"I was born in darkness, and so darkness I became."
Friday - September 12th
It's been a hell of long first week of school, and only five days into my sentence in Hell and it already seems like a lifetime. I have faced down the toughest kid in school, over much of nothing. The Butcher for his part has pretty much taken to our new "cool" relationship in stride. The rest of the Flocks aren't even terribly hostile to me, or particularly cool either.
I also made about fifty bucks gambling on swimming, and apparently in the process setting a new unofficial pool record. By which earning Captain Midnight's undying enmity. Outside of Chad, my classes are not terribly difficult and the teachers seem decent'ish enough. With the glaring exception of course for Or'sir. Who for some strange reason has taken to glaring at me when he thinks I'm not looking ...and sometimes even when I am.
My only saving grace so far is my regular lunch date on Devil May Care Island with the strange girl ...who is no longer a stranger to me. I have come to see lunch in a completely different light than before at my old Seaside life. At Seaside lunch was the only meal I could count on for sustenance. To check-in with the Set and see what if anything was cracking off that day. The fights, surf reports, beach parties ...the what's what that kept things interesting at school. And of course, Grom's daily running tally of whacked-out observations and insights on everything jacked up that happened during the morning. Even though I was sitting right there with him through it all.
I while I miss all my comrades at home, and the familiar insanity of it all, it's becoming slightly cooler here in Hell. Insomuch as I hate to blame May for anything, thanks to her Hell has become almost bearable. For instead of the combative nature of my former learning institution, lunch at San Fall has become a somewhat of a zen-fest for me. A place to just take a moment and chillax, while May and I engage in some much needed academic fencing. Only instead of pencil shanks to make our points, we joust with words and bad ideas. So my former hostility has been replaced by an air of intrigue, and the odd observation on the sad state of all things in San Fall.
So of course, I have to go ahead and screw that up sideways...
The Sinister Sister has come and gone without as much as an hauteur glare today. After dropping off the food, she immediately flys away to sit with her coven of fearleaders to cheerily make someone else's life a living nightmare. Or whatever it is that The Coven of Cheer does when not cheering us up with fear. Jump-hugging each other to death, slut-shaming Séances to fill themselves up with school spirits? Or sacrificing virgins to the football gods in honor of tonight's first football game of the season.
So May and I start up our routine, I share half of what I have. On today's menu leftover BBQ ribs from dinner last night. Then we start catching up the other the ongoings of the day since we parted ways in the morning. We generally talk a little classing, where I usually have an almost interesting Butchy and Or'sir tale to share now. May tells me how she and the Butcher fared in dummy math with Substitute Coach O'Something and some almost amusing sports math analogies. Then we take stock of the flocks and how they are faring in the ongoing struggle to survive high school.
Today there is a minor lull in the conversation, and we finally get to the moment where I am just about to poke the stupid stick at a hornet's nest, just because I can. "Can I ask you a question?" is often times the most dangerous question of all.
"Hey May, can I ask you a personal question?" I start of killing myself slowly.
May must hear the hesitation in my voice. Because her pearlescent smile evaporates once more, back into a familiar frown of consternation behind her nightshades.
"Sure why not." She sighs all kinds of resigned and seems to deflate in front of my eyes.
"So I was wondering if you..."
"You know on second thought, I just changed my mind." She cuts me off clean, before I can even start up the stupid. "Let me save you the trouble of trying to figure out the nice way to ask what you really want to know. The answer is from birth ...and no, it's not because of The Syphilis."
"Oh...kaaay." So you've been hiding out in bathrooms from birth, but not from The Syphilis? Yes, that would "supposably" explain a lot of things, including the whole sunglasses at night thing?
"There's even a fancy medico name for my condition, that you'll never be able to pronounce or remember. So when this comes up, usually right away to right about now? I have what I call my Fives, Sixes and Sevens speech. So kindly save your questions and comments until the end."
From her pursed lips, and I can tell that she is starting to get very unhappy now for some reason. So I decide the best course of action is to just let her have her say and see where this goes.
"So the When?" She sighs. "Anywhere from a couple of hours after my birth to a couple of days later. You see technically I wasn't born blind per se ...I was made blind." I've begun to notice that her highly agitated hands flaying around, have a certain practiced pattern to them. One that tells me this is by far not the first time she has given this speech.
