Blind Sight (24 page)

The girl pushes her bangs out of her eyes, which Luke can now see are blue, and pulls him down slightly by the elbow in order to say softly and solemnly into his ear, “It didn’t hurt.” One of her earrings swings against Luke’s jaw. Luke smells a spice he cannot identify. The girl is wearing a strapless dress. She releases Luke’s elbow and takes a step back as the crowd coagulates into a new formation.

“So can you get me something?” the girl shouts.

“Yes!” Luke yells. “What would you like?”

“God, anything,” she yells back. “Anything and crab cakes.”

“Crab cakes?” Luke hollers.

The girl tugs Luke’s elbow again and he willingly leans his head down.

“They always have crab cakes,” the girl says into his ear, significantly, as if the ubiquity of crab cakes is part of some larger conspiracy. Luke nods.

“I’m sitting underneath the picture of dancing leprechauns,” the girl calls over her shoulder, jimmying her way into the crowd.

The buffet does indeed have crab cakes. Luke fills up two plates with assorted food, taking some care to provide variety and visual interest. He executes a lap of the outer rim of the restaurant, where most of the tables are located. The artwork on the walls is mostly single-colored canvases with different colored dots or circles. Luke stops a lab-coat-wearing server and asks if the server knows where a picture of dancing leprechauns can be found. The server is Spanish speaking and as Luke does not know the Spanish for “leprechaun,” he substitutes “
pequeno hombres verde,
” a translation that neither Luke nor the server finds to be adequate. Luke is about to give up when he sees the girl sitting at a table with several older people under a white canvas dotted with off-white circles. The girl sees Luke and holds up one hand in a sort of half wave. A woman with a horn of very shiny blond hair molded on top of her head says something to the girl, who shrugs and stands up, walking toward Luke with her hand still held to her shoulder, palm outwards. Luke sees this: the position of the hand in the traditional mudra of protection and peace, the elaborate earrings, the grave expression of the girl, and wonders if he is bringing crab cakes to a bodhisattva.

“Let’s sit somewhere else,” the girl says. “That woman is crazy.”

“How about under the picture of the dancing leprechauns?” Luke suggests, switching gears. He is glad he has this opening line semiprepared. “Where is that exactly?”

“That’s it.” The girl points to the off-white circles. “Don’t you see them?” She grabs two blue drinks off a passing tray. “Or is it just me?” The girl blinks at Luke.

“Oh,” Luke nods. “I get it now. I didn’t see that they were dancing at first. I thought they were dueling.”

The girl smiles slightly, less with her mouth than with the curve of her blinking eyelashes. “Really?” she deadpans. “Weird.”

Luke follows the girl over to a small table by a window. Now that they are in a less crowded area, Luke is able to take in more of her appearance. The girl is wearing a short dress with purple cowboy boots. Luke thinks that any heterosexual teenage boy will follow a girl with bare legs and purple cowboy boots. Luke thinks that this might actually be a fundamental law, like gravity, or the heliocentric model of the galaxy.

Luke and the girl sit down, and Luke hands the girl her plate, which she inspects somberly.

“Did I get the right things?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” she says. “You did well.”

Luke feels his phone vibrate inside his suit pocket. He takes it out and reads a text from Mark.

Where you?

Eating w girl
, Luke types back.

“Sorry,” Luke says to the girl.

“You are very funny,” she says, neutrally. “So, who are you?”

“Um … I’m Luke,” Luke says.

“Okay,” the girl says. “I’m fine with that if you are.” She stares at Luke challengingly for a moment, and then smiles a little.

“I’m Leila,” she says.

Luke feels a slight physical jolt at this.

“That’s … funny,” Luke says. “That was my original name.”

Leila nods. “So you’re transgender,” she says, not asking, and spearing a crab cake.

“What? No. No, everyone thought I was going to be a girl so they had a girl’s name ready. But I’m a boy. A guy.” Luke tries to regain his equilibrium by eating a fried risotto ball.

“Why’d they think you were going to be a girl?” Leila asks. “Did your penis not show up on the sonogram?”

Luke swallows fried risotto. This is the first time a girl has directly stated a speculation on the size of his penis, even in the prenatal state.

“My mom didn’t have a sonogram,” Luke says. “That’s how certain she was. For twelve generations there have only been girls in my family.”

Luke is surprised to hear himself saying this.

“So … oops?” Leila asks.

