A/N: Here we are, chapter 3, one day early! Next chapter will be up next Saturday as usual, though… I love to hear from you and I'm sorry I can't update more often, but I want to have time to write ahead, and my Beta needs time to work on the text as well… But as several of the stories I follow myself only updates once every couple of months or so, I think once a week ain't too bad, is it? (don't answer that…) A special thank you to my readers on AFF, but also, of course, to those of you who are reading this on Wattpad or FictionPress. Love you!
Now See Here!
Chapter 3: The Blind Date
Nervous. He was definitely nervous. Mark's fingers felt over his neatly arranged shirts, trying to decide what to wear. Lance was picking him up in half an hour and he was still not dressed. All he had done was shower, shave and pick out a cologne. Only that choice had been hard enough and now he had a new decision to make.
When it came to clothes Mark kept things fairly simple. He didn't have a lot, and his closets were arranged in work- casual- and formal-sections. He knew perfectly well what he had to choose from, he knew the colors and patterns as well. If he had two shirts or sweaters that were very similar, he marked one of them by cutting off a part of the label at the back and so he remembered which was the black shirt and which was white for example. It was quite simple for him, just one of those little tricks you learned to handle everyday life without having to ask anyone… granted, asking might be a good idea at the moment…
"Felix, the pale blue or the olive green shirt with the black jeans?"
"Meeeooow?"
"Green, then?"
"Oow…"
"You don't really care, do you?"
"Waaah!"
"Thought so," Mark chuckled. Felix almost always answered him and he wasn't embarrassed about talking to a cat. The little fur ball was great company. Unfortunately for Mark he would be spending the whole night talking to a woman instead. He shook his head. He shouldn't be so negative! It wouldn't hurt to meet new people, after all, and who knew, they might really hit it off! It was just that… well… he wasn't as sociable as maybe he should be. He wasn't a recluse or anything, he had a few friends aside from Lance, but he had always found it difficult to really give people a chance… maybe it was because he had Lance, his friendship box had been ticked a long time ago and he really wasn't desperate for company… although some adult acquaintances would be nice, sometimes.
He dressed, ran a comb through his hair one last time and drew a deep breath. Then the doorbell rang.
"Hello? Are you decent?" Lance called out. He had a key and always let himself in when he was expected, which Mark insisted on. If he was busy doing something, like cooking, he'd rather not leave it just to go open the door. Just putting a knife down was easy when you could see, but as a blind person interruptions could be complicated and even dangerous.
"Yeah, I'm done. So where are we going?"
"That little pasta place. Nothing fancy but not too bad… and it shouldn't be very crowded either."
"So… who's my date? Linda, right?"
"Linda Smith. She is shorter than you by just a little, she has blond hair, cut in a short page and blue eyes. She's… oh, damn, where did she work…? In a clothes-store I think…"
"Okay, great," Mark said as he locked up the apartment. "And your waitress, what's her name?"
"Sharon. Red hair, dyed. Brown eyes. Amazing body. Even you will stare at her tits…"
"If I do, kick me," the blond chuckled. "Hey, you didn't mention Linda's tits!"
"I have no idea about those, I haven't met her. I only got a description from Sharon… couldn't really ask for her curves, could I?"
"No, I'm pretty sure that would have been frowned upon… besides, I don't ca-"
"Stop saying that you don't care, if you don't care about tits, go date Jake."
"It's just that-"
"If you play the blind card I'll thump your head. You can still be a dog!" his friend claimed as they stepped out the door.
"Something to aspire to," Mark snorted, locking up.
"That's my bro! Hey, claim you want to find out how she looks and cop a feel!"
"You know I don't do that!"
"Yes, and you're missing out! We're at the taxi." Lance guided Mark inside before rounding the car and getting in next to him. "Like I said, if I was you I'd take advantage. How can they get angry at a blind guy?"
"I'll remember your wise words…" the blond muttered.
