Blindsided (20 page)

“Hi,” she replied. She felt a bit uneasy with him touching her that way. Was it because weeks ago she had allowed him to touch her face? Did that mean something more to him than it did to her? Because, while it made Natalie feel wanted—and she did enjoy the attention—she didn’t think of Arnab as her boyfriend now. Did he interpret things differently? Natalie rubbed her hands on her jeans nervously. These weren’t bad feelings, just kind of mixed-up feelings.

Suddenly, the waiter was there, taking drink orders and suggesting they try the new barbecue chicken pizza, which sounded good to all of them. Then, since Arnab had just completed the same walk as Natalie, there was a lot of comparing to do: the dog that barked, the hair-raising crossing at the traffic light, the crowds near the supermarket.

“And did you hit that crack in the sidewalk?” Arnab asked.

“I hit that crack every time!” Natalie exclaimed.

“Such a pain!” Arnab laughed.

“Well, here’s to an excellent walk,” Miss Audra said. “To Arnab and Natalie. I’m holding my glass for a toast.”

“Two jobs well done!” Mr. Greg chimed in.

No. It wasn’t a job well done, and Natalie knew it. She about had heart failure crossing that big intersection. Maybe Arnab deserved this pass, but she sure didn’t. She would never use it. She didn’t even want it! Nevertheless, Natalie lifted her water glass, and somehow they all managed to clink their glasses together in a toast.

“I mean it, Natalie, you can do anything you set your mind to doing,” Miss Audra went on. “It’s all about self-confidence.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Greg agreed.

“About the only thing you won’t be able to do in your life is drive a car and fly an airplane,” Miss Audra added. “Oh—and you probably can’t be a surgeon.”

Natalie grinned and scrunched up her nose. “That’s okay,” she said. “I never much liked the idea of cutting into people.”

Mr. Greg laughed. “Another toast!” he said. “Today, the Forestville Shopping Center, tomorrow Thailand—or Paris—or Venice! Actually, I would not recommend Venice because of the water.”

“You have been there?” Arnab asked.

“Yes. Twice, in fact. Once with a friend and once on my own.”

“On your own? You are serious, Mr. Greg? You went to Venice on your own, even though you are blind?” Arnab was incredulous.

“Yes!” he replied.

“Mr. Greg has traveled all over the world,” Miss Audra noted. “He just got back from Scotland.”

“But why?” Natalie asked. “Why travel if you can’t
see
anything?”

“Good question. I have been asked this many times. And I always remind people that there are many ways to measure beauty other than sight. For example, I can
smell
the ocean, I can
feel
the energy of the wind.”

“But Scotland, Mr. Greg?” Arnab asked.

“Oh, Scotland. Well! The sound of the bagpipes, for one thing. And the accent. There was the hustle and bustle in the pubs, the laughter and the clinking of glasses. And the bumpy cobblestoned streets everywhere, and the cold feel of those weathered stone walls and buildings. And oh, yes, the feel of a cold pint in my hand, and the warm wool tartan around my neck, and the peppery taste of haggis. These are not things that require sight.”

Natalie was astonished at the details he brought to life.

“You should be a writer,” Arnab said.

“There is a documentary called
Blindsight
that I want you to hear sometime,” Miss Audra said. “It’s about a mountain climber named Erik Weihenmayer who is blind. The first blind person to climb Mount Everest, in fact. But
Blindsight
is not about that adventure. It is a documentary about how he leads six blind Tibetan teenagers up a twenty-three-thousand-foot mountain.”

Just as Natalie was trying to absorb that incredible idea, the pizza arrived. It smelled wonderful. Miss Audra served them each a piece and handed out napkins. “It’s really hot,” she said. “Be careful.”

They enjoyed the pizza. When it was time to pay, Natalie was surprised to hear Arnab offer to take the bill.

“But it was going to be my treat,” Miss Audra said.