“Yeah,” says Luke. “Oops.”

Leila and Luke smile at each other.

“Are you going to drink that?” Leila moves the blue drink closer to Luke’s plate.

“What is it?”

“The Chimera,” Leila tells him. “Vodka and something else. Who knows? It tastes like facial cleanser. You are now going to ask me how I know that, do I drink facial cleanser. I do not.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Luke says.

Leila dips two fingers in her drink, reaches across the table, and slides her fingers lightly down one side of Luke’s face, then up the other.

“There,” she says. “You’re all clean now.”

This action causes a slight stirring in Luke’s pants. He is glad that they are sitting down and that he is wearing a suit jacket.

“Thank you,” Luke says.

Luke and Leila begin talking. Luke learns that the woman with the blond hair horn whom Leila described as “crazy” is Leila’s mother, and Leila’s mother is one of the producers of
Chimera
. Leila has two sisters as well. They are twins, and only three years old.

“That’s unusual,” Luke comments. “Twins.”

“Are you kidding?” Leila laughs. “Every woman my mom’s age has twins. That’s what you get when you go all in vitro. I don’t know if she even tried to do it naturally, I think she wanted to stay hip and be a mother of twin babies like all the other mommies. She can’t take
me
to Mommy and Me class. The next generation? After us? It will be all twins.”

Leila tells Luke that her father lives in New York.

“I wanted to live with him. Because he’s not psychotic and New
York is way better than here, but my mom had custody. Not because she wanted me. She just didn’t want him to have me. But it actually didn’t hurt him at all because he’d rather just have me visit once a year and not have to worry about me. Not that my mom worries about me. Her assistant handles my schedule. Anyway, she could have made him keep me and that would have been worse for him but then she couldn’t give all those interviews about how she balances being a high-powered woman in the industry with being a loving and caring mother. Of course, she doesn’t need me for that now because she’s got the twins. I would get emancipated but it’s too much bother and I’ll be eighteen in eight months anyway.”

Leila says all of this, half laughing as she talks, while delicately dissecting her crab cakes. Luke, practiced and deft at predicting the intended trajectories of verbal arrows, thinks it sounds as if Leila is describing the plot of a movie she knows is silly and totally unrealistic, but cannot help enjoying anyway. On the other hand, when Leila stretches out her legs in front of her, taps the pointy toes of her purple boots together, frowns, and says, “I don’t like carpeting,” Luke feels as if an intimate moment has passed between them.

Leila asks Luke where he lives, which leads to Luke explaining that he is just visiting his father in Los Angeles.

“How often do you come?” Leila asks.

“This is my first time,” Luke says.

“Your dad just move here?”

“No,” Luke says. “It’s just the first time I’ve come.” Luke wonders if this explanation is enough, but Leila has finished her crab cakes and is still looking at Luke expectantly.

“My dad is an actor,” Luke adds, hoping this will help.

“Oh, gotcha,” says Leila. “Who’s your dad?”

“Mark Franco.”

“Oh yeah,” Leila nods.

Luke waits.

“I didn’t really think you were transgender,” Leila says. “That was a little joke of mine.”

“Like the dancing leprechauns?” Luke asks.

“No,” says Leila. “Those were real.”

Luke and Leila talk some more. Luke is intrigued by Leila’s way of saying personal or emotional things without emphasis, and giving simple declarative remarks an italicized significance. It is almost, Luke thinks, as if she were speaking in code, although he is not sure whether it is the emotional statements or the non sequiturs he should be paying attention to. Not knowing what kind of reaction Leila needs from him makes Luke feel reckless.

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” Luke asks. “Soon, I mean. I’m not here for much longer.”

“People usually do things in groups here,” Leila tells him.

Luke thinks of possible group members: his father? Kati? Carmen? Mark’s trainer Kyle? Aimee? Diamond?

“I don’t have a group here,” Luke says.

“Why do you want to hang out with me?” Leila asks.

Luke is prevented from replying to this by the appearance at their table of Mark, with Kati in tow. Luke makes introductions.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m taking off now,” Mark says to Luke. “See ya later at home?”

Luke nods, although he has no idea how he will get home, if not with his father, but then the blond woman, Leila’s mother, joins their group, and further introductions are made.

“Congratulations,” Leila’s mother, whose name is Karen, says to Mark. “On the Emmy nod. I love the show.”