"Are they here yet?" Mark asked quietly as they entered the restaurant. He had his cane out and kept a hand on Lance's shoulder, walking slightly behind him between the tables.
"No, we're a little early, I thought we'd better get settled first," the brunette answered. "Your chair is to your right now."
"Would you like to see the menus?" a male voice asked them very quickly after they had been seated at a round table with just room enough for four.
"We're waiting for two more, but yes, we can take one and go through it before our company arrives… unless you have menus in braille?" Mark said.
"Um… No, I'm sorry, Sir, we do not. I'd be happy to go through it with you, though, if you'd like? We don't have any specials here, but I recommend the Pasta e fagioli or the lasagna, they are both very good."
"Thank you," Mark smiled, "My friend will help me with the menu, though, he's used to it."
"Absolutely, I'll be back in a moment and I'll bring something to nibble on while you wait," the waiter told them and hurried off.
They had just gone through the menu and Mark had decided on the recommended lasagna when their dates arrived. Feeling terribly awkward and self-conscious didn't help, but after they all were seated, Lance to his right, and Linda to his left, Mark took a deep breath.
"So… Linda… what do you do for a living?"
"I work in Barney's on Madison … we carry great men's wear, you should come by sometime."
"Is that a nice way of saying that you don't like my shirt?" Mark grinned. His date giggled and claimed the opposite, though. The tension seeped away a little as they talked. There were times the women seemed to hesitate when telling a story or saying something, but Mark knew those kinds of hesitations well… they didn't know if he would understand what they described, or how to describe something… or what was alright to ask and what wasn't. He inwardly sighed. This was a threshold he always had to overcome when meeting new sighted people, just as with Jake yesterday. It was easier with visually impaired friends, although he was in the same position with people who had been blind from birth. Grin and bear it, that was all he could do. He was an 'oddity' after all, there was nothing that could be done about that.
When the food arrived he felt over the plate carefully with his knife and fork until he knew how big the portion and the plate were. Choosing lasagna meant that there weren't several parts of the meal which had to be combined, which was a bit easier, but there were still some kind of vegetables adorning the plate.
"Lance, what's this?" Mark pointed to something he couldn't quite make out.
"Slices of tomato, sprinkled with… pepper I think. Want me to get rid of the horrible veggies?"
"Please. They are just going to slide off anyway," the blond chuckled.
"Fine, but I'm calling your mother to let her know you didn't eat your greens," his friend warned him.
"You are a horrible person," Mark pouted and the girls sided with him.
The night went well. They were all having a great time, chatting and getting to know each other. Linda was funny and seemed really nice and warm, Mark liked her a lot. So much, in fact, that he was trying to work up the courage to speak to her alone and maybe ask to see her again. He was pretty sure that was how you were supposed to do it.
Damn, I haven't dated since… since… did I ever date in college or…? Not really, right? It was mostly double dates like this… just a group hanging out… well… it can't have changed that much, now could it? he tried to convince himself.
It seems she was slowly forgetting that she was talking to a blind man and began seeing him as 'just' a man, which was what Mark wanted. He didn't want people talking to his disability, after all, who would?
"So…" he said as they had finished their Italian ice cream, "Would you two… like to go someplace else? A movie, maybe?"
"A movie? But… ummm…" Linda said.
"Oh, they have audio description in most theaters, trust me I'll follow the plot better than you guys," Mark grinned.
"Oh! Well… I'm not sure if there's anything I want to watch right now," his date said. "Why not go dancing?"
"Yeah, let's go to The Sting!" Sharon exclaimed.
"Yes, it's a really cool place, it opened just a few weeks ago," her friend agreed.
"Um… so… it's a club?" Mark asked carefully.
"Not just any club; it has the best music and the dance floor is always packed! Celebs go there too!" Linda told them.
"Oh…" the blond began.
"Mark isn't really into those kinds of places, the noise-" Lance started to explain.
