chapter six

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

"No one is useless in this world," retorted the Secretary, "who lightens the burden of it for any one else." Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend.

 

 

I decided to go for a walk. The first time in over two weeks I had left the house- other than to attend my bi-weekly interrogations with Visk. The sun was out which surprised me, I could feel it`s heat on the top of my head as I walked. The air was still crisp and smelt of winter but signs of spring were evident; birds chirped away their happy little songs in tree tops and on telephone wires.

 

The sidewalk was layered with packed down snow, the edges melted into slippery slush sitting atop thin sheets of ice. The cold cut through you, chilled your bones and froze the blood in your fingers and toes even with the sun`s desperate efforts to heat the city.

 

            Traffic was heavy, the sidewalks bustling with people eager to get out into the sunlight from the past few months of isolation, surprised by the bitter cold that was still present.

 

            I walked straight, never paused at road crossings to listen for cars stopped at lights, their engines idling impatiently. I crossed without hesitation, if I was struck by an oncoming vehicle then so be it, there was no point in living cautiously or even by the rules if you didn’t care anymore, if you had no need for either.

 

            I walked with my guide out in front but paid no attention to it, it scanned the ground in front of me for obstacles or potential dangers to a blind person but I didn’t listen. Twice already I had failed to notice the cane dip low or snag on a raised block of sidewalk and tripped, almost falling to the ground.

 

             People sped by me in a hurry, too often bumping my shoulder or kicking my cane as I swept it in front of their feet unintentionally.

 

            I passed the familiar smells of the bakery and the gas station that both sat facing each other across the street and around the corner from my old work place. The thick gas and exhaust fumes struggling to overpower the warm, fresh smell of fresh bread and pastries.

 

I neared another road; I could hear the loud chatter of pedestrians as they waited clustered at the sidewalks end, waiting for the little white walk sign to replace the warning red hand. I squeezed through the handful of people, smacking a few who refused to get out of my way in the legs with my cane. I heard a few mumbled curses and some piteous remarks as I too approached the edge of the road.

 

            Instead of yielding for the thick traffic like the rest of the impatient cluster, I kept moving, stepping down from the curb and onto the busy street. I took in a deep breath, hearing the unwanted beating of the muscle in my chest; the sound as hideous to my ears as nails clawing a chalkboard.

 

I heard a few worried gasps behind me, a few shouts of warning from those who had noticed me. I ignored the voices and continued on, stepping confidently and wishfully over the worn asphalt. Loud horns blared all around me, tires screeched and I walked on calmly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

 

            “Get off of the road lady!” numerous people shouted this along with similar, less appropriate comments, each distorting another, turning each warning, curse or surprise into one jumble of mumbled voices, their words holding no audible meaning but I could guess at what was being said.

 

The hated thumping of my heart beat louder than all the surrounding, chaotic sounds put together and I clutched at my chest, wishing I was strong enough to rip it from my body with my own, bare hands and hurl it into the frozen street to be crushed by heavy tires. The heavy thumping sound suddenly seemed very overwhelming.

 

            I was about half way across the road, unmoving from that one spot. The loud beating filled my head and sickened my stomach, paralyzing me; I tried to hear surrounding sounds but they were only faint whispers in the background to my heavy, thumping heart.

 

My hands remained clutched over my chest, my fingers white knuckled, my skin shuddering until someone broke through my foggy zone, they grabbed my arm and roughly yanked me forward, half dragging me the rest of the way across the street. Their breath was quick; heavy as they hurried to the safe sidewalk with me struggling to free myself from their intruding grasp.

 

            “Let go!” I barked, finally tearing my arm from their hold, I could feel the flesh already beginning to bruise, the blood swarming to the surface of my skin.

 

            “Are you insane?” The voice was incredulous, a males.

            “A little bit.” I grumbled under my breath and rubbed at my tender arm.

            The man sighed, “You could have killed yourself.”

I shrugged nonchalant, “Doesn’t make a difference to me.” I continued walking forward, a second set of footsteps crunching in the snow beside me.