"See I was born premature, like right on death's door premature. With extremely low birth weight, underdeveloped lungs and a heart defect which required some surgery. Just to name off a few of the fun factors of my tragic birth. So when a baby is born as severely premature as I was, your life options are pretty limited at that point to blind or dead."
"So the best way I have to explain the limited options is to repeat what I was told by my doctor when I was five, and I asked when I could start watching cartoons with April. That I should think of myself as a baby bun. And when I first came out of the mommy oven, I was severely undercooked. A very undone bun, so to say." May is speaking in rapid staccato now, snapping out words like a machine gun.
"So what do they do with undone buns like me? We get shoved back in another oven to cook longer, called an incubator. So the way to cook the undone buns to done in the incubator oven is with oxygen therapy. In order to counter the whole death by suffocation thing thanks to those undeveloped lungs." She takes a deep breath to pause for effect.
"So into the incubator oven, I went." May wipes her hands clean. "So just as in all baking, you have to cook it just right the first time, or you basically burn the bun to a crisp. Things like ...say checking the temperature? Or timing the burn just long enough to cook right? Oh, and keeping your eyes on the oven to make sure everything cooks just so."
"But in my case, they cooked me in the oven wrong. So I came out one overdone bun ...burnt blind so to say? And like all burns, there was scaring." May taps the side of her head. "But in the inside, where the eyes connect to my burnt blind brain."
"Onto the Why? Life is as good an answer as any, I suppose?" She shrugs. "I try to think of it as a trade-off, eyes for lungs, my sight for my life. You know, in order to keep doing that breathing thing I enjoy doing so much?"
"So why can't they just fix me? Have one of those operations that transplant dead people's eyes in me?" She snorts at the idea of this obvious solution. "Well, because by the time someone figured out that the bun in the oven got burnt blind? None of those options would address those burnt-to-a-crisp parts inside my head."
"So now on to the sixth sense and superpowers stupidity." While I can't see her eyes behind her nightshades, I can hear the eye-rolling irritation in her voice. "Contrary to comic book lore and ancient science fiction literary tropes? No, I do not possess some heightened sixth sense that overcompensates for my lost sight, like Esp or bat sonar. Blind people developing radar or supersonic hearing makes about as much sense as deaf people developing x-ray vision."
"So my hearing is actually pretty normal-ish. And by 'ish' I mean that apparently, I have a little more sensitivity to pitch perception. So ability to locate sound origins, only slightly more accurately than most people? Or at least so my sister claims." She waves the thought away.
"So in other words, I am slightly more sensitive in my reaction to sounds. Which means I get the added fun of startling easier than most at loud noises in the dark. You know, so I can really enjoy the daily series of small heart attacks I do so love, from being continually surprised by sudden loud noises." She begins to count off her least favorite surprises for me. "Like lockers slamming right next to my head, and books dropping in class. Oh, and my personal favorite, large groups of little girls suddenly shrieking together in mutual excitement. Over whatever the hell it is that girls in high school shriek in shared excitement about?"
"So sorry to disappoint, but the only thing I really got out of the whole deal was that silly breathing thing I like to do so much. Maybe just possibly a deeper level of self-awareness? Not to mention the ability to irritate and annoy the crap out of others with all my super specialness. So yay me." She shakes her head to de-emphasize the "Yay me" drone.
"Oh, and also my cycle is slightly longer than 24 hours." She adds dryly. "That's my sleep cycle in case you were wondering, not the other girly one."
"Yes, like the majority of my darkside kindred, I have the added joy of dealing with what is known as non-24-hour sleep-wake condition. Because unlike a sighted person, my circadian sleep cycle is not entrained to the sun. You know, cause I can't actually see the sunlight ...just the darkness." She waves her hand in front of her nightshades for emphasis.
"So left to my own devices, I sleep when I am tired and I wake when I am done sleeping. Which over time becomes out of sync with everyone else in this time zone, unless I maintain a strict clock regimen. So thus the constant time checking I am oh-so-fond-of." She taps her fingernail soundly on the cover of her ornate timepiece.
"Now onto the stupid sevens then ...like do I dream? Why yes I do, thank you very much for asking." She smiles falsely. "But not in pretty pictures, like I've heard that other people do. See I dream in the sense sensations that I have experiences with, so sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, even touches from time to time."
