Love Is Blind (14 page)

That night I slept with the penny under
neath my pillow.  It’s what Chris told me he’d done and doing it myself made me feel connected with him, like we still shared something.  I couldn’t get past the way he cherished that rusted penny so dearly simply because it was important to me. 

It wasn’t the sort of thing a selfish, smooth-talking asshole could fake.

I’d like to say I dreamed romantic, lusty dreams of Chris that night, but I didn’t.  Instead, I dreamed about dancing toasters.  It’s best if you don’t try to analyze it.  Sometimes my subconscious can be a very peculiar thing.

The next morning I was supposed to have my consultation with the plastic surgeon.  I rolled out of bed a little later than I’d intended and ran a brush through my hair.  I didn’t spend much time on my appearance.  The doctor, I reasoned, had seen it all
before.  Besides, I was pretty sure he was going to draw all over my face with one of those black markers like you see on TV.  How’s that for attractive?

In a rush, I hurried out the front door…and nearly tripped over Chris.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded as I stumbled forward and instinctively grabbed hold of his shoulder to steady myself. 

He stood up from where he’d been seated on the step and brushed off the back of his jeans.  “I was asking myself the same thing,” he told me.  “Coming over here seemed like a good idea at the time but the longer I sat here waiting for you to come out, the more doubts I had.”

“Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“It’s early.  I didn’t want to wake your mom if she was home.”

“When is she ever home?” I replied wryly. 

“Have you told her about the plastic surgery?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t you?  I mean, won’t you need someone to help you out while you’re recovering?”

I shrugged.  “I guess.  Chris, why are you here?”

“Can I come in?”

Stating the obvious, I pointed out, “I’m just leaving.”

“Do you have a class now?”

“A class…no, I dropped out of college.”  Saying the words aloud made me feel like a failure.

Chris wasn’t able to hide his surprise.  “That doesn’t sound like you,” he observed.  “You’ve been talking about going to college for as long as I’ve known you.  Why did you drop out?”

“Plastic surgery isn’t exactly cheap.”

“No, I suppose not.  Is that where you’re headed
to now?”

“
My consultation appointment is this morning.”

“
Just give me five minutes,” he insisted.  “Then I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

“Alright, fine.  C
ome in.”

As soon as we walked in
to the entryway, I had a flashback to the very first time I’d brought Chris inside my house.  I could practically smell the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies…and feel his lips on mine.  A warm glow spread over me as I recalled the evening I’d never forget.

“Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the couch.

“Sure.”

Not wanting to sit down, I perched awkwardly on the edge of the coffee table across from him.  Sitting next to him on the couch would be too reminiscent of the morning I’d thrown the cereal bowl at his head in a fit of wounded rage. 
I felt dumb for lashing out like that and the last thing I wanted was to remind Chris of my embarrassing conduct.

He looked at me, his long legs stretched out in front of him.  “I’ve been through a lot of surgeries,” he reminded me.  “They aren’t pleasant.”

“Okay…?”

“If getting plastic surgery is your dream or something, then I don’t want to crush it,” he explained.  “
I’ll support you no matter what your decision is.  I hope you know that.  It’s just that…when we were together you never talked about it, not even once.  I didn’t know you were even considering it.”

“Me neither.”

“Well…what changed?”

I shrugged.

Chris took a deep breath and gave me an apologetic look.  “This might sound incredibly self-absorbed and pretentious,” he warned me.  “If it does, please know that’s not what I’m shooting for.  I just…don’t know any other way to say it.”

“Just say it.”

“Alright…um, basically I’m just here because I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I have something to do with your decision,” he said.  “Maybe if I’d just told you how I was feeling and that falling for you terrified me, you wouldn’t have assumed my behavior had to do with seeing your birthmark.”

“I probably would have,” I confessed.  “I’ve been insecure about it for as long as I can remember, to tell the truth.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t want you to know.  I
didn’t want your pity.  I just wanted to be normal for once.  And when I was with you, back before you could see me, I got to feel like any other girl.”

“You’re not like any other girl,” Chris in
terjected.  “You’re one of a kind, Michelle.”

I looked at him. 
“Did you really come all the way over here just to make sure I wasn’t having surgery for the wrong reasons?”

“Yes.  Well, no.”

“Well then what…?”

Chris traced his hand lightly over the armrest of the couch, suddenly taking far more interest in it than was warranted.  Then he looked up at me.  “This might be completely out of line,” he said, “but I was hoping you’d go on a date with me.”

“Chris –”

He held up a hand, signalling he wasn’t finished yet.  “It would be me as me and you as you.  No secrets…no false pretenses.  I know you don’t trust me because of the guy I used to be but I want to try to prove to you that I really have changed.  Please,
can we just put the past behind us and try to start over?”

In a quiet voice, I confessed, “I was wrong.”

“You were wrong about what?”

“People can change,” I said, my fingers running
lightly over the lucky penny in my pocket.

