Eye to Eye
Vision, in my opinion, is the sense that everyone takes for granted. I think this is especially true if you are a photographer, painter, sculptor, or musician. Now I know that that last profession is the oddball out, but it's true; musicians rely heavily on their eyes to play their instruments.
And the only reason I say this is because I'm an artist; a sculptor, to be exact. But I'm also blind. That's when I stopped painting and started sculpting.
For the past year, I've had a live-in assistant. She stays in the spare bedroom in my studio apartment in Chicago. She has a son that's she spoken of numerous times, but I've never met him, and she says it's because of her job here with me. She says that he's in college, and stays with his father -- and her ex-husband -- when he comes home on breaks. I may not be able to see, but I can hear that she's very sad that she doesn't get to see her son when he comes home from school, because she always sounds extremely excited when he calls her. I wonder if he's ever suggested coming over here and meeting her, but then I wonder if Linda has rejected this idea because she doesn't want him to meet me. And that's where my wondering stops because I just don't want to think about why that is.
The morning I awoke, it was a Tuesday, and I could feel something was different in the air; something completely out of my ordinary routine was going to happen today. "Linda," I called.
I heard her shuffle into the room a few minutes later. She yawned and I heard the small noises of her clothes as she stretched. "Good morning, Gerard," she said sleepily. "Are we ready to get up?"
I nodded and began to sit up. I relished the things that I could still do mostly by myself, if not completely. "Did I wake you up, Linda?"
She yawned again. "Yeah, but it's alright."
"What time did you get to sleep last night?" I asked, sounding more like a concerned parent talking to their teenager than two adults speaking with each other early in the morning.
"About one o'clock," she answered.
"And what time is it now?"
"Eight o'clock."
I clucked my tongue. "Linda, I apologize for waking you. I'll let you take a nap this afternoon while I'm sculpting, alright?" I suggested.
She began to help me out of bed, and I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "You're too sweet, Gerard. I'll just be on the couch for you, okay?"
I smiled widely as my feet touched the carpeted floor. "Oh, Linda, you're a doll."
I knew she was smiling again as we walked out of the room. Linda sat me down at the small table in the kitchen and then asked, "So would you like tea or coffee this morning?"
I thought for a moment, and I heard Linda's footsteps leave and shortly reenter the room. She placed something in my hand, something plastic, and I grinned as I placed my sunglasses on my face. "You are amazing, Linda, what would I do without you?"
She patted my shoulder and her footsteps continued over to the other of the kitchen. "You would probably be one big bruise, honey," she said, and I chuckled.
"Tea this morning, please, Linda," I finally answered.
"Coming right up. And I was thinking of making pepper-and-onion omelettes for breakfast?"
"Oh, Linda, that sounds delightful!"
- - - - -
Okay, so perhaps nothing special was going to happen today; but I still felt like something was going to happen soon, something different. And finally, I was right.
One afternoon, Linda and I were having dinner, her vegetarian lasagna, when I heard her phone's shrill ring sound across the small kitchen. "Excuse me," she said. There was a short pause. "Hello?"
There was a small voice echoing from the tinny speaker.
"Frank!" Linda exclaimed. I set my fork down to listen more closely. She was listening to whatever the voice on the speaker was saying, and she sounded like she was hardly breathing. Something had to be wrong.
"Linda, is everything alright?" I asked quietly.
She didn't respond to me, but to her son on the phone. "Really? Just now?" she asked, shocked.
Oh, dear, I thought. This is very wrong.
"Oh, well, uhm..." Linda said, trailing off. "I'm very sorry, dear. How...How did he go?" There was another pause as she listened to the answer. "Well, at least it was peaceful." There was another long pause as Linda listened to whatever her son was saying to her through the phone. "Frank, I'm here with Gerard, and I have to take care of him, there's nowhere for you -" I cut her off by placing my hand on the first part of her I could reach, which happened to be her arm.
"Linda, I can make room for him. It's okay. Besides, he's your son," I told her quietly.
"Frank, don't worry, everything's going to be okay. Gerard and I will be by tomorrow to pick you up. Will you be okay by yourself for a night?" She chuckled. "I still worry about you, Frankie, you're still my little boy!" There was another, shorter pause. "Alright, well you take care of yourself now, sweetheart, we'll see you tomorrow. I love you. Alright, bye." I heard Linda snap the small phone shut, and then she took a deep breath.
"Is everything alright, Linda?" I asked again.
"Yes, Gerard," she said wearily.
"Well, you're not going to tell me anything even if I say so, so pointing out that you're clearly lying is useless," I said.
Linda sighed. "Has your lasagna gone cold?" I didn't get a chance to respond. "I'm sorry," she said, and sighed again.
My hand was still on Linda's arm, and I squeezed it. "Linda," I said softly. "It's okay. People die. Some just go at the worst times in our lives."
She was smiling, I knew it. "There's a crème brulée in the refrigerator if you would like some," she suggested.
I smiled. "Yes, that sounds lovely."
- - - - -
I woke up shortly before Linda came in the next morning. "Gerard? Come along, wake up now. We have to go and fetch my son, remember?"
"Yes, Linda, I remember. The bleach affected my eyes, not my brain."
Linda chuckled. "Let's get you showered and dressed in something nice to meet Frank in."
Linda got me in a navy polo short and khaki pants, and then I sat in the living room listening to the television while Linda got herself ready. She came out into the living room and turned off the television right before we left, and handed me my sunglasses before she heaved me off the couch and out the front door of my apartment. I heard the lock click and we walked down the hall to the elevator.
When we were belted in her car, Linda didn't turn the ignition on right away. She took a deep breath and I heard her hands squeak against the leather of the steering wheel. "Linda," I said reassuringly. "It'll be okay."