"Which is super awesome, especially when I have that one fun dream that I am still a screaming baby bun. Stuck in the oven that my mother shoved me in, slowly burning to death." She shivers slightly. I sense there is something deeply prophetic about this incantation, that I am almost positive is not a late summer chill.
"Then there's that whole reoccurring falling nightmare thing, so that really helps with the whole not sleeping thing." She snorts. "I used to have nightmares all the time as a little kid. But when you come to know the darkness as well as I have? You tend to get over those pretty quick. Especially after you figure out that the real monsters in the world of the waking are the same ones you have breakfast with every day." Of course immediately and incorrectly assume the Sinister Sister to be the monster in question.
"So that's the Fives, Sixes and Sevens, any questions that I didn't answer so far?" May folds her hands in her lap contritely and steels herself for more of my stupid.
"Yeah, one question and a couple of comments." I start slowly, still trying to wrap my mind around all her truth. "What I was gonna ask you was ...what do you normally do on the weekends? So if you're not too busy? If you wanted to maybe grab some lunch and hang out for a while on Saturday or Sunday?"
"Ah huh?" May falls completely still and silent.
I watch her cascading reactions closely, as it hits her that she might have just jumped the gun. Possibly overreacting ever so slightly to my stupid "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" question.
"So let me see if I have this right?" May intones slowly feeling her way out of the hole she just dug for herself. "So before when you said, "Can I ask you a personal question?" You were actually going to ask me out on a lunch date over the weekend?"
"Yeah, if that's cool with you?" I try to keep hope alive. "Cause lunch with you is pretty much the highlight of my day here? So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together over the weekend?"
"I open the pool both weekend mornings, but I'm usually done by about one o'clock. So I was kinda thinking that maybe we could grab something to eat after and hang out at our old battlegrounds on the bleachers. Then after lunch, if you wanted to go for a swim, or a walk and talk? Or we could just hang wherever a good place to hang is, other than Da Frost? Cause I got to be honest with you, as far as dives go, that spot is a little too nice by half for my standards." Not to mention da Frost is full of all the same flockers from school that May hates having stare at her.
"Ah...huh. Sorry, but I don't swim." She slowly intones. "I'm actually terrified of the water. Ever since I was five and I almost drown when I fell into the Koi pond in our backyard. In fact, the only reason I'm still alive is that April saw me fall in. So she ran out of the house and grabbed me by the ponytail, then dragged me to the shallow end by my hair. So I haven't ever been back in the water since that ...even being in a bathtub freaks me out."
"Okay, so I think it's safe to say that it's a big no-go on the pool then?" I agree, still trying to wrap my mind around the almost deadly turn in May's past life. Not to mention a three-year-old April selflessly coming to the rescue, and what that means in the totality of it all.
"So you weren't asking me about my darkside stuff at all?" She scowls down at her hands.
"Nope, not even a little." I reply truthfully.
"Really? You're not just saying that because you walked into a bitchy bomb landmine?" May tilts her head to the side curiously. Which makes me keep wanting to explain myself to her, long past the point where I should just shut up.
"Honestly, I wasn't going to ask you any of those questions, because I already have a decent idea what Retrolental Fibroplasia is? Or as it is commonly known as Terry Syndrome. That it can occur when premature babies, who are placed in intensive care oxygen incubators. Causing oxygen toxicity levels to exceed the safe standard, resulting in retinal detachment and Retinal Vasculature scarring. Ala Stevie Wonder ...and apparently you?" I reply cautiously.
"Oh, and I kind of figure out the non-24 thing on my own. Cause no offense Maybe? But no sane person could be that happy in the morning without some sort of sleep disorder."
May takes a long minute to absorb this recitation of her diagnosis and my nearly accurate pronunciation of all the medico jargon. I even remembered the big words...thanks insomnia internet! She starts slowly shaking her head from side to side. In what I can only assume is an effort to wrap her head around the fact that I am probably not as stupid as I look, or sound in her case?
"So how do you know all that about me?" She finally frowns down. "Did someone tell you all that?"
"No one told me that." I shake her off easily. "Remember I'm new here in Hell? So no one talks to me at all. Well besides the Butcher ...if you could call that talking?" I snort. "Truth is I've had a weird insomnia thing as a kid. But surfing helped a lot to tire me out so I could actually sleep deep. But when I came to San Fall and alas no mas surf to be had?"