"No, it's okay! We can go!" Mark spoke up and tried to sound enthusiastic. He really, really hated to be 'drowned' in sound, but he just didn't want the night to end and he wanted Linda to have a good time.
"I just need to go powder my nose, Sharon? Coming?" his date said and stood up.
Mark listened to their retreating footsteps and turned to Lance.
"So...? This is fun! It's going pretty well, isn't it?" he asked, suddenly feeling a bit insecure. Linda's voice had sounded a bit strained just now, but on the other hand that might just be because she was talking about going to the bathroom… even when using a metaphor it was something that very few people could say without any change in their voice, in Mark's experience.
"Yeah, bro, but are you sure about the club? Because Sharon would want to dance, and if it's crowded we might get separated…"
Mark swallowed. That was what he was afraid of: feeling lost in a sea of people who couldn't hear and barely see him… "I'm sure," he said bravely.
"I'll keep close tabs on you, I promise," his friend said warmly. "Huh? But why- Okay, hang on!" Mark heard him stand up. "It's Sharon, she wants something, maybe Linda's food was bad or something… I'll be right back."
Mark was left alone for a while. The waiter came back with their credit cards and receipt and chatted for a moment before Lance returned.
"So… are they ready to go?" Mark asked.
"Um… they… fuck…" he heard his friend growl.
Mark stood up. "I already know something is wrong, I heard it in your footsteps… so… she ditched me?"
"She… or rather Sharon, because the little bitch was too much of a fucking coward to say anything herself, said you seem like a nice guy, but-"
"Yes? But?"
"She likes to party. I don't know if she pictured dating you meant she would be sitting in your apartment every night listening to the radio and crocheting or whatever, but… yeah."
"Well... it's fine…"
"No, it's not fucking fine! And Sharon even asked if I wanted to go with them!"
"You can, if you-"
"I might want pussy, but not a cunt," Lance muttered, still steaming.
"Really, I'm okay-"
"No, you're not." His friend was by his side now, giving him a hug and, to Mark's surprise, a loud kiss his forehead. "But you're gonna be, because we're gonna go see a crap movie and maybe end up at some stupid poetry café where we can make fun of all the 'deep' people… and if it's open mic night, you're gonna get up there, with your cane, and say something stupid about colors and they will love it because you're blind and they will think anything you say is insightful as fuck… okay?"
"What, again?" Mark chuckled.
"Well, I love it when you do that!" Lancelot snickered evilly.
They came home around three in the morning. Mark rarely drank, no more than a glass of wine or two at dinner, but he was pretty wasted now. Drinking dulled the senses, the ones he had left anyway, but he had thought he deserved it tonight. Besides, Lance was there. An equally wasted Lance, but he was still there.
"Gonna crash on your couch, bro…" his friend slurred as Mark fought the battle of key versus key hole.
"You do that… m' gonna try to find… find my… bedroom… is this the right house?"
"Pretty sure…"
"Key… don't fit…"
"I think… I think I see… see the problem…" Lance let him know.
"Whut?"
"You're trying to… open the wall…"
"Oh…"
"Gimme…"
A minute or so later they were finally inside. Mark did find his bedroom, though he didn't bother getting undressed. Judging by the sound of a body hitting his sofa, neither did Lance.
_____________________________________________________
Coffee. He needed it. No, it was more than that; he wouldn't live a single moment longer without it. Mark shuffled out in the kitchen, put a pot on, gave Felix food and water, cleaned the litter box, took a few aspirins and then sank down on the couch.
"Oouff!"
"Holy hell!" Mark shot up, clutching his chest.
"Morning…" Lance muttered.
"I forgot you were here, fuck… well… if it handled that, I must have a healthy heart…" the blond groaned.
"Is that coffee I smell?"
"Mine! But I'll put on more, hang on…" Mark said and shuffled into the small kitchen again.
"We must have had fun last night?" Lance mumbled.