           

            “Did you not know the light was red? I mean aren’t you supposed to... I don’t know; find some way to read the lights?”

            I laughed as if he had just cracked a joke, “Oh, I knew it was red.” Maybe if he thought- no, if he knew I was slightly crazy he would go away. A girl could hope.

            “See, you really are Sisi.”

            Captain Crazy.

           

I stopped walking and turned to face the man. I hadn’t recognized his voice before, but now that I paid closer attention it was familiar.

           

“Jayce?” I rolled my eyes, “Oh great.” I said grudgingly.

            “The one and only.” We both continued walking again, “I’m not always going to be around to save you from your little stunts you know?”

            I groaned, “thank God for that.”

           

I could almost guess he was scrunching up his nose at me, “You look like hell.” His voice was even, very matter-of-fact.

I glared at him, how could he always be so calm and cool, as if he felt no shame to being so blatantly honest and insensitive with people.

            “A*****e.” I rolled my foggy, bluish-white eyes and swung my cane out in front of me, almost tripping Jayce intentionally.

            “Hey now, no need for violence.”

 

            What was his deal? Why did he always just seem to invite himself in like that? Wasn’t it clear I wanted to be left alone, not to be followed by some guy like a little lost puppy? But instead of a stray puppy I got an insensitive jerk.

 

“So, what type of trouble have you gotten yourself into since our last encounter?” He paused, “Your nose is healing pretty damn well; you look different without blood pouring from your face.” He laughed lightly and I touched the healing tissue, still coloured a faint purple no doubt.

“I don’t get myself into trouble, arrogant boys plunge me in it when my back is turned.” I slowed my pace a little; the ground was cracked and uneven by frozen cement trying to unthaw and I had to concentrate on my footing, every methodical step.

 

“Sure sure Sisi.” He slowed along with me, “Would you mind if I walked with you? Walking alone gets kind of boring don’t you think?” I knew he didn’t care what my answer was; he would continue anyway even if I told him to piss off, which was what I really wanted to do.

I shrugged, “I don’t think I have a choice do I?”

“That’s the spirit.”

 

There was a long pause while the two of us walked along the sidewalk quietly, the busy city sounds flooding around us and echoing through the crisp air. It was strange how the silence was not awkward, it did not feel like either of us had to scramble for something to say to fill the void of conversation. Maybe it was because I really didn’t care about impressing people anymore, about keeping them entertained and chatting. Maybe it was because I was trying to bore him into pestering someone else.

 

 “So, how come you do these things? I mean, you know they’re dangerous, so why? What’s the big deal?”

I sighed and tucked my free hand into my pocket, “What else would I do with my time? It’s a change of pace I guess, maybe I just want to feel something different, see if I can experience fear again or anxiety, or, just...something.”

 

I thought over what I had just told him, how much I just revealed without even thinking, surprising myself with my lack of defence with some stranger while subconsciously keeping my guard up -like most people breath- around people I have known forever.

 

            Maybe that was the key; he was a stranger, non-threatening, non-judgmental or scrutinizing and I wouldn’t have to face him again so it was safe if I told him. Who cares if he thinks I’m insane, who cares if he thinks I am royally screwed up beyond repair? It’s not like I would see him again.

 

            “And have you?”

           

I forgot what I had said; I let my mind wander as always. Maybe it was a kind of instant self defence mechanism; to automatically zone out of conversations, to block out voices and wander in my head. Oh, there I go again.

 

“Have I what?”

He must have thought I was dazed or something because he laughed, “you know, ‘felt anything different’, fear and such.”

My previous words came back to me as I caught up with the conversation, “Oh, right. No, I’m not afraid of death anymore so there is really nothing I can fear.” I answered honestly, finally deciding no harm could come of it.

 

“But there is something you fear then, if not death.” He said his new found information smugly, but it didn’t irritate me, it was more of a playful, joking around smugness.

“And what is that Mr. Insight?” I sneered.

“Life.” He said the word matter-of-factly and I had to stop walking with the realization he was right.