"Oh and apparently, my old friend 'why the hell am I still wide awake at three AM' came with. So why sleep, when you can stay up reading all the online pseudoscience for fun? Oh, and that bun in the oven story pretty much sealed the deal."
"Then why do you know all that crap about me?" She sounds almost hurt now like I've been spying on her and her secrets.
"Ah ...so I didn't have to ask you stupid questions? That you probably got tired of answering when you were ten?" I reply hopefully and take a chance on shifting her mercurial mood back to talking about weekend lunch. "Although one upside, it is a relief to know your syphilis-free."
"Because going from Batgirl to Clapgirl doesn't seem like a positive change to me. And as you've already pointed out, sudden loud noises are not cool. So I'm thinking that flockers clapping every time you passed by in the halls of San Fall, would probably not improve your otherwise normally sunny disposition towards the rest of the flocks. Just saying." I hold my breath for her response because at this point I can see this going several sideways fast.
"Clapgirl? Seriously?" May finally quirks a small smirk at me, and I relax slightly.
Because with those two words, I can see that she is finally coming up for air after almost drowning in a sea of her own sorrow. If there is one thing that I have learned to respect the most about this feisty little girl? It's her ability to get back up from a fall, and not let anything or anyone keep her down. It's both blazing impressive and highly humbling at the same time. So of course, I push my luck a little ...because I am stupid.
"Speaking of which, if I am being honest, which apparently is a thing for us? I can't really say I enjoyed your pre-prepared speech very much." I put some extra sad in my sigh for her listening pleasure. "I hate to say it, but I kinda got the distinct feeling your heart really isn't in the performance any longer, if ever? Because truthfully, I've heard a lot more passion in your voice talking about what passes for tacos around here. So sorry if that offends, about the tacos anyways, but we did agree to be truthful."
"Oh my god," She busts out snortling. "Are you actually critiquing my super sad childhood trauma speech?"
"Well yes, I mean you did insist on holding questions and comments till the end, right?" I force a slight smile in my voice for her to hear. "So yeah, I guess I am giving you my best critique. I do however have a couple of thoughts to share towards improving the spiel if you're willing to hear me out?"
"O' yes please, by all means do go on. Cause I can't wait to hear this." She is growing surly with me now, but in a good way ...I pray.
"Okay first off, while I did appreciate that clever burnt bun baking analogy on some level. But it does seem like an awful lot of words to keep track of." I point out the obvious issues of dealing with dummies. "So you might want to consider paring it down a little, for the random dummies you might meet in the future? That way you don't waste all your baking allegories on the Butchy's of the world. Who might get really confused with baking and blindness, and take that and run with it in a totally psychotic direction?"
"Like your parents tried to kill you and shoved you into an oven as a baby?" I try to shake off the stupid. "Hell, you could even make an idiot litmus test out of it, just to see if they bite on the stupidity. Like your own personal, 'Let's just see how dumb you really are?' IQ test?"
"Oh pray tell, Mr. Devil?" May is now somewhat suspicious.
"What can't you sell to a moron if you package it correctly? Seriously, the variations on stupid are as endless as stupidity itself. Purity ring polish has got to be on the all-time stupid stuff list. Just the fact that you are wearing that sexy shackle implies you are polishing that baby on the regular. And please don't even get me started on the whole cheerleadering is a real sport controversy."
"Okay yeah, I can totally see that. So let's just see how you do then smart guy? Give it a go and let's see what you got." She smirks sardonically. "So Dare...how did you go blind?"
I am so tempted to go with The Dreaded Syphilis just for fun. But instead, I opt to roll out the horror show in my head.
"Well Maybe, I'm glad you asked that actually. See I have what is known as hysterical blindness. It's a condition that occurs when you see something so shocking, so unbelievably horrible? That your mind protects you from seeing anything else like it again, by shutting down your eyes."
"So how it happened to me? Well, the last thing I remember is walking in on the Raisins doing it." I drop my voice sotto voce for effect. "And what's even worse was they weren't even doing things normally. There was a horrible little circus clown midget involved. Who when I accidentally walked in on that horror show, was just sort of sitting on the edge of the bed smoking and smiling suggestively at me. And then ...The Horror ...the absolute horror of it all! I screamed, "O' God no! Why me? Please make it go away!"