While Mark tells Karen that
Chimera
was fantastic, and also made him think, Leila leans across the table and says quietly to Luke, “Put your phone by your knee.”

Luke takes his phone out of his pocket and holds it by his knee. He feels Leila’s fingers against his thigh for a moment before she takes the phone. Luke tries to keep his facial expression neutral. In a moment, he feels a knocking against his knee. He would like to touch Leila’s thigh, or anything belonging to Leila, but gets only the fleetest impression of her thumb before his phone is back in his hand. Leila
stands up and moves next to Karen, so Luke stands too. Mark gives him a quick glance.

“Well, I’ve got two little girls at home,” Karen is saying to Mark. “So playtime is over for Mommy.”

Mark nods and chuckles as if in sympathy. There are renewed congratulations exchanged on all sides. Leila holds up her hand in the bodhisattva salute, smiles, turns, and walks away. Kati makes some gesture behind Mark’s back and a photographer comes forward. Mark and Karen stop talking and smile at the camera. Luke looks at his phone and sees that Leila has entered her name and phone number in his contact list.

“You disappeared on me,” Mark says, when they are back in the limousine.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says. “I didn’t think you needed me. You ran into that friend of yours.”

“A friend?” Mark questions. “Yeah, I guess he’s a friend.”

“Karen Michaels’s daughter,” Kati says. “Nice work, Luke.”

Mark frowns.

“Is that a bad thing?” Luke asks Mark.

“God, no,” Mark says. “I love Karen Michaels. This is the third time I’ve met her. She might actually remember she’s met me next time. You gonna go out with her? The daughter?”

“If that’s okay.”

“You hear how Karen Michaels called it an Emmy nod?” Mark asks Kati. “Like they had to give me a nomination but of course I won’t win.”

“I’ll rent you a car,” Kati says, to Luke. “Something flashy? Or a hybrid?”

“I’ll rent him a car,” Mark says. “I’ll do that.”

“Of course,” says Kati smoothly. “That’s what I meant.”

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Luke asks his father, who shrugs.

“God, can you believe Derek Portnoy is now getting all this great
work?” Mark demands of Kati. “Derek fucking Portnoy. I used to cater with that guy, and now he’s got three features coming out this year.”

“Derek Portnoy isn’t nominated for an Emmy,” Kati says calmly.

“You mean Derek Portnoy doesn’t have an Emmy
nod
.”

Luke leans back in his seat, slightly relieved that his father is grumpy because of professional jealousies, and not with Luke for abandoning him at the party. Luke looks out the window of the car, but it is dark and all he can see is the blue-black outline of his face in the glass. Luke blinks in time with his reflection. He turns back to his father and to cheer him up begins to tell Mark how Leila described her mother as a crazy woman.

T
alk about a special trip you have gone on. What happened during the trip? Who was with you? Were there surprises along the way? Did you face any challenges? In what ways were you different at the end of your journey?

I went on a Sacred Journey trip right before my thirteenth birthday, in the Adirondacks. Sara took me. She actually got me out of a week of school to do it. She had done special things with both of my sisters when they turned thirteen, but not Sacred Journey. Aurora had gone with Sara to a spiritual retreat house in Long Island, and done meditation and a whale watch. Pearl got a couple of days in Martha’s Vineyard, on some special island where she got to herd sheep and make her own sweat lodge. In most cultures, and religions, there is some kind of “coming of age” ritual or ceremony. That was the idea behind these trips. “Attention must be paid,” was a thing Sara said.

Sacred Journey is sort of like those Outward Bound programs,
but with more of an emphasis on spirituality. You still hike, and learn survival skills, and do group trust exercises, but every day on your Sacred Journey adventure you focus on a different chakra, and there is a lot of chanting and meditation and stuff like that.

The opportunity came up because Sara became friends with this guy Jeff who was a Sacred Journey guide. He was also a numerologist, which is how Sara knew him. She knows a lot of people like Jeff.

Sara told me that she really wanted to spend meaningful time with me. As it turned out, though, a Sacred Journey is mostly an internal thing, and at best you have adjacent meaningful time together. Also, there were twelve other people in our group, and of course Sara had to get to know all of them on a meaningful level too. People talk to Sara. That’s one of her things. If Sara goes to the post office and has to stand in line, by the time she gets to the window she knows all about the marital troubles of the person in front of her and the difficult childhood of the person behind. I know this because I have frequently been the person standing next to Sara in the post office line, listening to all this too.