 

Life was exactly what I feared, living this repetitive, meaningless life each day terrified me and I had never even thought about it until this stranger spoke the words. How could he know? How could he be so dead on when I hadn’t even known it myself? I embraced death, tempted it each chance I could because I was afraid to live. Afraid of the pain, the dullness, the aching.

 

“I’m right aren’t I?”

I walked forward slowly, not saying a word to confirm his assumption but I knew my lack of response was answer enough.

 

“Why are you so afraid of life? I mean if you don’t mind me asking.”

I didn’t mind. I shrugged, “Life has no more surprises for me. No more changes or miracles or happy memories. There is nothing more for me; it’s like being a chef with no taste buds. Life has no more flavour left, it’s bland. What`s the point of cooking if you can’t taste the food.”

 

            Jayce was silent, there was nothing but the sound of our crunching feet and others that passed by us on the sidewalk for a long time as he considered my words, and I wondered if I had scared him off, if he was debating turning and running now while he had the chance. Oh well, another person who I repelled.

 

            “Where are you walking to?” He asked finally and out of the blue.

            I shrugged, “I don’t plan that far ahead.”

            He laughed; I guess he didn’t mind my craziness after all, “Do you plan anything?”

I shook my head and he spoke again, “Well, seeing as we both don’t really have a destination, do you want to go for coffee?”

 

            My heart pounded hard in my chest and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, “Coffee?”

            Jayce laughed again, “Yeah, coffee. It’s made from this strange brown bean that they grind up and brew with hot water.” Sarcasm wasn’t something I had heard in a long time- other than coming from my own lips that is, people were usually always so gentle with me; as if I was a fragile china doll.  I couldn’t help but blush with my stupid comment.

 

            “Um, yeah, coffee...” I allowed my voice to trail off as I contemplated going along.

 

            If I agreed then what did that mean? If I thought I had made a friend- allowed myself to meet a friend- then was deserted by him when he found out how truly messed up I was, would I be in worse shape than I am now? If that was even really possible.

 

But what if I chose not to go for coffee and I missed out on an opportunity to heal, to potentially laugh or feel good for once in my life? I groaned; I was turning something so small into some big, life changing event.

 

            “So... is that a not this time?” He took my silence and indecision as a no.

            I bit my lip unsure about the words I was about to speak. “Yes, I mean no, I guess we could go for coffee.”

            “Is it that tough of a decision for you?” He teased, laughing lightly.

            I shrugged, “A little bit, yeah actually.” He thought I was kidding and I let him keep that assumption.

 

            I had no idea where we were in relation to the coffee shop; I didn’t even know which one we were heading for. Had we continued to walk in a straight line? Had we crossed any streets or turned any corners? I hadn’t been paying attention at all; just let my feet wander beside Jayce’s.

 

            “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little surprised you’re talking to me.”

            I tried to act as if the comment hadn’t caught me off guard, although I really wasn’t sure how convincing I was. “Why is that?”

            He thought a moment before speaking, “Well, first of all, you didn’t seem too open to the idea of making friends last time we met and second, I keep ruining your little stunts for you; breaking your nose, saving you from being flattened by cars...” He let his voice trail off; he was teasing again, his tone light and playful.

           

I shrugged and switched my cane into my other hand, letting the tiny ball at the end roll over the bumps and dips ahead of me. I had nothing to say and so Jayce filled the silence himself, “Do you want to stop at Razzies? Were almost in front of it now.”

 

Razzies was an independently owned coffee shop; it sold health drinks, energy boosting smoothies, slush drinks with shots of hard to pronounce, organic body cleansers, then they also sold the regular products; coffee, specialty tea, cappuccinos, home baked cookies and muffins and sandwiches. I used to go to Razzies a lot before I lost my eyesight.

 

“Uh, yeah sure.”

“Great.” He paused, “Ah, do you need me to-help? Or...” He was dancing around my disability, being more sensitive than he had before and I wasn’t sure if I preferred that to his usually stinging honesty.

I snorted. “I never need help.” I followed his footsteps, his light breath and the rustling of his coat to the front and he stepped inside leaving me with the door.