“You think I’ve changed?” he asked hopefully.

I nodded.  The proof was in the penny.  Chris really cared.  He always had.

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes.  It means yes.  I’d love to go on a date with you.”

T
he receptionist at the plastic surgeon’s office was a little snarky with me when I called to reschedule my consultation appointment yet again.  Normally knowing I’d annoyed someone would bother me tremendously, but I was in too much of a daze to care. 

When she gave me a hard time about rescheduling yet again, I told her to go ahead and cancel the appointment
altogether.  Maybe I’d reschedule someday or maybe I wouldn’t. I’d revisit that after I had my college degree and a career that allowed me to sponsor a child in Africa.  Those had always been my goals and would continue to be until I’d accomplished them.

It felt good to be true to myself…finally.

When I thought about it – I mean
really
thought about it, I’d been placing too much importance on that damn birthmark, just like I’d been focused far too much on the guy Chris used to be.  Sure, it bothered me that his nickname had been Playboy and he hadn’t been the nicest person in the world, but so what?  If he didn’t care about my momentary flip-outs, then I could look past his poor choices.

We’d both made mistakes.  That wasn’t the important part; everyone messes up sometimes.  It was what we did next that mattered most.

Our lives shape us.  If I hadn’t been born with the birthmark and been mercilessly harassed, I never would have crossed paths with Chris.  If he hadn’t been in the car accident, he wouldn’t have realized he needed to change the way he was living and the person he was.  Maybe in some strange way, we need the tragedy in our lives to push us toward the triumphs.

It was one thing to think all that but quite another to be going on a date with Chris.  I thought we’d burned that bridge long ago but thankfully, I was wrong. 

We didn’t want to do much of anything other than spend time together.  We decided to take a picnic lunch to a little park down the street from my house.  It had lush grass, a modest wooden play structure for kids and lots of tall trees.  Maybe it was a bit cool to be sitting outside eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches but I didn’t mind. 

My infatuation kept me warm. 

When Chris kissed me hello, my face began to burn.  We exchanged a long, lingering look before walking down to the park, me carrying a blanket to sit on and Chris swinging a cooler full of food.  As we walked, the backs of our hands brushed every so often.

“Is this good?” he asked when we were standing in the
deserted park beneath a tall oak tree.

“Yes.”  I spread the blanket out, bending over to smooth the wrinkles out.  I blushed when I realized Chris was watching me.  We sat down and both reached for the cooler at the same time, bumping hands.

Our eyes met.

Chris leaned toward me.

I didn’t shy away from his kiss, but when the hand that had been innocently resting on my shoulder began to slide lower, I stopped it. 

“Let’s take it slow,” I told Chris
with a twinge of regret.  I would have loved to fool around with him right then and there, but I was nervous.  Although I was learning to let go of the past, I didn’t want to rush things.  I didn’t want to risk making any more missteps. 

After we ate, Chris sprawled out on the blanket. 
I curled up beside him, my body tingling with urges I was forcing myself to shove aside.  “I never thought I’d get to do this again,” he said as he gazed up at the fast-moving clouds. 

I looked up.  Some
of the clouds were fluffy and white, like oversized, weightless marshmallows floating happily in the sky.  Others were dark and ominous, fast-moving and angry-looking.  I knew what those ones meant.

“
They’re nice,” I agreed.  “I hate to say it, but I think it might rain.”

His hand found its way into my hair and he mussed it up playfully.  “I wasn’t talking about the sky.  I was talking about being here like this with you.  But for what it’s worth I think I just felt a raindrop land on my forehead.”

“Can’t anything ever just go according to plan?” I grumbled as the sky opened up on us. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as he took my hand
, a sudden gust of wind whipping my hair around my shoulders.  “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

We ran down the street hand in hand, engaged in an unspoken race and tumbling over one another.  We were playful and uninhibited, both of us having let go of the burdens that weighed so heavily on us.  For the first time in
ages, I felt joyful.  For the first time in ages, I had hope.

Despite our best attempts to hurry back to my place, we were thoroughly soaked by the time we got there.  I unlocked the door and we dripped rainwater all over the entryway until there were puddles on the floor beneath us. 

“Oops,” Chris said, surveying the mess.  “I’ll go find some paper towels to clean this up.”  He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted his arms up over his head as he spoke, slowly peeling the wet garment off.

I couldn’t help it.  I stared.  No, I
ogled
.  I wanted to lick each and every water droplet off his broad, muscular chest and then move lower…

When he caught me looking at his bare chest appreciatively
, Chris grinned.  “If you don’t strip down you’re going to make an even bigger mess in here,” he advised me with a wink.  Even as he spoke, he was kicking off his waterlogged shoes and unzipping his jeans. 

Snapping out of my daze, I opened the entryway closet.  Space was limited in the comfortable but cramped house, so it doubled as a linen closet.  I pulled out a towel and tossed it at Chris
even though he seemed to take no issue with walking around in his boxers.  I quickly wrapped another towel around myself, not removing my clothes until it was covering me.