"He was my ex-husband, Gerard."
"You're more worried about your son," I said.
She chuckled humorlessly. "I should really learn that I can't hide things from you."
I smiled. "Just be glad that he's grown, and not a child, or else this would be a lot worse."
Linda took another deep breath and started the car. "You always know just what to say, Gerard."
"At least I'm good for something," I said with a shrug.
"Oh, shush!" Linda squealed.
The ride took about forty-five minutes, according to Linda. She was yelling futilely at the other drivers, telling them to move, and she complained that the drive usually only takes a half hour as we pulled into what I assumed was the driveway in which we were picking up Frank.
Linda parked and turned off the car, and then put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll be right back, I have to go and find Frank." I just nodded and sat in the car, the air conditioning on low; how thoughtful of Linda.
"You really have a lot of stuff, Frank, I'm not sure it's all going to fit in my car, let alone in Gerard's apartment," I heard Linda say as she approached the car.
"Remember that there's half the backseat, Linda," I called through the window. I bet Linda smiled at that; she always does when I point out obvious things she overlooks. I also heard the very faint chuckle of Linda's son. It was a light chuckle, airy, but deep enough to let me assume he was probably close to 20. Besides, Linda told me he was in college.
"Right," I heard Linda say. "Frankie, start getting your stuff and we'll see how much we can fit in my car."
"Mom," I heard Frank say. "That's my car in the garage. Why don't we try and fit as much as possible in your car without over-stuffing, and I'll put the rest in my car and follow you back?"
Linda had to be beaming at that statement; he was a logical kid. "College must be paying off," she said happily, and I heard Frank chuckle again.
I heard one of them open the driver's side door. Whomever it was, I said to them, "I wouldn't mind holding something on my lap."
"Oh, Gerard, that's okay, you don't have to do that," Linda gushed. I smiled at her. After that, all I heard were small familial exchanges, and the clunks of suitcases and boxes being loaded into the trunk and backseat. I then felt the car shake as Linda got back into the driver's seat and turned the ignition on.
"Frank had a few extra boxes that wouldn't fit in my car, so he put them in his, and he's gonna follow us back, okay?"
"Alright," I answered simply.
"Are you anxious to meet Frank, Gerard?" Linda, asked, before the car started to move.
In my mind, I nodded; Linda saw me not answer. I don't know why, but I didn't want Linda to see that I was anxious to meet Frank. With all her descriptions of him, I had certain expectations, and now that I was actually going to meet him, I didn't know whether he would exceed or fail to meet those expectations.
Linda was correct earlier, though, about the drive; she told me that the drive back only took a half hour. On the way back, Linda complained about the traffic that impeded our way there, but I'm not sure why. I just sat there and listened to her, which was just about the only thing I was good for anymore. I felt the car pull into the parking lot by my apartment complex, the sense of familiarity returning, and I heard a second car pull in next to it. Linda opened the driver's side door, and I heard her call to Frank, "Let me get Gerard inside, and then I'll come back out and help you move your things in, okay?"
"Of course, Mom, let me just get a box to bring up," Frank answered. I heard his car door shut.
"Of course, dear. We'll keep the elevator open for you."
"Will I get a key?" I heard Frank ask.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'll ask about that for you," Linda called to him. I heard the pause in her voice; Linda still couldn't cope with the fact that she didn't see Frank. I felt quite responsible for this, but I didn't let it show as Linda led me up to the elevator. She hated seeing me feel guilty for the things that I couldn't control because I was blind, but I always felt like it was my fault that I was blind in the first place.
- - - - -
It was probably hours before Linda moved me from the living room to the kitchen. I couldn't keep track of time, and I wasn't really wondering anyway, because Linda had put on a Harry Potter movie for me.
"Do you want some tea, boys?" Linda asked.
"That would be lovely, Linda," I said.
"Frank?"
"Sure, Mom," he said simply. His voice came from across the table, so he was sitting in the place that Linda always sat, and he sounded extremely distressed.
"Gerard, do you have an extra chair?" Linda asked.
"I think somewhere...I really haven't seen my apartment in about a year, so I'm not entirely sure." I chuckled darkly. Linda made a disapproving noise as she passed me to search my apartment.
"My mom's rude, sorry," I heard Frank say. He reached out and softly took my hand in his. "I'm Frank."
I smiled and lightly shook his hand. "I'm Gerard. I've heard great things about you."
"My mom doesn't shut up about me, so I could believe that," Frank said.
I chuckled lightly. "Could I ask you something, Frank?"
He hadn't let go of my hand. "Yeah, of course," Frank answered.
"Could you come next to me? I'd like to...get a feel for you." I chuckled at my own joke.
Frank let go of my hand. Surely Linda had warned him of this? "Y-yeah, of - of course," he said nervously. I heard his chair scrape back as he stood up.
"Don't be afraid, Frank. This is just how I see people. It's how most blind people see; they use their hands to form visions in their minds." I heard Frank chuckle from my left side, and then I turned in his general direction. I reached out my hands and they met his face; the first thing I noticed was the softness of his skin.
My hands began to move and I took in his soft lips, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, the width of his forehead, his fine hair. A vision drew itself in my mind of a beautiful young man, and I wanted to know more.
My hands traveled down his neck and over his chest, as far as I could reach without tipping out of my chair. The vision became clearer in my mind, and what I saw was beautiful. I wanted him. I wanted him worse than I had wanted anything. Well, besides the return of my sight, of course.
