the Blind Bond

AMELIA Twenty more steps ahead. I was counting down. Stop and turn by 180 degrees to the right. It meant I had come to the roadside. There I needed to wait and concentrate on all the sounds around me. Focus, Amelia, focus. This wasn't like my hometown. In this place you didn't hear the constant honking of cars, the screeching of brakes and people shouting into their cell phones. This place didn't know the chaos of the morning traffic. So quiet. Almost like walking in the cemetery while the dead keep on living their eternal dreams. But I was still alert. I felt the vibrations under my feet. It was faint, almost insignificant. Maybe it didn't mean anything, but I preferred to wait anyhow. And then I heard it. The distant sound of wheels spinning on the asphalt road and the gentle growling of the engine. Waiting was a good idea. The car would appear from the left corner and if it went too fast, it may not have enough time to stop. And therefore I stood still. I instinctively put my left hand up, the cane slightly in front, in order to stay properly visible. It only took a couple of seconds and the car was now dangerously close. I knew from the engine sounds that it was an expensive sports car. An unusual choice of vehicle since we were in the mountains. Somebody was trying to prove something. Or it was just a spoiled brat with a macho complex. I had to dismiss that idea. I was not in a position to judge another. I didn't want others to do it to me, so I mustn't do it to them. I could feel how the tender breeze touched my face. The driver slammed the brakes and stopped right in front of me. The engine was now purring quietly like a cat. I put my hand down and prepared myself to step out. But then I heard an annoying honking. I.diot. I was aware I should have moved and stopped blocking the way. I stretched my neck, raised my head high proudly and stepped forward. The cane pointed me in the right direction. It was 12 steps to the other side of the sidewalk. Just another 25 steps straight ahead and I'd get to the café. To my surprise, the car was still on the spot, not driving away. What was the i.diot waiting for? Did he think I'd just jump back into the road? I rotated myself so that the driver could see my face. In my hometown, I used to hide behind big black glasses. The glasses were like a shield, my little escape from reality. Everyone knew what it symbolized, so no unnecessary questions were raised. But it was different here. This was my fresh start and I refused to be the weak one. People did have an initial shock when they saw me and, without thinking it through, they blurted out: "For God's sake, what happened to you?" or "Jesus, you've had that since you were born?". But I didn't take it personally anymore. I just smiled and changed the topic. I didn't want to talk about what happened to me. Most people could respect that, but there were some individuals who couldn't quit the stupid questioning. Those emotional vampires who literally enjoyed seeing you being crushed by misery and could suck the very last bits of human decency out of you. The car was still waiting on the spot, though. If I could have guessed, I'd say he was staring at me. Haven't you seen a blind chick yet, you moron? Well, it was possible I was the only one with such a handicap around here. I couldn't blame people for considering me a sensation. I raised my hand in a friendly gesture of waving. But then I changed my mind and raised my middle finger instead. Whatever. It was just rude to stare at a blind person. *** A tiny bell announced my presence as soon as I entered the café. The incredible aroma of roasted coffee, fresh butter croissants and apple-cinnamon muffins immediately hit my nose. Hmmm, muffins. My taste buds were trembling with anticipation. Ever since I went blind, my other senses have become more sharpened. As if the remaining senses tried to compensate for the loss of their buddy. I was more aware of smells and tastes. And I tried to see the beauty of the world, especially through those two senses. It was more difficult with the hearing sense, though. I was still learning how to use it more effectively. I had to concentrate very much in order to hear what the average person barely notices as a background noise. And I often got so exhausted that I just gave up. The depression swallowed me up and I started to feel sorry for myself. "Hi Amelia. Today is a beautiful day. It's a bit cloudy but the warm breeze is blowing lightly. The rustling of autumn leaves always cheers me up. By the way, you've arrived just in time. I pulled your favorite muffins out of the oven only five minutes ago." A familiar, friendly voice called out to me. Beth. I could feel her sincere and heart-warming smile from miles away. Beth was the owner of this cozy little café and she made these deliciously good cakes. I remember when I first came to this little town surrounded by mountains. It was a few months ago. I couldn't find my way back to the place I rented for myself and I got lost. I was so trapped by the helplessness and panic that I simply dropped to my knees in the middle of the street and started crying out loud. I had no idea that there was a small café across the street from which Beth was looking at me. She ran out into the street, dropped to her knees beside me and hugged me tightly. "My dear child, why are you crying? Can't you feel what a beautiful day it is? The birds are chirping and announcing the end of summer. Soon autumn will arrive and it's the most wonderful season of all. Be grateful for your life and the little things in it. Whatever troubles your heart, will sooner or later fade away. Come to my café. I have chocolate muffins." Beth was full of love and kindness. Words can heal, they say. If that was true, her words truly were like a balm for a broken soul. Despite the age difference (Beth could be my mom), she became my first real friend. She patiently trekked all the streets with me, explaining the history of the city and fun facts. "Apples and cinnamon crust. You're spoiling me." A light smile played on my lips. I walked over to the little table by the window. It was my favorite spot. All the aromas went in that direction and on sunny days the rays nicely tickled my back. "Erin will be here soon. Do you want some coffee?" "Soy cappuccino, please." Erin was Beth's daughter. Today was the first time we would meet. She studied veterinary medicine in Toronto. But she was back in her hometown and planning to start her own practice. It was a bit odd, because other than a few wandering cats, I thought no other pets lived around here. Maybe she was doing it out of nostalgia or to be close to family. "A new sports car was crossing the road as I was on my way to you. The driver was obviously an asshole." She wasn't responding to my comment. For a moment, I sensed she was not moving at all and probably thinking about something very deeply. "Beth?" "Oh, sorry. You were saying?" Beth swiftly steamed the soy milk for my cappuccino. Then she brought it to the table with two irresistibly delicious muffins. "Taking into consideration the location, it is quite unusual to drive such a car here. Do you know who it may be?" "Hmm, no idea. Perhaps a tourist. Oh, hey! Erin's here." It was nice to hear her voice serenading when she spoke about her daughter. I wished my mom was still alive. I wished I had a mom like that. The doorbell rang violently as the door opened abruptly. And I could sense that Erin didn't come alone.