas?”
“I have a gas card that you can use. It’s not like I can drive anyways or will have any use for it.”
“Thanks.”
Seamoore sure was not chatty. He seemed a lot friendlier at first compared to now. Now he’s just like a grumpy old man. He didn’t seem to have anything to talk about. Or he just didn’t want to talk. The longer we sat in silence the more I wanted to just scream loudly to break the silence. I’m not one to usually be uncomfortable with silence, but this silence was just bothering me to no end.
“What do you want to do at the mall?” I asked, attempting to start a conversation with him.
“People watch.”
“Oh…”
“You’re trying to figure out how I’m going to do that without sight, aren’t you?” he inquired.
“Maybe,” I said, changing lanes to get over into the turn around.
“It is possible you know,” he continued, “you just use your other senses.”
“What, are you going to go up to people and feel them to see what they look like? I don’t think that’ll go over with them very well,” I replied smartly.
“Haha, funny,” he said sarcastically, “no, I listen and smell.”
“So you’re kind of like a dog,” I said. What was getting into me? I was never usually rude like this. Okay, maybe sometimes, but never with people I had just met. What was the matter with me?
“Something like that,” he said amusement ringing in his voice; “you’ll see how it works once we get there.”
“Alright then.”
Once we arrived to the mall, I looked for a parking-spot close to the door, but ended up having to park near the back of the very large parking lot. It being Friday evening a lot of people were going to spend their time at the mall with friends.
“Do you need help getting through the parking lot?” I asked, turning off the car.
“I’m not two years old. I can do some things on my own, you know,” he retorted and got out of the car, slamming the door. I got out of the car, and locked it behind me, following Seamoore into the mall.
He walked through the parking lot with ease. Seeming to know it like he’d been doing it his entire life; which he probably had. He was in the mall doors a few moments before me. For a blind guy he sure walked fast. I started jogging in hopes of catching up with him, but he seemed to pick up his pace even more.
“Seamoore, wait up!” I groaned, almost running now.
“Walk a little faster, we don’t have all day,” he dismissed, not declining his speed.
“Where do you have to go anyways? Shouldn’t I have a schedule of all the things I’m taking you to?” I said, gaining on him.
“I’ll give it to you when we sit down,” he said, leaving the food court.
“And when will that be?” I complained, coming up on his right.
“When we get to my destination.”
I rolled my eyes. What thrill was he getting out of being so secretive? It’s not like I wasn’t going to be there with him.
We arrived at a small seating are at the center of the mall, and he sat down at the first table that came within his reach. No one else was sitting in this area of the mall, but plenty of people were walking by. I took the other seat at the small table, sitting across from Seamoore.
“So are you going to give me your schedule now?” I asked, putting my purse on the table.
“Shhh,” he said sharply, throwing a piece of paper on the table.
I picked up the piece of paper and looked at it. It was Seamoore’s agenda for the week. He had it written so that he was doing something every hour of everyday. He even had written when he would be eating and when he would be relaxing.
“Coming up on your left is a slightly over-weight man, he’s in his mid to late thirties and is wearing a track suit.”
I turned to my left and saw a man that fit the description Seamoore had just given me. “How’d you do that?”
“By listening,” Seamoore said. He then put up a finger, telling me to be quiet once again. Once he was certain that I was going to be quiet he put his finger down, and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“Business woman coming this time. On your right,” he said.
And he was right again. There was a woman dressed in a business suit coming up on my right. She was shuffling papers, and walking at a fast pace, her heels clicking across the floor as she hurried in the direction of small travel agency a few stores down from us.
“Seriously, how much information can you get about someone just by listening?” I asked, amazement filled my voice.
“A lot, when you can’t see, you have to listen a lot more,” he shrugged.
“But how did you know that guy was in his mid to late thirties?” I pressured, “you can’t guess someone’s age just by listening.”
“Maybe you can’t,” he replied, “now you know you won’t have to be with me twenty-four-seven, right? I only need you the required hours I listed in the ad.”
“I know,” I replied, “so what time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”
“I’ll meet you at the café again around twelve. We’ll head to lunch at the local diner then from their we’ll see what I have on my agenda.”
“Alright,” I said, putting the piece of paper in my purse, “so want to tell me a little bit more about you?”
“Not really,” he replied leaning forward, placing his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand, “I’d rather get to know you a little bit better.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Let’s make this a little more interesting,” he said, a smirk coming to his face, “I’ll guess some things about you, and you tell me if I’m right or not.”
“Okay, this should be interesting,” I said, my eyebrows raised in challenge.
“You’re five-foot-four.”
“Right, but that’s easy enough to guess,” I said.
“How so?”
“I walked next to you, so you could guess how much shorter I was than you that way.”
“You’re catching on pretty quickly,” he smiled, “okay, something a little harder then. Your hair is a little past your shoulders.”
“Good guess,” I said, slightly impressed, “you guessed that one with hearing, I’m guessing.”
“Since I haven’t touched you, I’d say you’re right.”
“Was there ever a doubt?” I smirked.
“Cute, no one likes a bragger, Celeste.”
“Who said I was bragging? Just stating a fact.”
“Let’s move onto personality traits. That’ll be a lot more fun. Is that alright with you?”
“Sure,” I shrugged. He wouldn’t be able to guess that much, even if he could see. I didn’t really let that much of my emotion show when talking with people. It wasn’t something I was very open with doing.
“You aren’t very emotional in front of people. You’ll show annoyance and happiness, but never insecurities or things that upset you,” he paused, “and you play with your hair when you’re thinking.”
“Sure, we’ll go with that,” I shrugged.
“I’m right,” he smiled to himself, “you answering like that just confirms it.”
“Right,” I said, sarcasm filling my voice, “but look at the time I have to start heading home to work on homework. Where do I drop you off?”
“It’s only five o’clock,” he said standing up, “but I do suppose you have other plans. Just drop me off at the café. I can find my way home from there.”
“You sure you don’t want me to just drop you off at home?” I asked, grabbing my purse and walking with him towards the exit.
“Nope, a little bit of walking is good for the lungs,” he said, walking next to me for the first time that day, “I don’t live that far from the café anyways.”
“Okey dokey.”
When we got to the car Seamoore was faster this time finding the door handle and letting himself in. He buckled up and I started the car pulling out of the parking place. Not wanting to sit in a long car drive of silence again, I turned on the radio and switched through stations until I found one that was playing a song I liked. I began to sing along, until Seamoore loudly cleared his throat.
“What the hell is that?” he asked, calmly.
“Music.”
“Who is that singing anyways?” he asked.
“Carrie Underwood,” I mumbled.
“Haven’t heard of her.”
“How can you not have heard of Carrie Underwood? She’s one of the biggest female country singers right now.”
“I don’t listen to country, so that’s why,” he shrugged, “can we listen to something a little different?”
“Like what?”
“How about Frank Sinatra?”
“You like Frank Sinatra?” I asked surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Not many people do. I mean, I like him, but no one else I know likes him.”
“I’m not like everyone else,” he said, “so do you have a CD that we can listen to of his?”
“Sure thing.”
For the first time I felt that I had made a connection with Seamoore. We weren’t talking past each other, nor were we trying to figure the other out. We had something in common. Something that I didn’t have in common with anyone else, but I had in common with him. It almost brought a smile to face. Maybe being his aide for a few months wouldn’t be as bad as I had thought.
(Hope you enjoyed the first chapter... I know it might drag a bit, but it'll pick up(: Please leave feedback it would be much appreciated.
Dedicated to Allie_Grace for the awesome cover(:)