The vision cleared away in my mind and I noticed Frank's breathing had increased, while mine had all but stopped. Frank stood and cleared his throat awkwardly. The whistle on the kettle had begun to screech, and I heard the grunts of Linda lugging the chair into the kitchen. "Frank, sweetheart, could you take this chair while I get the kettle?" she asked, breaking the silence and sounding overly loud.
I heard Frank set the chair down on the side of the table without a word to his mother. The screeching of the kettle's whistle lessened until it died down completely. "How long until the tea's ready, Mom?" Frank asked.
"Just a few minutes, dear, the tea bags have to soak," Linda answered. "Did my son introduce himself?" she asked me.
"Yes, as soon as you left to get the extra chair," I replied.
"Isn't he adorable?" Linda gushed.
I felt my cheeks go slightly pink. Frank coughed to fill the silence.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," Linda said, realizing her subtle mistake.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Linda, don't worry about it." I smiled, somewhat forcibly, to try and lighten the air. "Now how about the tea?"
Linda felt terrible about the miniscule mistake she made, and wouldn't stop bringing it up in the lulls of conversation.
At the fifth mention, Frank yelled, "Mom!" There was a very thick silence between the three of us, and I heard both Linda and Frank sip their tea loudly.
"So, Gerard," Frank began. I directed my ears at him. "Can I ask you what's probably a really personal question?"
"I have a feeling I know what you're going to ask, but go ahead," I said.
"How did you go blind?"
I smiled. Linda said, "Good luck getting that out of him. I've been trying for the past year, and to no avail."
I snorted; she was right, and both were going to be surprised when I actually told them the story. "Well," I began.
I heard Linda sputter. "You're actually going to tell him the story??" she squeaked.
I chuckled. "I think you both deserve to know. I think I've been putting off telling you, Linda, with all the shit I've put you through having to deal with me for the past year. This is the story of how I went blind.
"So settle in, kiddies, this is gonna be a long one. It all started just about a year ago. I don't know if you know this, Linda, but I used to paint. And I used to be quite good. Now, I wouldn't sell my paintings, but I would have small parties -- you could say -- to show off the most recent paintings I had done. And it was the greatest feeling, that feeling that you've really found what you want to do, and all your work culminates into one fantastic moment of praise, and -- oh, you both have no idea what it was like."
I felt Linda's hand over mine, and Frank said, "I know how you feel."
I grinned. "Anyway, when I would finish a painting I thought was worthy of being put out in one of my little shows, I would hang it on the far wall," I continued.
"The one I say should have some windows?" Linda asked.
I chuckled. "Yes, that one."
"But it's completely white," Frank remarked.
"Exactly," I said. "It was a Saturday, and I was having my mother over for dinner. I was hanging up a painting I had just finished, and was feeling quite proud of, when it missed the nail in the wall it was going to hang on for the show and the corner fell into an open can of paint on the floor below it, splattering paint all over the white wall. Well, paint is supposed to get on the canvases, not on my wall, so I rushed to get the paint bleach out of the hall closet and splashed the small amount onto the wall before the paint dried. I stood too close, though, and some of the bleach splashed back onto my face. My mom was there to take me to the hospital, luckily, but...the last thing I saw was that wall," I finished, taking a deep breath. Linda and Frank were part of the small handful that knew the whole story.
"Thanks," Frank said quietly. I raised an eyebrow, but Frank just muttered, "I'll say later."
Linda went to bed earlier than she usually does, because I was still awake. This left Frank and I alone on the couch with the end of a television show Frank keeps up with.
"What were you saying earlier when we were all having tea, Frank?" I asked.
"Oh, I thanked you for telling the story of how you went blind," he answered brightly.
"Yes, I remember that, but why?"
"Because it let me know that you think I'm different."
"That's because you are," I said.
I heard Frank shift on the couch. "How so?"
"Frank, for the past year, I've spoken with only my parents and your mother. Now that you have to stay here in between semesters of college and on breaks, it's like I have a completely new life. When you're blind, you relish every now day thing that happens, no matter how big or small."
"Oh," said Frank simply. "Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course."
"What was all that hands stuff really for?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm blind, Frank. When you lose one sense, the other get stronger. I use touch to draw up pictures in my mind of what people look like," I explained.
"Okay." Frank paused. "Well, I wish you could feel the blush on my face."
I reached my hand out towards Frank, and I felt his warm cheek meet my fingertips. I gasped lightly, but didn't move my fingers. "I can," I said.
"Well that makes things a little easier," Frank murmured. My fingers spread out onto his cheek, holding his face.
"Can I just say how soft your skin is?" I said.
I heard Frank chuckle. "Thanks. I get it from my mom."
I smiled at him. "Are your lips as soft as your skin?"
I felt Frank's lips curve into my hand as a smile. "Would you like to find out?" he asked.
"Oh, indeed."
I felt Frank's cold hand on the back of my neck, and I shivered as he drew me close to him. The hand on my neck drew us closer and closer until I felt our noses touch, and then it was our lips. I was wrong; his lips were even softer than his skin. At that moment, I wanted all of him, every inch.
Frank must have shared in that moment's feelings, because he slung his arms around my neck and drew me even closer to him, our bodies inches away from each other. We continued to kiss, each one more passionate than the previous.
When we finally pulled apart, I kept my hand on Frank's cheek, but Frank took it down and held it in his own. I could hear his rapid breathing above mine and I squeezed his hand. "Frank."
"Gerard?"
"Take me to bed. Turn off the television before we go, you're staying with me tonight."
"Oh," Frank breathed. I heard the television go off, and then felt him tug me off of the couch. He led me to my bedroom, made obvious by the fact that it was the only open door in the apartment.
"I would ask you why the room is so bare, but you can't see, so that settles that," Frank said when we entered the bedroom.