"And poof ...blissful nothingness. It all went away, and I was blind from then on." I sigh wistfully for effect. "Thanks old God, you're the best!"
May bursts out giggling, which I take as a very good sign at this point. Which under the circumstance is an unbelievably pleasant sound to my ears. Like a chorus of angels just got all God's jokes at once.
"Oh, and I call him Mr. Or'sir now, and he's my new least favorite midget clown uncle." I muse for her amusement. "You know, just in case you were wondering."
"And again with you and Or'sir and the midgety thing." May shakes her head clearly amused. "You do realize that he is probably taller than I am, right?"
"Totally different thing." I snort. "You are gracile, elfinine, and demure. Whereas Or'sir is just malignant, malformed, and all kinds of wrong. An abomination in the eyes of the gods and men alike."
"Oh okay, Mr. Devil." She shakes her head smirking. "Alright, so not too terribly bad for the first time out of the box. But blaming God is always a winner for whiners, so bone that noise. So other than the big guy in the sky, what else you got? Try to go with something at least sorta slightly sciencey this time."
"Okay, you know how they say don't stare into the sun during an eclipse or you'll go blind?" I sigh deeply despondent. "Yeah, so turns out that's actually some really good advice."
"Weak sauce." She snorts in retort. "What else you got?"
"Okay, so let's say I'm feeling a bit racy and adventurous? Then I could go with the all-time you'll-go-blind-self-abuse classic." I steel myself for stupid. "See when I was little, they told me that if I keep touching myself that I'd go blind? And well ...I guess it's pretty obvious I lack self-control."
"Ohmygod, you just had to go there?" May snorts and shakes her head, so I push my luck.
"Or if I really want to freak someone out. I suppose you could throw in some secret ancient Tibetan Tantric self-sex technique? That you stumbled across in a strange bookstore in Chinatown, that specializes in the demonic. The Eternal Orgasm was so unbelievably awesome that it strikes you blind at the end. But just that one time, but the end totally makes up for it." I drop my voice to a whisper. "But don't tell anyone, but the end is still happening right now? Ergo the Eternal part?"
"Oh please, as if." May drones and then suddenly claps excitedly. "Oooh, I know. You sold your sight and soul to the Devil for the gift of clairvoyance. So dude whatever you do, don't have sex for the next four years or you will like super horribly die."
"Good one." I laugh along. "Why but why limit yourself to four years? Why not forever?"
"Because it has to be believable on some level? I mean it is the Butchy's of the world we are talking about asking here, right?" She laughs along melodically. "Four 'a years' of a high school is like a whole football career? But forever is way too many tomorrow's to comprehend."
"So sad, but so true." I have no choice but to wholeheartedly agree. "I suppose you could always go the other way? Tell Butchy if he doesn't have sex in the next twenty-four hours he'll die. But it has to be with a dude? Talk about a true conundrum ...life or something Other than death."
"So on that sad note of prejudicial possibilities, are you going to the game tonight or what?" May grins wickedly. "First home game of the season is a time-honored tradition in these parts. Whole towns gonna be there to watch Falcons kick Fallon's ass all the way back to the good ol' times."
"You know before women could vote, and all the freaky flowers knew their special place in the attic. Where no one could see the freaky kids outside in the light, learning how to spell water and shit on their palms over and over."
"Horrible Helen Keller references aside ...I don't think so." I shake off the thought. "Way too many people I don't care about will be there."
I actually considered going to the game for a second. If just to placate Butchy the next time I see him on Monday. When he asks the obligatory: "Did you see Butch smash that flocker on the flats? Yeah, he got his penis paralyzed. But flock them ...you don't come into my flocking house and expect to see the tomorrows."
"Wait, I thought you and the Butcher Boy were like besties now, in your little high five hug club?" May starts snickering. "Don't tell me you're jealous of the other guys he keeps accidentally preying on out on the field?"
"Wrong again, Maybe." I have to negate that otherness away. "Narrowly avoiding getting my ass handed to me at Da Frost is about as far as our relationship has progressed to date. So I think I am going to have to take the pass on that waste of time."