“No, no. Mine,
please
, Miss Audra. Please let me pay. It is a small thank you for what you and Mr. Greg are doing.”

“Okay,” Miss Audra agreed. “How nice. Well, let’s see. It came to twenty-three dollars and fifteen cents with all the drinks.”

“Let me get my wallet out,” Arnab said.

Natalie wondered how he was going to do this. Would he just hand over his wallet to Miss Audra and ask her to take what was needed?

“Here is a twenty,” he said. “And here—three ones. Okay, one dime. Yes, yes. And a nickel. Yes, and a five-dollar bill for the tip.”

“Excellent,” Miss Audra said. “Although that’s a pretty hefty tip.”

“It is okay,” Arnab said. “It was good service.”

“Great job,” Mr. Greg commented.

After the waiter took the money and thanked them, Natalie leaned over to Arnab. “Okay,” she said. “So you have a system. How did you know your twenty from your ones?”

“Oh! Mr. Greg taught me this,” Arnab said. “It’s not hard. A bill simply folded in half is a one-dollar bill.” He pushed a folded bill into her hands. “Folded in half a second time means it is a five-dollar bill. Folded in half yet again, into a small square, it means a ten. A twenty-dollar bill—it is folded in half lengthwise. The long way. And if you are lucky enough to have a fifty, then it’s folded in a triangle.”

“What about the change?” Natalie asked.

“Easy,” Arnab told her. “Quarters have ridges. A dime is a small quarter. Pennies and nickels have smooth edges. The penny is smaller than the nickel.”

So there
was
a system, Natalie realized.

It was time to go. Both Natalie and Arnab reached beneath their chairs for their folded canes. Natalie pulled on her jacket.

 

Back at school, Miss Audra gave Natalie a hug, but Natalie’s arms hung limp at her side. She had gotten through the evening but didn’t exactly feel encouraged by it. The truth was that she wished she was home, with her parents, where she knew her way around the house and wouldn’t have to deal with money, or put her life on the line crossing a busy intersection.

“What’s wrong?” Miss Audra asked. “You should be proud of what you accomplished today.”

“That’s just it, Miss Audra. I don’t feel proud. Because I won’t ever be able to do all these things on my own.”

“Look, no one expects you to climb a mountain in Tibet or visit Scotland next week on your own.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s the little, everyday stuff. Like Miss Karen taking that bus to work. And Arnab paying for dinner. I can’t
imagine
myself ever doing those things. It’s not
in
me to do that!”

“It
is
in you. But it takes practice. It takes self-confidence,” Miss Audra insisted. “You can do it if you want to. You know, I always tell my students at some point that when they leave here, they will need to make a huge decision. And that decision is how they are going to live their lives.

“Think about this, Natalie: Will you utilize the skills you are learning here to go out and embrace the world?” Miss Audra paused. “Or will you go home to Mom and Dad and hide out, living scared?”

I
t was difficult to keep a straight face the next day when a rubber penis was passed around in health class. Miss La Verne had warned sternly against “laughter or inappropriate comments.” But even Natalie had to slap a hand over her mouth when Serena squealed as the rubber penis ejaculated water in her hands.

Natalie had wondered if this was really necessary (it seemed so startling at first, so
bizarre
), but then she thought of Eve and some of the others who had been blind from birth. They’d never seen those pictures and diagrams in the middle-school health ed books.

The crinkly sound of a foil package being torn open next drew the girls’ attention. “This is called a condom,” Miss La Verne told them, going on to describe how, and why, it was used. Natalie thought to herself that whatever job she had in the future, it would
not
be as health instructor at a school for the blind.

“It’s like a water balloon,” Serena joked when it was her turn to examine the condom.

“Serena, do you need to leave the class?” Miss La Verne asked.

“No way!” Serena replied. “I’m sorry, Miss La Verne. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Natalie and Bree were still chuckling about it that night as they sat on their beds. Bree had just taught Natalie how to knit, and Natalie was working on a blue scarf, one slow stitch at a time, each of which had to be counted. She planned to give her mother the scarf for Christmas.