 

He turned around when I came in, “I figured you would refuse to come in if I held the door for you.” He thought my stubbornness was funny, unlike many others who pestered for me to act differently. He played off my need for independence, turning it into a playful joke, and yet he was probably right.

 

We claimed a corner table near the window. I could feel the sun’s soothing heat caressing my chilled face through the glass and the hot tea I cupped in my hands sent spirals of lemon scent up my nostrils.

 

It was busy; the soft chatter of tables around us collected together making one jumble of loud mumbles and occasional laughter. The sound of mugs and plates clanging on the hard, stone table tops rang through the air along with the ringing of cash registers.

 

It had been a long time since I had been anywhere so public, so crowded and exposed other than my random walks through the city.

 

“Have you ever been here?” Jayce asked sipping from his cup of hot coffee.

I nodded, leaning forward in my chair so I was hunched over my mug, “Lot’s.”

The steam made me crave a bath, yearn for the relaxation of soaking in a bubble filled tub; soft, fragrant bath soaps mingling in the air so sweet and refreshing.

 

“So, what’s your actual name?”

I took the cup to my lips but the heat that came off of the liquid cautioned me that it was still too hot, “Quinn.”

 

“Hmm... I like that name, I still think Sisi is more fitting though.” I could hear him twisting his mug around in circles on the stone, “You don’t talk much do you?”

I shook my head, “I just don’t have anything worth saying I guess.”

Jayce snorted, “What? I can’t even believe you just said that. Every single word anyone speaks is important in some way.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Oh? How so?”

 

He took in a breath, almost yawning, “Well, think about it. You say things for a reason. Whether it’s directed to someone or not, it always effects or means something to someone, or leads to something.” He paused and took another sip, “Good or bad.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a bit, “What if no one hears what is spoken? Then no one can be affected by it.”

He laughed as if what I said was ridiculous, “Then it means something to the person who said it obviously.”

 

I considered his theory, “Alright, I change my answer then, I don’t talk much because when I do, it only affects people in negative ways.”

Jayce set his mug down and spoke while still swallowing his mouth full of coffee, “You’re not affecting me in a negative way.”

I frowned, “Not that you know of; in the long run it will affect you badly, trust me I’m a curse.”

 

He laughed and took a bite of the peanut butter cookie he had ordered; the crisp outer layer that encased the moist center crunched between his teeth. He offered his other one to me but I declined; the thought of food made me sick.

 

There was something about his presence, the way he carried himself that knotted my stomach, it wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling; almost like the nauseous sensation you get when you’re nervous, but in a lighter, less intruding and less unwelcome way. I hadn’t decided if this was a feeling I was really open to accepting at the moment.

 

 

“So, have you lived here long?”

I swallowed my first sip of tea, the liquid scalding as it went down, “All my life. How about you, are you a fellow Londonion too?”

“Nope. Just moved up here from Calgary a year or so ago. Plan on doing some travelling eventually.”

I twirled my guide cane around on my lap, “I used to want to do that. Go see Ireland, Australia, Greece, Germany. Everywhere.”

 

“Well why don’t you then?” I couldn’t believe he even asked that, was he joking? Trying to be funny?

“Well, there wouldn’t be much point now would there?” My voice was sharp, warning.

Jayce took notice of my mood change but pressed the topic nonetheless, “Well, I mean even just being there would be worth it wouldn’t it? Learning different cultures, eating traditional dishes, meeting new people, learning the language; you don’t need to see for any of that.”

 

“But I wouldn’t be able to see. I wouldn’t be able to look at the old structures, the unique look of each country; or cities and towns within them. I wouldn’t be able to go to museums, cultural events and shows; nothing would be the same as if I went with sight.”

 

“Of course it wouldn’t be the same, but not necessarily in a bad way. You could keep the images that you have in your head, you can’t be disappointed. You can’t really live through life thinking of the things you can’t do and ignoring the things you can. What would be the benefits of that?”

 

“I would rather see the world and be disappointed then go only to wonder.”

“So instead, you’re not going to experience it at all.”