He wasn’t quite able to hide his disappointment.

“Do you ever use the fireplace?” he asked, eyeing the brick structure protruding from the far wall in the living room.

“Rarely,” I replied as I toweled off my dripping hair.

“A fire might be nice right about now,” he said, rubbing his hands together briskly.  I knew how he felt.  The temperature had dropped notably as soon as the sky had opened up and my own skin felt cold and clammy after being exposed to the elements.

“Well you’re in luck,” I told him.  “It’s an electric fireplace.”  I flipped a switch and it roared to life, its faux flames burning brightly.  “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate
to warm us up,” I added before I turned and walked into the kitchen.

As I waited for the kettle to boil, stirred in the syrup and added plenty of marshmallows, I kept sneaking glances at Chris
in the next room.  He was sprawled out on the couch with his eyes half shut, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward in a small half-smile.  He looked totally content.  In that moment, I wanted to hug him.

I carried the mugs of frothy hot chocolate into the living room carefully, not wanting to spill.  Chris heard me coming and sat up, rubbing his eyes.  “I used to dream about that sound, you know,” he told me.

“What, the sound of a spoon clinking against a mug?”

“Nah, I meant the sound of your footsteps.”

“Mine specifically?”

“Yes.”

I handed him one of the mugs.  “Careful,” I cautioned.  “It’s hot.”

“Hot chocolate is well-named.”

“Oh, so your terrible sense of humor is still living in there,” I smirked as I stood next to the couch where he sat.

“If by terrible you mean incredibly witty and clever, then yes.”
  He grabbed a coaster from its home on the coffee table and set his mug down on it.  Then he reached out for me.  “Come here.”

Right as I nestled into Chris’s arms, a loud clap of thunder made me jump.  He chuckled and tightened his grip around me, silently reassuring me that he’d always be my protector.  His
chin rested on top of my head and, for a moment, we just stared at the fireplace in silence.

“Is this weird for you?” I finally asked.

“It’s been a long time,” he replied.  “It feels familiar and new all at once.”

“I know what you mean.”

His fingertips stroked my arm idly, the sensation pleasant and soothing on my skin.  “Listen Michelle…back there at the park I wanted to give you something but we uh, kind of got interrupted.” 

“Ooh, a present?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”  He reached past me and grabbed his jeans from where he’d draped them over the back of the couch.  He extracted something from the front pocket.  Then he held his hand in front of my face and opened it to reveal a small gold ring with a tiny, perfect diamond on top. 

My eyes widened.  “Is that…is that real?” I asked, leaning in closer for a better look.  I’d
never had anything that wasn’t made of a cubic zirconia and cheap metal that made my skin turn a sickly shade of green. 

“Uh huh, but don’t worry, I’m not proposing or anything,” Chris chuckled.  “
When the time comes, your engagement ring will be a hell of a lot flashier – if that’s what you want.  I heard what you said about wanting to take things slow.  Hopefully this isn’t too much, but…it’s a promise ring.”

Had he really just mentioned our future engagement?  I was floored.  Stunned, I barely managed to stammer, “You didn’t have to…” 

“I want to,” he told me.  “This is my promise to you that we’ll take as much time as you need but someday, when you’re ready?  I want to marry you, Michelle.  I’ll wait as long as it takes.  I’ll spend my whole life waiting if I have to because I don’t want anyone else.  I only want you.”

My hand shook a little as Chris slid the ring onto my finger.  The diamond sparkled beautifully in the light cast from the fireplace.  I could hardly believe it was mine.
  I could hardly believe
he
was mine.

Just then there was yet another loud crack of thunder.  Chris and I peered out the living room window.  The street was like a lake, with big chunks of hail
pelting the pavement and rain violently pouring down.  The wind whipped through the trees and the sky had grown dark.  It was only the middle of the afternoon but it looked as black as midnight outside.

“It looks like we made it in just in time,” he commented.

As though right on cue, the power cut out, leaving us in complete darkness.  It was almost spooky how quickly things had changed.  Outside, the storm howled as Mother Nature waged an angry assault against the side of the house.  “Well,” I remarked sarcastically, “I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”

“Nice one.”

My eyes widened.  “Oh God, Chris I wasn’t even thinking…”  It was awful to think that for a while, this had been what Chris saw every day:  darkness.  It was what he feared he might never be able to push aside.  And now, in true Michelle fashion, I’d gone and put my foot in my mouth yet again.  I made a mental note to cut the people who blurted out stupid things about my birthmark some slack.  Sometimes being tactful is easier said than done.

He chuckled.  “Don’t feel bad.  I have a warped sense of humor, remember?  It was funny.”  After a moment of silence,
Chris’s hand found mine.  “It kind of feels like old times,” he murmured, his words muffled by my damp hair.

“It does…it really does.” 
My fingers curled around his, making sure he couldn’t let go – not that I thought he would.