“Serena is something else, you know it?” Natalie said. “Whatever you may think of her, though, she does have a beautiful voice. I heard her sing today.”

“You did?”

“Yes. She tried to get me to join chorus with her.”

“She asked me, too!” Bree noted.

“Maybe we should do it. Why not?”

Bree’s voice grew serious. “I need to apologize to her. To all of them for what I said that first day. I can’t believe I called them a bunch of freaks.”

“Yeah, but I think they understand, Bree.”

“Still.”

“Someday, maybe, when you feel the time is right,” Natalie said. She slipped the yarn around her metal knitting needle and, with a soft scraping sound, carefully pulled the next stitch through.

Bree was quiet. Again, without being able to see a person’s face, it was hard for Natalie to know if there was still interest in carrying on the conversation. She took a chance. “Did you know there’s Braille music, too?”

“I can’t imagine!” Bree exclaimed. “I’m still having trouble with the alphabet, never mind
numbers
and
musical notes
.”

“I once thought about taking piano lessons,” Natalie said, “like maybe when I went to college, because we don’t have a piano at home.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Natalie blew the air out of her cheeks and dropped her hands, letting the knitting project rest. “I don’t know about college. I always thought I’d go. But now I’m not sure I could get around.”

“Come on, Nat, you’re so smart!”

“Yeah, well, it used to be part of my dream. In fact, when I was home, this professor we know came over to get some cheese for the holidays. He said I should think about going to Frostburg University where he teaches—it’s near my home. At the very least, he said I should visit sometime.”

“Then do it!”

“I don’t know—”

“Do it, Nat! Maybe I could go, too!”

“There’s a thought. We could go together. We could room together!”

Bree seemed really excited. “Do you think so?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, my gosh, Nat. My aunt would be so proud if I went to college!”

Oddly, Bree suddenly grew quiet. “Nat, there is something that I have really wanted to tell you, ever since, like, the first week of school.”

“What is it?”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone here?”

“Of course. I promise.”

“Not that some people don’t know already.” Bree hesitated a moment. “But have you ever heard of Space Monkey?”

“Space Monkey,” Natalie repeated. At first, she thought it was the name of a rock band, or a rapper, and she wasn’t into rap. “No. Who is it?”

But Bree didn’t get a chance to answer, because suddenly Serena popped into the open doorway. “What are you guys talking about?”

“College!” Bree said right away, making it pretty clear she didn’t want to talk about Space Monkey with Serena.

“Yeah. We were talking about going to college,” Natalie agreed.

Serena walked in. Natalie could hear her flip-flops slap across the floor, and felt the bed sink when Serena sat down at the opposite end. “I’m going to college, too,” she said. “I’m going to major in psychology. Probably at the community college in Hagerstown. If I can get in.”

Eve showed up, too, and said, “Hey, what’s up?”

“College. We’re talking about going to college,” Serena said.

“Really? Who is?” Eve asked.

“Nat and Bree and me,” Serena told her.

“Wow,” Eve responded. “That’s something I could never do.”

“Why not?” Natalie asked.

“Too scary,” Eve said.

“So what
are
you going to do when you get out of here?” Serena pressed. “Go home to Mommy?”

Natalie cringed.

“Maybe I
will
!” Eve shot back. “And so what if I do? My mom does day care at home. I could help.”

“But you don’t even like little kids!” Serena reminded her.

Eve didn’t reply. She just left, continuing down the hall, her cane tapping lightly, quickly.

Serena’s tongue was too quick for her own good sometimes, Natalie thought. When Bree got up and announced she was taking a shower, Serena rose from the end of Natalie’s bed and flip-flopped back to her own room. Natalie shook her head and picked up her knitting again, counting the stitches on one needle to see where she was, and thinking that friendships at the Center came with a whole lot of baggage.