 

I hadn’t spoken to someone like this since I lost my sight over two years ago, hadn’t debated since my environmentalist and human rights time. It was refreshing to be challenged, to have a clash of opinions, to have someone fight back against me and to be persuaded to find logic in both sides of the discussion.

 

I smiled with the old feelings which I always coward from; was afraid to feel because of the pain of knowing things were now different.

“What are you smiling at?” He asked lightly, the thick debate now over with.

“Oh, I just miss this is all.”

“Miss what? Arguing with strangers?” He loved to tease, using antics as his main tool.

“Having an actual discussion. One that means something.”

 

“See, what did I tell you. Everything said means something to someone.” He had to have been grinning, pleased at having his point validated.

“I don’t think you should be too happy about being right.”

“And why is that?”

I shrugged, “Because that means I was also right.”

He laughed, “Oh, I’m not afraid of your little ‘curse.’ Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

We sat in the coffee shop for a while, each sipping away at our third cups of steaming liquid, chatting and stumbling on more debatable topics of discussion.

 

It was nice talking to someone who wasn’t lecturing, trying to ‘be concerned’ or prying. Just talking to talk, to pass time, asking questions not to find out what’s going on in my head but with genuine, innocent curiosity and so I answered them with ease and without fear of exposure.

 

“You sure you don’t want something to eat? You look like you could use it.”

I shook my head and winced at the thought of food, “No, I’m just sick is all.”

“Sick?” He said unbelieving, “You look like you’re dead, they have great sandwiches here you know.”

My stomach twisted, flipping with nausea as the putrid image of sliced meats loaded with mustard filled my head. “No, really, I can’t keep anything down. Stomach flu or something.” If it wasn’t for the genuine expression of queasiness I knew Jayce could see in my face, I’m sure he wouldn’t have believed the lie.

 

“Should you be out with the stomach flu? I mean shouldn’t you be resting or something?”

I scrambled for words, resorting to my usual defensive manner as I always did, “What are you my mother?” My words had a slight hiss to them but Jayce only laughed.

“Alright, alright. Fair enough Sisi.”

I groaned, “Ugh, please call me Quinn.”

“As you wish.”

 

 

I became aware of how the sounds around us had become softer, less monopolizing and the voices of workers grew louder, laughing amongst each other as they changed garbage’s and cleaned the machines.

 

Jayce seemed to notice to. “Guess we better go huh? Your parents are probably wondering where you went.”

I shook my head and pushed my half full cup of tea aside, “My mom doesn’t bother asking anymore, sure she wonders but that doesn’t do her much good.”

“You’re lucky, when I lived with my folks last year I had to let them know everywhere I was going. Didn’t have to tell them what time I would be back, just location. What about your dad? Doesn’t he worry?”

I yawned and stretched out my arms, “No, my mom never married; my dad was her highschool sweetheart, never met him.”

“Oh. I guess that’s better than having him around for a few years then taking off.”

I nodded in agreement and rose to my feet, “but you’re right, I should head home.”

 

Jayce walked with me to the sidewalk and pointed me in the right direction, “Do you have a cell phone?”

I laughed, “No. The phones altered for the blind are way too expensive and regular ones have no use to me. I don’t really talk to too many people anymore.”

I heard him rummage through his pockets and the clicking of a pen, “Here, I’ll give you my number, that way you can give me a call whenever you like, from whatever phone.” He laughed and handed me a napkin after a short minute.

“I will, thanks.” I shoved the napkin into my pocket.

“Look forward to hearing from you Sisi.”

I scrunched up my nose, “A*****e.” I swore as I turned my back to him and walked down the road away from his laughter.

Reviews

[-Jaime-]

You started a bit wordy, but the flow picked up as you moved on. Same as last, minor editing and such; aside from that, the story keeps picking up. I enjoy the dialogue more and more as you write. It's odd, it's like you get more comfortable with the characters themselves as you go. Good job, now I want some tea.

[Luna Northstar]

I love Quinn's and Jaycee's relationship. He's the type of person she needs. I love this book. I know I say that every chapter, but it's true :)