I chuckled. "Take off your shirt when we get to the bed, okay?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
"Yeah," Frank muttered, leading me to the bed. I felt the soft quilt underneath me, and Frank was quiet. he then grabbed my hands and put them on his shoulders; they were bare. I gasped again and squeezed his shoulders lightly. I took a few seconds to regain my composure, and then gingerly moved my hands down Frank's chest.
Frank took in breath sharply when my fingers grazed his chest. "Good evening, abs," I murmured.
Frank grabbed one of my hands and I felt his cheeks again; warmer than before. "You're good at making me do that," he said.
I chuckled lightly and felt my way back up Frank's chest to shoulders, and then grabbed his hands. I brought them up to my face and kissed them both, then placed them at the hem of my shirt.
Frank hesitated at first, but I felt his fingers skitter up my sides, bringing my polo with them, and I lifted my arms to help get the shirt off. I heard the very soft plop of the shirt on the floor and Frank gasped, then exhaled shakily. "You're...gorgeous," he breathed.
"Th - thank you," I said. "I haven't seen myself for a year, so I just try and keep myself healthy."
"Well I guess I should be thanking my mom, then," Frank remarked.
I chuckled again. "I suppose you do."
"Come here," I said.
"Why?" Frank asked.
"Just c'mere," I repeated, sticking out my hands.
Frank's face was in my hands after a few seconds, and I leaned forward, hoping Frank would get the message. He did, and our lips met again in a sweet kiss. Frank didn't want to pull away, though, so he pushed me backwards onto my bed and put my hands on his belt buckle, kissing me all the while. I had to pull back to say around Frank's mouth, "Frank."
"Mmf," he replied.
"Frank, I can't see."
He stopped sucking on my neck abruptly and detached with a soft sucking noise. "Right. Sorry." Frank sat back, out of my reach.
"Frank..." He didn't respond; instead, I heard the metal clink of the belt buckle I just had my fingers on. Next came the rustle of denim on skin, and I heard the light plop of the denim on the carpet. My mouth fell open.
"Do you need help with yours?" Frank murmured.
"Uh - uhm -" I stuttered. I opened and closed my mouth several times while I felt the bed dip as Frank moved closer.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of my khakis, and I felt them loosen, then them slowly sliding off my legs. Cool air washed over my naked body, and I actually felt awkward being naked, because it was in front of someone who wasn't Linda.
"Are you nervous, Gerard?" I heard Frank ask, his fingers lingering by my waist.
My eyes were wide behind my sunglasses and it took me a second to find my voice. "Extremely," I answered as confidently as I could.
Frank chuckled lightly and said, "It's okay, so am I." He grabbed my right hand and I felt his cheeks again: warm. He then took my hand down below his waist. I assumed he was kneeling because his dick was right at arm's length. "But I also really want you," Frank added.
I only nodded in agreement; I couldn't speak for some reason.
"But there's something I want to do first," he said.
"And what is that?" I asked hoarsely.
"Take off your sunglasses."
I froze. I never took off my sunglasses, except when I slept and showered. Linda has been the only person to see my eyes underneath; not even my own mother has seen them. And I was about to figure out if letting Frank see them was a mistake or not. "Okay," I said nervously.
"You can keep your eyes closed, if that's what you wanna do, but I just don't want them to break when I'm pounding you into your bed," Frank said.
"Oh, that's how it's going to be?" I asked.
"Mmm, yes," Frank hummed.
"Well let's stop drawing it out," I said and reached up and took my sunglasses off my face, folding them and holding them out for Frank to take. He took the hand that the sunglasses were in, kissed it, then used it to flip me onto my stomach.
"Sounds like a great idea," Frank muttered into my ear and then kissed my shoulder. His hands smoothed themselves down my side and rested on my ass, squeezing it.
Wasting no more time, Frank pushed the tip of dick into my entrance and I groaned into the pillow by my face. "Just tell me when to move, okay?"
"I kind of like the pain," I groaned into the pillow, which just muffled my voice.
"Well, then," Frank murmured, and he then pushed all the way in.
I had to clench my teeth together tightly to prevent myself from yelling and waking Linda. It just hurt so good, and I wanted it all. "More," I grunted.
"Yeah? You want more?" Frank said breathily.
"Please," I breathed back, unaware if he could hear me.
He did hear me, because he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, making me clench my teeth together again.
Faster and faster Frank went, in and out, until he breathed out loudly and collapsed on top of me. My dick was twitching painfully against the fabric of the quilt, and I breathed to Frank, "Help me, please."
He rolled off of me and then rolled me over onto my back again, both of us breathing heavily. I heard Frank shift on the bed, and i felt the mattress around me dip until I felt Frank's hands on my thighs and his lips around my dick.
My eyes, which I had kept closed like Frank said, shot open at the sensation. His lips were so soft...Some time later, I felt an unfamiliar warmth in the pit of my stomach, but knew that this was it somewhere. In a few moments, I had exploded into Frank's mouth, mine wide open in a silent yell. I felt Frank crawl back up beside me, and heard him smack his lips. "Your eyes," Frank said in surprise when my breathing had slowed. "They're open."
"I know," I responded almost immediately. "They're terrifying, aren't they? Hideous," I said, turning my face away from Frank.
Frank turned my face back towards his and kissed me lightly. "No, they're not at all. I find them weirdly beautiful." I didn't say anything, unsure of how to take Frank's remark. "They're kinda really cool, actually. Just wait till all my friends hear that my boyfriend's blind. And his eyes are cream-colored!"
I felt my cheeks heat up and I smiled. "Now you're the one making me blush," I said, and snuggled into Frank's chest right next to me. "I wish I could see how beautiful your eyes are," I murmured after a moment.