"But your gonna miss out watching my sister bend over a lot, in her super shorty skirt. To show her spanky underwear to the thousands of cheering Neanderthals, who showed to see her first peep show." May smirks slyly. "Oh and there's this one part in the halftime jumping jack underwear show where she does a double backflip. Then lands on her private parts, when the entire stadium stands moan 'Oooo...ahhh'. I understand it's very satisfying for everyone involved."
I am almost tempted to tell her about Butchy's brain-damaged dream of Someone's Sister's spirits splits. But as May has correctly pointed out more than once, only she gets to say mean things about her sister, thanks to the sister only thing.
"So I take it you're going then?" I play along.
"O hella no, that's all April's show and tell time." May shakes me off. "My Momster and Daddy are going to see their little pole hole in action for the first time. So that should be an eye-opening experience. Not totally unlike dragging a blind girl to a football game? Then surrounding her with highly agitated, not to mention possible drunk Falcon faithful screaming their way to another winning season. I do so love school spirits...especial the keening banshees and the boo birds of bad calls."
"No, I'm taking in some much needed me time. Either at home or The Maltese, depending on what's playing and if a can find an escort." She smiles sweetly up at me through her nightshades. "So do you know any age-appropriate fellow unfaithful Falcon, with a decided lack of enthusiasm for God's Game who likes old movies?"
It takes me a second to parse through the winding words and unweave her tapestry of traps. After sensing my way through the potential snares that she has laid out in front of me as choices, starting with taking a blind girl to the movies. I go with the most obvious thing to say under the circumstances.
"Why Maybe, are you asking me out on a date?" I try to imbue my inquiry with some wry sly.
"Okay yeah, if you're gonna get all technical about it, I guess I am asking you out on a date." May snorts sardonically. "You know ...to make up for my ever so slight overreaction to you're asking me out for lunch and a drowning."
"So if you like old movies and you can tolerate snoring Raisins. Who insist on sneaking in loud plastic bags full of their own snacks and sodas into the theater. In spite of the ongoing darkside protest that's been filed with management ...repeatedly, I might add. Then sure, why not?"
"Well, I have been going in for that death by misadventure thing of late?" I muse for her amusement. "So what's playing anyways?"
"The Third Man with Orson Wells." May beams happily.
"Harry Lime?" I mug appreciatively.
"I love Harry Lime! He taught me more about morality and the true nature of the world than that seven years of Sunday school I wasted." May swoons slightly. "Harry was like the cool criminal uncle I never had. Who rescued me from an ordinary life, and then raised me on lies, deceits, and deceptions. Uncle Harry showed me the truth. That heroes are only what you make out of them. Right up until you light them on fire and watch them burn for fun."
"But wasn't he like the worst criminal ever?" I chide her along. "What kind of life is that for a child?"
"Hey easy there dude, that's my favorite uncle you're talking about." May adopts a defensive posture. "Besides ol' Uncle Harry had a rough childhood, so we forgive him his past lives."
"Well, in that case, I guess we have to go then." I sigh mockingly. "I mean he is your uncle after all?"
"Okay then, so it's like a blind date?" May laughs wickedly. "Muh ha ha ha...get it? We're going on a date and I'm..."
"Yeah, I don't get it? Is this like that one 'I'm going to the beach' game? Where you have to guess what the other person is taking to the beach, based on the last letter of the last thing they said? So I'm going to the movies and I am bringing a ...May?"
"Damn dude, I think we seriously need to work on your concept of subtlety." She smirks ruefully.
So with our first "Big Blind Date" in the immediate future, we spend the rest of that lunch coming up with the myriad of ways to mess with people's heads, if they ask May the obvious. By the end of lunch, we finally decide on the Top Five reasons to go blind in no particular order:
The classic Mayan Eclipse Myth. ( EI. Staring at the eclipsing sun too long.)
Sitting too close to the TV. The all-time standard parenting everywhere go-to.
The excessive misuse of secret Tibetan Tantric self-touching techniques.
BB guns, ala The Christmas Story. Which turns out to be one of May's favorite movies thanks to all the voice-over narration.
And last but not least, the side effects of a new strain of Mononucleosis called Zombie Mono. That leaves it's victims blind, as well as blonde and dumb. Which as it turns out is especially rampant among high school Cheerleaders.
All in all, I think May ended lunch on a lot happier note, than when we started off with my stupid "Can I ask you a question?" question. I know she was especially pleased with herself because of what happened alter that night on Blind Date Night at the Maltese.