"Was that a question?"
"For now, yes… brain hasn't rebooted…"
"I'm pretty sure mine has just crashed."
They had the coffee and, a little while later some breakfast, in mutual but amiable silence.
"So, do you want to do something today?" Lance asked when they were both feeling slightly better.
"No. Absolutely nothing. Oh, crap."
"What?"
"My parents invited me over for dinner… want to come?"
"I don't know… aren't they tired of me mooching off them?"
"Pleeeeease come?"
"Heh, that's what she said."
"If it is, I'm not sure you're having sex right."
"Well, I rather have it the wrong way than not at all," Lance snorted and then groaned. "Argh… sorry… sorry about last night… I really thought they were decent…"
"Yes, well… maybe it's just easier to date someone who's visually impaired as well?" Mark shrugged. "I don't know… I'm just so used to being with a sighted person that I… kinda want to be… oh god, I'm such a bigot… I don't know who I just insulted the most; the seeing or the blind."
"Well, you can't date me, sorry… well… you can wine and dine me and take me to movies and… wait… we're not dating, are we?"
"Jackass."
"Just checking if I needed to put out or not," Lance snickered.
"Not interested in your lanky ass, sorry," Mark sniffed.
"My ass is so perfect that random people in the street want to sculpt it," his friend claimed.
"Yes, I bet that happens a lot… so... you're coming with me, then?"
"I would never miss out on your mother's cooking, I was just playing hard to get."
"Well, there's a first time for everything," Mark smirked. "I'll give her a call then, tell her about the extra plate."
"Great. I'll go to sleep. I'm not done yet. Oh, and can I borrow a t-shirt or something to wear to dinner?"
"Sure, I'll bring you one. And you know where the towels are if you want to take a shower. Just remember to-"
"I know, I know, put them in the hamper…" Lance sighed.
"I can't let your untidiness kill me. It nearly did once."
"You just slipped in some pizza."
"Pizza you left on the floor. On my side of the dorm room! And it was hot!"
"And I was gonna share it!" Lance defended himself, whining.
__________________________________________________
"So, Mark… have you… met anyone?"
"Mom!"
"Just asking, just asking… I know you were going out last night, so-" She was the one who carried the retinitis pigmentosa gene. Her sight had not been affected, at least not yet, and they had only discovered it when Mark himself started to lose his vision. His mother had been adopted after being left in front of a hospital. As her biological parents were never found, no one had known about the disease. Even though she wasn't affected now, didn't mean it wouldn't come. It hit some late in life, and she had learned braille and other things alongside Mark, both to support him and to prepare for what might be her future as well.
"Well, the date were a bust," Lance interjected. "They were total bi-"
"We didn't hit it off," Mark interrupted him. "And would you please stop asking? How about you?"
"Um, this might come as a shock to you, but me and your mom are seeing each other," his father deadpanned. "It has been going on for quite a while now… actually… son… we're married."
"You are so funny…" Mark muttered. "I meant with work and such… Is the research going well? Are the students behaving themselves?"
His parents both worked at the same university, his mother teaching neuroscience and his father biological engineering.
When it came to Mark's career they had never pressured him into going into any of their fields, especially when he found a passion of his own in narrative studies and, eventually, advertising. Mark loved working with words… it was almost ironic that he often felt shy talking to strangers…
"Oh, the students are idiots as usual," his father snorted.
"Paul!"
"What, dear? They are, you know they are… if they have gotten a bit more sense into their heads after four years, I'm happy… not asking for miracles…"
"I'm so glad we didn't go to university here…" Lance mumbled.
"Oh, I'm sure your professors thought you were boneheads too," Mark's father chuckled.
"To change the subject…" Lance said and Mark could hear he was about to say something he wouldn't like. "Sarah, has your son told you what happened to him in the men's locker room the other day?"
_____________________________________________________
Monday came, as it tended to do, and Mark was back at work. In fact he was heading out to lunch when he was intercepted by his boss by the elevators.