I felt Frank begin to stroke my hair. "Maybe someday."
And the only reason I say this is because I'm an artist; a sculptor, to be exact. But I'm also blind. That's when I stopped painting and started sculpting.
For the past year, I've had a live-in assistant. She stays in the spare bedroom in my studio apartment in Chicago. She has a son that's she spoken of numerous times, but I've never met him, and she says it's because of her job here with me. She says that he's in college, and stays with his father -- and her ex-husband -- when he comes home on breaks. I may not be able to see, but I can hear that she's very sad that she doesn't get to see her son when he comes home from school, because she always sounds extremely excited when he calls her. I wonder if he's ever suggested coming over here and meeting her, but then I wonder if Linda has rejected this idea because she doesn't want him to meet me. And that's where my wondering stops because I just don't want to think about why that is.
The morning I awoke, it was a Tuesday, and I could feel something was different in the air; something completely out of my ordinary routine was going to happen today. "Linda," I called.
I heard her shuffle into the room a few minutes later. She yawned and I heard the small noises of her clothes as she stretched. "Good morning, Gerard," she said sleepily. "Are we ready to get up?"
I nodded and began to sit up. I relished the things that I could still do mostly by myself, if not completely. "Did I wake you up, Linda?"
She yawned again. "Yeah, but it's alright."
"What time did you get to sleep last night?" I asked, sounding more like a concerned parent talking to their teenager than two adults speaking with each other early in the morning.
"About one o'clock," she answered.
"And what time is it now?"
"Eight o'clock."
I clucked my tongue. "Linda, I apologize for waking you. I'll let you take a nap this afternoon while I'm sculpting, alright?" I suggested.
She began to help me out of bed, and I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "You're too sweet, Gerard. I'll just be on the couch for you, okay?"
I smiled widely as my feet touched the carpeted floor. "Oh, Linda, you're a doll."
I knew she was smiling again as we walked out of the room. Linda sat me down at the small table in the kitchen and then asked, "So would you like tea or coffee this morning?"
I thought for a moment, and I heard Linda's footsteps leave and shortly reenter the room. She placed something in my hand, something plastic, and I grinned as I placed my sunglasses on my face. "You are amazing, Linda, what would I do without you?"
She patted my shoulder and her footsteps continued over to the other of the kitchen. "You would probably be one big bruise, honey," she said, and I chuckled.
"Tea this morning, please, Linda," I finally answered.
"Coming right up. And I was thinking of making pepper-and-onion omelettes for breakfast?"
"Oh, Linda, that sounds delightful!"
- - - - -
Okay, so perhaps nothing special was going to happen today; but I still felt like something was going to happen soon, something different. And finally, I was right.
One afternoon, Linda and I were having dinner, her vegetarian lasagna, when I heard her phone's shrill ring sound across the small kitchen. "Excuse me," she said. There was a short pause. "Hello?"
There was a small voice echoing from the tinny speaker.
"Frank!" Linda exclaimed. I set my fork down to listen more closely. She was listening to whatever the voice on the speaker was saying, and she sounded like she was hardly breathing. Something had to be wrong.
"Linda, is everything alright?" I asked quietly.
She didn't respond to me, but to her son on the phone. "Really? Just now?" she asked, shocked.
Oh, dear, I thought. This is very wrong.
"Oh, well, uhm..." Linda said, trailing off. "I'm very sorry, dear. How...How did he go?" There was another pause as she listened to the answer. "Well, at least it was peaceful." There was another long pause as Linda listened to whatever her son was saying to her through the phone. "Frank, I'm here with Gerard, and I have to take care of him, there's nowhere for you -" I cut her off by placing my hand on the first part of her I could reach, which happened to be her arm.
"Linda, I can make room for him. It's okay. Besides, he's your son," I told her quietly.
"Frank, don't worry, everything's going to be okay. Gerard and I will be by tomorrow to pick you up. Will you be okay by yourself for a night?" She chuckled. "I still worry about you, Frankie, you're still my little boy!" There was another, shorter pause. "Alright, well you take care of yourself now, sweetheart, we'll see you tomorrow. I love you. Alright, bye." I heard Linda snap the small phone shut, and then she took a deep breath.
"Is everything alright, Linda?" I asked again.
"Yes, Gerard," she said wearily.
"Well, you're not going to tell me anything even if I say so, so pointing out that you're clearly lying is useless," I said.
Linda sighed. "Has your lasagna gone cold?" I didn't get a chance to respond. "I'm sorry," she said, and sighed again.
My hand was still on Linda's arm, and I squeezed it. "Linda," I said softly. "It's okay. People die. Some just go at the worst times in our lives."
She was smiling, I knew it. "There's a crème brulée in the refrigerator if you would like some," she suggested.
I smiled. "Yes, that sounds lovely."
- - - - -
I woke up shortly before Linda came in the next morning. "Gerard? Come along, wake up now. We have to go and fetch my son, remember?"
"Yes, Linda, I remember. The bleach affected my eyes, not my brain."
Linda chuckled. "Let's get you showered and dressed in something nice to meet Frank in."
Linda got me in a navy polo short and khaki pants, and then I sat in the living room listening to the television while Linda got herself ready. She came out into the living room and turned off the television right before we left, and handed me my sunglasses before she heaved me off the couch and out the front door of my apartment. I heard the lock click and we walked down the hall to the elevator.
When we were belted in her car, Linda didn't turn the ignition on right away. She took a deep breath and I heard her hands squeak against the leather of the steering wheel. "Linda," I said reassuringly. "It'll be okay."
"He was my ex-husband, Gerard."
