I hurt for her. I hurt for me. I hurt for the lost
time and opportunities.
I’ll get to see her today. Twelve years. How had she
managed to stay out of sight that long? But it gave me a warped
sense of hope; I mean, in order to avoid me, she had to be aware of
me, right?
Crazy-ass fate kept me from catching up with her two
days ago when we were actually in the same house together, but I
had been asleep in the other room. So fucking close, and yet it may
as well have been a continent again. I had been in that half-awake
state, where I had been dreaming of what I would say and do the
first time I saw her again. I thought I caught snatches of her
voice, just speaking in a low conversational cadence. Soothing.
I remember the sound of a cell phone chirping. Then,
Teresa saying something to Janey’s cat about my sister expecting
company that night and Cat was not going to be getting any sleep
with the racket the two would be making. TMI, it’s my fucking
sister, for cripes sake; I was not interested in who she was
screwing, let alone at what decibel levels. I had my legs over the
side of the bed and I almost raced to the other room before I
realized I was stark naked. Not a best first impression after so
many years. Then again… The front door closed with a loud thud
before I realized, duh, blind girl, she wouldn’t have known I was
only wearing manly body hair and sporting a stiff dick. Hell, who
am I kidding? I would have grabbed her up in a hug and kiss that
would have left her in no doubt.
With the heads up my sister was expecting company
that night, I gathered up my shit and repacked my suitcase. Janey
would have been happy to let me have the spare room, but I got a
room at the Doubletree Hotel instead. I hadn’t slept in two days,
and needed rest. I refused to lay in the spare room listening to my
sister and some bozo having wild monkey sex. I woke up late the
next afternoon and let her know I was in town with my friend and
business partner, David. Janey had long ago caught on to Teresa’s
avoidance of me, so she planned to maneuver Teresa in to a family
breakfast the next morning.
Today, I’ll get to finally see her. I just want to
wrap my arms around her and breathe in the fragrance of her hair.
Would it still smell like oranges? Would she even give me a chance
to make things right? I play a loop of conversations in my brain,
trying out different scenarios for this first meeting. Damn, what
an idiot I had been. Will she forgive me? All I can ask myself is,
with the loss of her sight, will she ever really ‘see’ into my
heart? I have to live with the idea that her last visual image of
me, before she was blinded, was my body bent over another woman. I
can never replace that picture in her head.
We are parked in front of Teresa’s house, waiting for
Janey’s boyfriend to bring her outside. Janey’s driving us all to
breakfast, and her boyfriend, Ken (Yeah, his real name. I caught
the Ken and Barbie reference too), is escorting her to the vehicle.
Oh. My. God. There she is. She is casually dressed in blue jeans
and a black t-shirt with an ornamental fish splashed across the
front. Her height towers over the man at her side. The tall, gawky
teenager has blossomed into an elegant, poised woman. She walks
with a confident, easy grace, as she grips Ken’s arm while he
guides her forward.
My breath hitches in my chest and it feels like a
weight has just descended like a stone, preventing me exhaling. My
breath leaves me in a rush, but the heaviness is still there. Fear?
Anxiety? Oh God, My mind goes blank, and I lose the speech I have
mentally prepared. I’ve completely forgotten what I want to say, as
I drink in the sight of her moving towards the car. Toward me.
And there it is, her smile. Her head thrown back with
laughter dancing in her eyes. I think to myself, I’ve loved her
forever. Now, I just need to find a way to get her to finally see
me. To see what I have seen all along - the possibility of
Us
. I open my door and step out of the car to greet her.
Color Blind
By
T. Hammond
Chapter One
“
Banzai!
” I heard the scratch of dog claws
scramble across the deck and straight off the edge.
“What the…?”
Ken’s laughter started indoors and got louder as he
rolled the screen door open so he could step outside to stand by me
on the back deck. “Teresa, your dog is totally wicked. He must have
launched himself eight feet out to catch that.”