"Hi, did your date go well?" she asked. The blond had to remind himself that he had used that excuse, and shrugged.
"Not very… we didn't hit it off," he said, using the same, safe and easy, explanation as he had given his parents.
"Well, that's a shame…" there was something in her voice, something Mark didn't particularly like, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
He had already pressed the button and the elevator doors were sliding open as he gave the woman a polite smile.
"Yes, well… dating is difficult," he just rattled off because he didn't know what to say.
"Well, hello there," a voice said behind him.
"Mr. Barlow!" Angelica all but gasped.
"Hi, Jake," Mark grinned, turning towards the man who, he felt, had rather saved him.
"Are you coming?" the man asked, like they had a decided to meet up like this.
"Yes, see you after lunch, Angie," Mark said and hurried inside, drawing a sigh of relief as the doors closed.
"I overheard that last part… sorry about your date," Jake said.
"Oh, it was nothing," the blond shrugged.
"Liar."
"Huh?"
"Well, after our coffee on Friday I kept thinking that there was something wrong with your face and-"
"Excuse me?!" Mark gaped. "So the date didn't go well because I'm ug-"
"No, sorry, wrong choice of words… something… odd about your face."
"Yes, because that's so much better," Mark muttered.
"Let me explain… I didn't realize what it was myself first, but you lost your sight rather early, right?"
"Yes, I was six by the time it was completely gone," he answered.
"So, and I'm sorry if this is incorrect, I don't really know how these things work, but you had learned to communicate with facial expressions like anyone else by that time, right? My idea here is that… well, as we grow up, we learn how to hide what we think and feel by keeping out expressions as blank as possible. Kids normally don't do that, though and, forgive me, but you are rather bad at it too."
Mark was horrified. "So everyone can see what I'm thinking?"
"I doubt your family even realizes it, and sometimes it's harder to see what's on your mind, but, just now, when you said it was 'nothing'… well, I could tell that that wasn't true. So… join me for lunch? Tell me all about it?"
"Are you actually eating lunch outside the office today?" Mark grinned, still feeling a bit embarrassed that he apparently was an open book to the world.
"Yes, I think I can take twenty minutes or so…"
"Actually I brought food, I was just heading down a floor to get a soda, because the machine on ours ran out…"
"It's too late for that, we're already at the lobby, so let me buy you lunch. Maybe it can make up for that bad date of yours."
"Well, it can't really get any worse…" Mark chuckled.
_____________________________________________________
"I have been ditched too, but that was an appalling way to do it…" Jake muttered after he had gotten the whole story out of the blond. "Don't look ashamed, it wasn't your fault!"
"I'm not ash- damn. I really have to work on my expressions… is this better?" Mark said and tried for a very focused look.
"It looks like you need to go to the bathroom, so… no," the CFO chuckled. "But that person who called you a spaniel was right... and now I understand where that puppy-look comes from."
"I don't want everyone to know what I'm feeling!" Mark pouted, which earned another chuckle.
"Don't worry, I doubt they really do…"
"But if it's so obvious-"
"It is, but people are used to reading more… closed off… expressions. I think when faced with you they don't actually really recognize what they are seeing as the truth… just like I didn't at first… does that make any sense?"
"Read my face."
"I'd say that's a no."
"Wrong, it was a 'hell no'," Mark smirked. "Are you saying I'm so easy to read that I'm hard to read?"
"You're right, it made no sense at all…" Jake sighed. "When you look happy, you look… really happy… and when you look sad, you look like that animated cat from wherever that was from… ah, no matter, let's just say it's rather heartbreaking… but all the other nuances, say you think that someone you're talking to is an idiot… I'm not sure that person would necessarily pick up on that, because we're not used to other adults displaying their feelings like this… although if people do pick up on it, I'm not sure you would have an easy time with them… we do tend to think negative thoughts about our fellow men now and then, after all, even when we like them…"
"I don't want to hurt people, though…" the blond mused. "I should think about it more, at least… when I'm with strangers…"
"Maybe, sometimes… but I don't mind the puppy-thing… but right now it's time to head back to the office… come on, Pooch," he said and stood up.