"You're more worried about your son," I said.
She chuckled humorlessly. "I should really learn that I can't hide things from you."
I smiled. "Just be glad that he's grown, and not a child, or else this would be a lot worse."
Linda took another deep breath and started the car. "You always know just what to say, Gerard."
"At least I'm good for something," I said with a shrug.
"Oh, shush!" Linda squealed.
The ride took about forty-five minutes, according to Linda. She was yelling futilely at the other drivers, telling them to move, and she complained that the drive usually only takes a half hour as we pulled into what I assumed was the driveway in which we were picking up Frank.
Linda parked and turned off the car, and then put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll be right back, I have to go and find Frank." I just nodded and sat in the car, the air conditioning on low; how thoughtful of Linda.
"You really have a lot of stuff, Frank, I'm not sure it's all going to fit in my car, let alone in Gerard's apartment," I heard Linda say as she approached the car.
"Remember that there's half the backseat, Linda," I called through the window. I bet Linda smiled at that; she always does when I point out obvious things she overlooks. I also heard the very faint chuckle of Linda's son. It was a light chuckle, airy, but deep enough to let me assume he was probably close to 20. Besides, Linda told me he was in college.
"Right," I heard Linda say. "Frankie, start getting your stuff and we'll see how much we can fit in my car."
"Mom," I heard Frank say. "That's my car in the garage. Why don't we try and fit as much as possible in your car without over-stuffing, and I'll put the rest in my car and follow you back?"
Linda had to be beaming at that statement; he was a logical kid. "College must be paying off," she said happily, and I heard Frank chuckle again.
I heard one of them open the driver's side door. Whomever it was, I said to them, "I wouldn't mind holding something on my lap."
"Oh, Gerard, that's okay, you don't have to do that," Linda gushed. I smiled at her. After that, all I heard were small familial exchanges, and the clunks of suitcases and boxes being loaded into the trunk and backseat. I then felt the car shake as Linda got back into the driver's seat and turned the ignition on.
"Frank had a few extra boxes that wouldn't fit in my car, so he put them in his, and he's gonna follow us back, okay?"
"Alright," I answered simply.
"Are you anxious to meet Frank, Gerard?" Linda, asked, before the car started to move.
In my mind, I nodded; Linda saw me not answer. I don't know why, but I didn't want Linda to see that I was anxious to meet Frank. With all her descriptions of him, I had certain expectations, and now that I was actually going to meet him, I didn't know whether he would exceed or fail to meet those expectations.
Linda was correct earlier, though, about the drive; she told me that the drive back only took a half hour. On the way back, Linda complained about the traffic that impeded our way there, but I'm not sure why. I just sat there and listened to her, which was just about the only thing I was good for anymore. I felt the car pull into the parking lot by my apartment complex, the sense of familiarity returning, and I heard a second car pull in next to it. Linda opened the driver's side door, and I heard her call to Frank, "Let me get Gerard inside, and then I'll come back out and help you move your things in, okay?"
"Of course, Mom, let me just get a box to bring up," Frank answered. I heard his car door shut.
"Of course, dear. We'll keep the elevator open for you."
"Will I get a key?" I heard Frank ask.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'll ask about that for you," Linda called to him. I heard the pause in her voice; Linda still couldn't cope with the fact that she didn't see Frank. I felt quite responsible for this, but I didn't let it show as Linda led me up to the elevator. She hated seeing me feel guilty for the things that I couldn't control because I was blind, but I always felt like it was my fault that I was blind in the first place.
- - - - -
It was probably hours before Linda moved me from the living room to the kitchen. I couldn't keep track of time, and I wasn't really wondering anyway, because Linda had put on a Harry Potter movie for me.
"Do you want some tea, boys?" Linda asked.
"That would be lovely, Linda," I said.
"Frank?"
"Sure, Mom," he said simply. His voice came from across the table, so he was sitting in the place that Linda always sat, and he sounded extremely distressed.
"Gerard, do you have an extra chair?" Linda asked.
"I think somewhere...I really haven't seen my apartment in about a year, so I'm not entirely sure." I chuckled darkly. Linda made a disapproving noise as she passed me to search my apartment.
"My mom's rude, sorry," I heard Frank say. He reached out and softly took my hand in his. "I'm Frank."
I smiled and lightly shook his hand. "I'm Gerard. I've heard great things about you."
"My mom doesn't shut up about me, so I could believe that," Frank said.
I chuckled lightly. "Could I ask you something, Frank?"
He hadn't let go of my hand. "Yeah, of course," Frank answered.
"Could you come next to me? I'd like to...get a feel for you." I chuckled at my own joke.
Frank let go of my hand. Surely Linda had warned him of this? "Y-yeah, of - of course," he said nervously. I heard his chair scrape back as he stood up.
"Don't be afraid, Frank. This is just how I see people. It's how most blind people see; they use their hands to form visions in their minds." I heard Frank chuckle from my left side, and then I turned in his general direction. I reached out my hands and they met his face; the first thing I noticed was the softness of his skin.
My hands began to move and I took in his soft lips, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, the width of his forehead, his fine hair. A vision drew itself in my mind of a beautiful young man, and I wanted to know more.
My hands traveled down his neck and over his chest, as far as I could reach without tipping out of my chair. The vision became clearer in my mind, and what I saw was beautiful. I wanted him. I wanted him worse than I had wanted anything. Well, besides the return of my sight, of course.
The vision cleared away in my mind and I noticed Frank's breathing had increased, while mine had all but stopped. Frank stood and cleared his throat awkwardly. The whistle on the kettle had begun to screech, and I heard the grunts of Linda lugging the chair into the kitchen. "Frank, sweetheart, could you take this chair while I get the kettle?" she asked, breaking the silence and sounding overly loud.