“Catch what?” I needed a clue here. Maybe I could ask
for a vowel? “All I heard was him yelling ‘Banzai’ as he dashed
past me.”
“Damn it! Red!” David’s voice shouted from the
kitchen area as he stormed through the house and joined us outside.
“Where did he go?”
Oh, oh, someone’s in trouble. In my mind I heard what
sounded like
“Mwah ha ha.”
A very satisfied, doggy version
of maniacal laughter.
“I hear evil chuckles emanating from under the deck,”
I tattled.
“Red!” David yelled again, stomping down the six
steps leading to the back lawn. “You promised you’d leave them
alone.”
“What?” I asked. Sometimes being blind is so
frustrating. “What did he promise to leave alone? What’s
happening?”
“Red just took out one of the mini-drones,” Ken
explained. “He leapt right off the deck and caught one in mid-air.
It was totally awesome!”
“Not so awesome, Ken,” I replied with the Voice of
Reason. “Do you have any idea how much those things cost?”
A voice interrupted from under the deck:
“According to the Rules of Engagement, it was flying over the
DMZ. Per our contract, I’m allowed to take out anything in the red
zone.”
“What contract? You’re a one-year old, you’re too
young to contract with anyone.” I sighed, shaking my head, “Geez,
what am I saying? You’re a dog, who would be crazy enough to make a
contract with you in the first place? And, what are you talking
about? Rules of Engagement and Demilitarized Zones?”
Ken figured out the conversation based on my replies
to the dog. “David and Bas are testing the mini-drone
maneuverability portion of the program they’re developing,” Ken
explained. “Red promised to stop snatching them out of the air as
long as David kept them away from the deck area, henceforth to be
known as the demilitarized zone.”
Henceforth, huh? I think that’s the first time I’ve
heard a real person say that word in a conversation. I kept my
snide thoughts to myself.
“Geez Red,” I heard David’s muffled grumble from
under the deck below my feet. “How many of these do you have down
here?” There was a short pause. “Eight? You caught eight
drones?”
This time I joined Ken in a peal of laughter. “What
do you expect David? He’s a dog, he’s going to chase them,” I
reasoned. “Isn’t that why you started having them made of hard
rubber, instead of metal?” Personally, I thought he was fortunate
Red only collected drones and didn’t feel an urge to bury them
too.
“
I caught most of them before we set up the Rules
of Engagement,”
Red rebutted.
“The other two were within
jumping distance of the deck, so I’m allowed to catch
them.”
I repeated Red’s words for David’s benefit.
“We were flying a pattern ten feet away from the deck
rail,” David protested.
“Ah, I underestimated his jump by two feet,” Ken
confided in me, sounding like a proud parent. In a louder voice,
“That was a ten foot leap Red. Most excellent!”
I jabbed a playful elbow in Ken’s side. “Stop
encouraging him. What if he accidentally swallows one?”
Secretly, I agreed with Ken. The drones David used to
refine his software were vaguely shaped like helicopters for
maneuverability. Not much larger than golf balls with two inch
tails, they measured three, to three and a half inches, in total
length. I could hear them constantly buzzing around our property as
the guys ran their simulations. While we had established speed
limits around the house, some of the drones were capable of moving
very fast, depending on the program being tested. It was impressive
that Red, from a running leap, could snatch one out of the air.
David’s booted feet were heavy as he clomped up the
steps. He stopped in front of me. “Here, hold on to these,” he
requested. I heard a clacking sound as he, presumably, dropped the
retrieved hardware in Ken’s hands. Then he speared fingers through
my hair tilting my face up for a warm kiss. “Good morning,
Beautiful.”
“Hey, Gorgeous,” I replied, melting into the sexiest
mouth in the Inland Northwest, sliding my free arm behind his neck
to deepen the contact; I mustn’t spill the coffee held in my other
hand. David tasted faintly of Columbian roast and… was that a
donut? No one offered
me
a donut this morning.