"Pooch?" Mark raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, it suits you, and we use it back in Chicago."
"I don't care if you're from the moon, it doesn't mean I'm okay with you calling me 'pooch'," Mark snorted before swallowing the last of his subway sandwich and standing as well.
"Ah, I apologize…" the man sounded serious as he led the younger man out. "But it's too late."
"Jake!"
"It's a thing I have. I give people nicknames… not that I often use them to their face…"
"What… like… everyone?"
"No, not everyone… but a few… like your boss, for example."
"And... what do you call her?" Mark asked curiously.
The man chuckled a little before leaning close to the blond man's ear. "Cougar."
_____________________________________________________
They had almost reached the elevators when Mark's phone rang.
"I have to take this or it will cut off when we go up," the blond told the executive. "You go on ahead. And thanks for lunch, I'll treat you back, okay?"
"Looking forward to it," Jake said. "I'll wait for you, though."
Mark nodded and then answered.
"Ah, hello Mr. Digs," he said when he heard who it was. He could feel a grimace of displeasure cross his face and heard Jake chuckle a little. "Did you get the copy we sent you? Good… Well, that's great, thank you, so what was on your mi- Okay… Yes… well… It's not really my departme- Yes, I know you want it all incorporated in your logo, but a tree, the moon, an oilrig, a car and a naked woman? It will just take the art department a while to- Yes… Yes, it should be tasteful, though, and… Mr. Digs, maybe you should talk to someone in that office, because- Yes, I know… I'm sure they are not all idiots… I'm not really- Yes. Yes, we're working very hard on it. Of course. I'll tell them as soon as I'm back from lunch. Yes, you're welcome. Very nice to hear from you. Yes, thank you, glad you like my work. Have a nice day now… bye."
Mark drew a deep breath as he ended the call.
"Not your favorite costumer?"
"No, but I'm his favorite…" Mark muttered. "He calls me about everything from bills to the artwork… I just can't get him to understand that I'm not in charge of his whole account… damn inbred-"
"Maybe you shouldn't call our customers names in the lobby…" Jake reprimanded him softly. "But I know the guy and his company. Family run for five generations… those businesses tend to turn a bit… odd."
"Sorry… Not sure 'a bit odd' covers it, though… you heard what he wants in the new logo?"
"Yes?"
"They make dairy products!"
Jake chuckled. "Maybe 'odd' was a bit kind…"
They shared the elevator with Meg, the 'office mom' on the way up. "Oh, I heard you two went out to lunch!" she all but chirped. Mark wanted to ask where in the world she had heard that, but there was no way to interrupt the woman at the moment. "Have you boys replied to the invitation to the kick-off party for our new clients on Friday?" she wanted to know.
"I'll be there, of course," Jake answered. "Mark?"
"Oh, I don't think I've read the e-mail yet, but yes. My team will work for them, so-"
"Good, I'll see you there then," the CFO said contently. "We've reached your floor. Have a good day now, Pooch."
"That is one handsome boy…" Meg sighed as they got off. "Are you dating?"
"Wha- what?! Why would we be- what have you HEARD?!"
"Oh, this and that…" the woman tittered. "Besides, I can see the way he looks at you."
"Well, I can't!" Mark huffed and stalked off the best he could, cheeks burning. Damn sex-crazy gossips! This place was full of them!
To be continued…
A/N: Pft… people just tell it how it is, Mark! Or see what they want to see… hmmm… ;)
If you are enjoying this story so far, please consider leaving a review! Knowing people care really helps drag me away from playing Sims 3 and stupid facebook games and actually WRITE… ;)