I heard Frank set the chair down on the side of the table without a word to his mother. The screeching of the kettle's whistle lessened until it died down completely. "How long until the tea's ready, Mom?" Frank asked.
"Just a few minutes, dear, the tea bags have to soak," Linda answered. "Did my son introduce himself?" she asked me.
"Yes, as soon as you left to get the extra chair," I replied.
"Isn't he adorable?" Linda gushed.
I felt my cheeks go slightly pink. Frank coughed to fill the silence.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," Linda said, realizing her subtle mistake.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Linda, don't worry about it." I smiled, somewhat forcibly, to try and lighten the air. "Now how about the tea?"
Linda felt terrible about the miniscule mistake she made, and wouldn't stop bringing it up in the lulls of conversation.
At the fifth mention, Frank yelled, "Mom!" There was a very thick silence between the three of us, and I heard both Linda and Frank sip their tea loudly.
"So, Gerard," Frank began. I directed my ears at him. "Can I ask you what's probably a really personal question?"
"I have a feeling I know what you're going to ask, but go ahead," I said.
"How did you go blind?"
I smiled. Linda said, "Good luck getting that out of him. I've been trying for the past year, and to no avail."
I snorted; she was right, and both were going to be surprised when I actually told them the story. "Well," I began.
I heard Linda sputter. "You're actually going to tell him the story??" she squeaked.
I chuckled. "I think you both deserve to know. I think I've been putting off telling you, Linda, with all the shit I've put you through having to deal with me for the past year. This is the story of how I went blind.
"So settle in, kiddies, this is gonna be a long one. It all started just about a year ago. I don't know if you know this, Linda, but I used to paint. And I used to be quite good. Now, I wouldn't sell my paintings, but I would have small parties -- you could say -- to show off the most recent paintings I had done. And it was the greatest feeling, that feeling that you've really found what you want to do, and all your work culminates into one fantastic moment of praise, and -- oh, you both have no idea what it was like."
I felt Linda's hand over mine, and Frank said, "I know how you feel."
I grinned. "Anyway, when I would finish a painting I thought was worthy of being put out in one of my little shows, I would hang it on the far wall," I continued.
"The one I say should have some windows?" Linda asked.
I chuckled. "Yes, that one."
"But it's completely white," Frank remarked.
"Exactly," I said. "It was a Saturday, and I was having my mother over for dinner. I was hanging up a painting I had just finished, and was feeling quite proud of, when it missed the nail in the wall it was going to hang on for the show and the corner fell into an open can of paint on the floor below it, splattering paint all over the white wall. Well, paint is supposed to get on the canvases, not on my wall, so I rushed to get the paint bleach out of the hall closet and splashed the small amount onto the wall before the paint dried. I stood too close, though, and some of the bleach splashed back onto my face. My mom was there to take me to the hospital, luckily, but...the last thing I saw was that wall," I finished, taking a deep breath. Linda and Frank were part of the small handful that knew the whole story.
"Thanks," Frank said quietly. I raised an eyebrow, but Frank just muttered, "I'll say later."
Linda went to bed earlier than she usually does, because I was still awake. This left Frank and I alone on the couch with the end of a television show Frank keeps up with.
"What were you saying earlier when we were all having tea, Frank?" I asked.
"Oh, I thanked you for telling the story of how you went blind," he answered brightly.
"Yes, I remember that, but why?"
"Because it let me know that you think I'm different."
"That's because you are," I said.
I heard Frank shift on the couch. "How so?"
"Frank, for the past year, I've spoken with only my parents and your mother. Now that you have to stay here in between semesters of college and on breaks, it's like I have a completely new life. When you're blind, you relish every now day thing that happens, no matter how big or small."
"Oh," said Frank simply. "Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course."
"What was all that hands stuff really for?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm blind, Frank. When you lose one sense, the other get stronger. I use touch to draw up pictures in my mind of what people look like," I explained.
"Okay." Frank paused. "Well, I wish you could feel the blush on my face."
I reached my hand out towards Frank, and I felt his warm cheek meet my fingertips. I gasped lightly, but didn't move my fingers. "I can," I said.
"Well that makes things a little easier," Frank murmured. My fingers spread out onto his cheek, holding his face.
"Can I just say how soft your skin is?" I said.
I heard Frank chuckle. "Thanks. I get it from my mom."
I smiled at him. "Are your lips as soft as your skin?"
I felt Frank's lips curve into my hand as a smile. "Would you like to find out?" he asked.
"Oh, indeed."
I felt Frank's cold hand on the back of my neck, and I shivered as he drew me close to him. The hand on my neck drew us closer and closer until I felt our noses touch, and then it was our lips. I was wrong; his lips were even softer than his skin. At that moment, I wanted all of him, every inch.
Frank must have shared in that moment's feelings, because he slung his arms around my neck and drew me even closer to him, our bodies inches away from each other. We continued to kiss, each one more passionate than the previous.
When we finally pulled apart, I kept my hand on Frank's cheek, but Frank took it down and held it in his own. I could hear his rapid breathing above mine and I squeezed his hand. "Frank."
"Gerard?"
"Take me to bed. Turn off the television before we go, you're staying with me tonight."
"Oh," Frank breathed. I heard the television go off, and then felt him tug me off of the couch. He led me to my bedroom, made obvious by the fact that it was the only open door in the apartment.
"I would ask you why the room is so bare, but you can't see, so that settles that," Frank said when we entered the bedroom.