“Oh, puh-leeze. Get a room for goodness sakes,” Ken
complained, sounding mock-disgusted. “Here, let me grab your mug
before you spill this last swallow down David’s back. I’m making a
new pot so I’ll refresh your coffee when it’s ready. I need to go
inside anyway, to check on the chicken I’m marinating for lunch.”
The mug was pried from my surprisingly firm grip (I am serious
about my java), leaving me free to slide the second arm completely
around David’s wide back as Ken wandered back to what he claimed as
his kitchen.
“Mmm, what were you two doing down in the man cave?
Working out? Burning off donut calories perhaps?” I asked, swiping
my tongue across his lips to catch any residual sugar.
By man cave, I was referring to the twelve-hundred
square foot, windowless basement that David commandeered when he
accepted my invitation to cohabitate. In the five weeks since he
moved in, he and Bas have transformed it into a computer room,
slash, fitness room, slash, security room, slash, weapons stash,
and “I don’t want to know what else is down there” room. He and
Sebastian Declan have been using the Cave to design and test
uber-hush-hush surveillance software; security prototypes and
programs that David developed for his clients (yeah, the kind that
wear uniforms and salute each other). It was all very top secret,
which is why the room, with its own hidden entrance (in the pantry
of all places), was perfect for their clandestine projects. We kept
a smaller, fully equipped computer room upstairs to act as a decoy
in case anyone made it through the security system and into the
house, but there was nothing of importance in there.
There are no windows in the basement, making the room
a firetrap, so the guys decided to tunnel an escape route that
opens up inside a tool shed about ten feet from the back door.
Personally? I think it was just secret, boyhood wish fulfillment. I
mean, secret tunnel? Really? I’m sure there should have been
permits for most, if not all, of the property renovations, but what
harm is there in a few circumvented laws? I enjoyed the irony of
having six detectives, and officers we worked with regularly at the
police department, digging the tunnel on their days off. It says a
lot about the trust built up between us all, that Bas and David
could ask for their help. As for the permits? I’m blind, how am I
supposed to know what’s really going on down there? Snicker.
“We were lifting weights when the program went crazy.
One of the drones suddenly dropped off the grid.” David bent
forward and caressed his mouth over my throat. “Damn woman, you
smell good. Lavender and…” he sniffed lightly, “vanilla?”
“Yep. I smell even better laid out on those crisp
cotton sheets in our bedroom,” I burrowed my face against the
dampness of his neck, “they smell like your cologne. I think our
scents smell better when they are blended together, don’t you?”
The approaching heavy tread of hiking boots preceded
Bas, who called out, “Did you find it? It looks like we have a
drone missing from the house security program too. The readout
shows we lost it last night in almost the same place as the second
drone.” He joined us outside.
I released David to give Bas a one-armed, good
morning hug. “Hey, Handsome. I’m betting you’re working off a donut
too. I’m feeling left out.”
“
Don’t worry,”
Red called out from his hiding
spot,
“we saved a chocolate one for you.”
“Are you guys giving donuts to the dog?” I’m pretty
sure I sounded suspicious as well as grumpy. Amazingly, no one
spoke up to deny my accusation; I took that as guilty silence. I
made a mental note to bring up the subject of the dog’s diet again
later, when donuts weren’t at stake. “I can’t believe the dog got a
donut before anyone offered one to me,” I pouted. Yeah, I know,
really mature. But they all knew I loved donuts.
Ken followed Bas out from the house and rattled his
handful of hijacked hardware. “Super Dog took out the drone, plus
most of the metal ones you were missing from last week.” I heard a
clatter that sounded like Ken spilling the drones on the picnic
table beside us.
“Don’t you guys use GPS or something? Can’t you just
find them when they go missing?” I asked.
“Whatever is disabling them seems to turn the drones
off, so there’s no signal. Kinda like when you turn off your cell
phone,” Bas answered. “These are the cheaper, lightweight versions
we use for speed and maneuverability tests; they are pretty low
tech compared to the military-grade stuff we haven’t unpacked from
the egg crates yet.”