I chuckled. "Take off your shirt when we get to the bed, okay?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
"Yeah," Frank muttered, leading me to the bed. I felt the soft quilt underneath me, and Frank was quiet. he then grabbed my hands and put them on his shoulders; they were bare. I gasped again and squeezed his shoulders lightly. I took a few seconds to regain my composure, and then gingerly moved my hands down Frank's chest.
Frank took in breath sharply when my fingers grazed his chest. "Good evening, abs," I murmured.
Frank grabbed one of my hands and I felt his cheeks again; warmer than before. "You're good at making me do that," he said.
I chuckled lightly and felt my way back up Frank's chest to shoulders, and then grabbed his hands. I brought them up to my face and kissed them both, then placed them at the hem of my shirt.
Frank hesitated at first, but I felt his fingers skitter up my sides, bringing my polo with them, and I lifted my arms to help get the shirt off. I heard the very soft plop of the shirt on the floor and Frank gasped, then exhaled shakily. "You're...gorgeous," he breathed.
"Th - thank you," I said. "I haven't seen myself for a year, so I just try and keep myself healthy."
"Well I guess I should be thanking my mom, then," Frank remarked.
I chuckled again. "I suppose you do."
"Come here," I said.
"Why?" Frank asked.
"Just c'mere," I repeated, sticking out my hands.
Frank's face was in my hands after a few seconds, and I leaned forward, hoping Frank would get the message. He did, and our lips met again in a sweet kiss. Frank didn't want to pull away, though, so he pushed me backwards onto my bed and put my hands on his belt buckle, kissing me all the while. I had to pull back to say around Frank's mouth, "Frank."
"Mmf," he replied.
"Frank, I can't see."
He stopped sucking on my neck abruptly and detached with a soft sucking noise. "Right. Sorry." Frank sat back, out of my reach.
"Frank..." He didn't respond; instead, I heard the metal clink of the belt buckle I just had my fingers on. Next came the rustle of denim on skin, and I heard the light plop of the denim on the carpet. My mouth fell open.
"Do you need help with yours?" Frank murmured.
"Uh - uhm -" I stuttered. I opened and closed my mouth several times while I felt the bed dip as Frank moved closer.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of my khakis, and I felt them loosen, then them slowly sliding off my legs. Cool air washed over my naked body, and I actually felt awkward being naked, because it was in front of someone who wasn't Linda.
"Are you nervous, Gerard?" I heard Frank ask, his fingers lingering by my waist.
My eyes were wide behind my sunglasses and it took me a second to find my voice. "Extremely," I answered as confidently as I could.
Frank chuckled lightly and said, "It's okay, so am I." He grabbed my right hand and I felt his cheeks again: warm. He then took my hand down below his waist. I assumed he was kneeling because his dick was right at arm's length. "But I also really want you," Frank added.
I only nodded in agreement; I couldn't speak for some reason.
"But there's something I want to do first," he said.
"And what is that?" I asked hoarsely.
"Take off your sunglasses."
I froze. I never took off my sunglasses, except when I slept and showered. Linda has been the only person to see my eyes underneath; not even my own mother has seen them. And I was about to figure out if letting Frank see them was a mistake or not. "Okay," I said nervously.
"You can keep your eyes closed, if that's what you wanna do, but I just don't want them to break when I'm pounding you into your bed," Frank said.
"Oh, that's how it's going to be?" I asked.
"Mmm, yes," Frank hummed.
"Well let's stop drawing it out," I said and reached up and took my sunglasses off my face, folding them and holding them out for Frank to take. He took the hand that the sunglasses were in, kissed it, then used it to flip me onto my stomach.
"Sounds like a great idea," Frank muttered into my ear and then kissed my shoulder. His hands smoothed themselves down my side and rested on my ass, squeezing it.
Wasting no more time, Frank pushed the tip of dick into my entrance and I groaned into the pillow by my face. "Just tell me when to move, okay?"
"I kind of like the pain," I groaned into the pillow, which just muffled my voice.
"Well, then," Frank murmured, and he then pushed all the way in.
I had to clench my teeth together tightly to prevent myself from yelling and waking Linda. It just hurt so good, and I wanted it all. "More," I grunted.
"Yeah? You want more?" Frank said breathily.
"Please," I breathed back, unaware if he could hear me.
He did hear me, because he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, making me clench my teeth together again.
Faster and faster Frank went, in and out, until he breathed out loudly and collapsed on top of me. My dick was twitching painfully against the fabric of the quilt, and I breathed to Frank, "Help me, please."
He rolled off of me and then rolled me over onto my back again, both of us breathing heavily. I heard Frank shift on the bed, and i felt the mattress around me dip until I felt Frank's hands on my thighs and his lips around my dick.
My eyes, which I had kept closed like Frank said, shot open at the sensation. His lips were so soft...Some time later, I felt an unfamiliar warmth in the pit of my stomach, but knew that this was it somewhere. In a few moments, I had exploded into Frank's mouth, mine wide open in a silent yell. I felt Frank crawl back up beside me, and heard him smack his lips. "Your eyes," Frank said in surprise when my breathing had slowed. "They're open."
"I know," I responded almost immediately. "They're terrifying, aren't they? Hideous," I said, turning my face away from Frank.
Frank turned my face back towards his and kissed me lightly. "No, they're not at all. I find them weirdly beautiful." I didn't say anything, unsure of how to take Frank's remark. "They're kinda really cool, actually. Just wait till all my friends hear that my boyfriend's blind. And his eyes are cream-colored!"
I felt my cheeks heat up and I smiled. "Now you're the one making me blush," I said, and snuggled into Frank's chest right next to me. "I wish I could see how beautiful your eyes are," I murmured after a moment.
I felt Frank begin to stroke my hair. "Maybe someday."