The Manual of Darkness

by Enrique de Heriz

  I’d like a hard-boiled egg, she says to him, and I want you to cook it for me. Víctor agrees with a resignation that Alicia recognises all too well after weeks, perhaps months, of practice. OK, if you insist, I will boil an egg. Just one. But don’t think that means I have the slightest intention, etc.…

  Alicia has brought everything he will need in her bag. The egg, obviously, wrapped in several layers of newspaper. A small bottle of vegetable oil, a small quantity of salt in a plastic container, a long-handled saucepan, a plate, a knife, two forks, even a lighter specially adapted for the blind. With a long wand. She has everything covered. They go to the kitchen and both do what they are best at: Alicia gives precise instructions and Víctor carries them out.

  Hold the saucepan in your right hand, put your index finger inside. Find the mixer tap with your left and hold the pan underneath. Run your hand down to the bottom of the mixer tap and turn it on. As soon as the water comes up to your finger, turn off the tap. Set the saucepan down on the counter, but keep your hand on it so you always know where it is. Take the egg in your other hand. It’s right in front of you. At eleven o’clock. They have been talking like this for some time now, referring to the position of things as numbers on an imaginary clock. You’re going to put the egg in the pan, carefully, so it doesn’t break. Add a pinch of salt. It will raise the boiling point and also stop the shell from cracking. Take a step to your right. Find the burner you’re going to use on the stove. Take the pan and put it on the burner. Don’t centre it completely. Move it a little more towards twelve. Not quite so much, you just need enough space for the tip of the lighter. Since you haven’t turned it on yet, you can touch anything you want. When you’ve got this down to a fine art, you’ll always keep the lighter in the same place, but since it’s your first time, I’ll hand it to you. No, take it with your right hand. That’s it. Bring it closer to the burner. With your left hand, turn the knob to low. Hear the gas? Ignite it. Put down the lighter. Bring your hand up to your chest. Can you feel the heat? This part is important – if you can’t feel any heat, that means you didn’t light the burner and gas is escaping. In that case, you need to turn off the burner immediately and start again.

  Since this is going to be the only time, Víctor is determined to do it properly. He concentrates as though she were teaching him the most spectacular magic trick in the world. Which is what it feels like. To the observer, filling a saucepan, putting in the egg, the salt, setting it on a burner and lighting the gas looks like one single, continuous action. To do it blind is an exhausting sequence of tiny actions which work only if each is accomplished with absolute order and precision. You need to know what it is you want to do before you start, and afterwards check you have done it. Jesus Christ, he thinks, all this just to boil an egg? And we’ve only just started.

  Feel the heat? Good. Move the pan so it’s centred on the burner. Remember, you need to move a fraction towards six. That’s it. Now, you need to shut up and listen. There are people who put a teaspoon in the bottom of the pan so that when it moves they know the water is boiling, but I don’t like that. It’s too messy. If you listen closely you’ll hear when the water starts to boil. You’ll have to practise a couple of times a day for a while. Imagine you want spaghetti, for example. You can’t put the pasta in until the water starts boiling.

  A few bubbles are beginning to rise from the bottom of the pan, but Víctor does not react until the water is boiling steadily. Is that it? Yes. Now, the easiest thing would be to use a specially adapted timer, but I didn’t have time to swing by ONCE this morning and pick one up. It takes eight minutes so I’ll let you know when. While they’re waiting, Alicia tells Víctor that one of the blind people she worked with had a selection of operatic arias chosen specially because of their length. The person in question used them to time things they were cooking. Some older women say specific prayers. For a casserole or a roast, they might say a whole rosary. OK, that’s eight minutes. Turn off the gas. Remember the position of the saucepan handle? It’s at three o’clock. Pick it up and carry it over to the sink. Turn on the cold water. With a bit of practice, you’ll learn to take the egg out with a small strainer. In the meantime, let the cold water run and count to a hundred. Now it’s safe to put your hand in. Take out the egg. Open the bin. Peel the egg. You already know how to do that. Run your fingers over it to make sure there aren’t any pieces of shell left. Remember where you put the plate? Perfect. Put the egg on it. Take this knife. You’re not going to cut it into slices. Perfectionism is all very well, but sometimes you can go too far. Find the two ends of the egg and cut it in half. One for you, one for me. Excellent, Víctor, you’ve just boiled your first egg. All you need now is a little drizzle of oil. I’ll do that if you like. Here, I brought a couple of forks.

  But Víctor doesn’t wait. He launches himself at the plate, grabs his half and stuffs it in his mouth, chews four times, presses the mass against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, screws up his face, makes a low purring noise and when he turns his vacant eyes to Alicia, she sees that they are shining with tears and she cannot understand that it is not because of his hunger, because he likes the taste, that it’s not the salt, the oil or the egg, but the temperature, the unexpected contact of something warm against his taste buds which for more than a year now have been condemned to a merciless regime of cold.

  I’ll Wait Here For You

  She feels a little ashamed when she realises that a number of passers-by, surprised to see her holding a camera, stop and glance up the street to see what she is filming. The camera offers her a false pretext: she is about to film an important event and perhaps the resulting footage will one day be used to train future technicians. But if that were true, she would have told Víctor that she was thinking of filming him. Since she hasn’t done so, the only possible conclusion is that she is spying on him and that her very presence, with or without a camera, is a sign she doesn’t trust him. Because until just now, she suspected Víctor would not fulfil his promise and come alone, she was convinced that at the last minute he would be afraid and would call Irina.

  All this changed the moment she saw him approaching the bus stop, his body tense, his face grim, but walking with confident strides. And by himself. That is the important part: by himself. Using the cane. Since that moment, Alicia has been standing almost on tiptoe, holding the camera as high as she can, her right arm out to stop anyone else from wandering into shot. She is nervous: now and then she brings her hand to her mouth, bites her nails, curses the fact the bus is late. If she had to award points, she would give Víctor a 10 so far. He arrived on time and, from what Alicia can tell, he has done everything he should: he’s standing at the back of the bus shelter, well away from the road in order to avoid an accident, has asked whether there is anyone else waiting, explained that he wants to take the number 39 so can they let him know when it arrives. An elderly woman with a kindly face replied. Unfortunately, Alicia couldn’t record their conversation, but the images spoke volumes. She followed the exchange so enthusiastically that her lips began to mouth silent words of encouragement: that’s good, Víctor, you’re doing well. There he is, standing still, cane retracted, hands in his pockets. Actually, were it not for the fact that this stop is served by several bus lines he wouldn’t even have needed help. He’s perfectly capable of telling when the bus has arrived from the sound; all he needs is for someone to confirm that this one’s a 39. They went over these details only yesterday.

  The longer Víctor has to stand at the bus stop, the more anxious he will feel. Just as Alicia is beginning to curse the council and the bus drivers’ union, she sees the bus appear at the end of the street. The elderly woman goes over to Víctor, whispers something in his ear and takes his forearm. Alicia zooms in with the camera as close as she can, though she does not need to see Víctor’s face to know that he will be bothered by the woman touching him. Víctor’s lips move, he is clearly making a cutting remark. The woman lets go of his arm and takes a step back.
How rude.

  Tense, concentrating, Víctor recognises the sound of the engine when the bus is still some thirty yards away. With a speed that perhaps even the camera will not capture, he extends the cane. Perfect. The bus comes to a halt and opens its doors a couple of yards away from the stop. Alicia curses the driver. Víctor steps forward, holding the cane out in front of him, stands in front of the door, finds the first step with the tip of the cane, brings his hands up and fumbles for the handrail, climbs aboard and immediately puts the cane in the diagonal position to make sure he does not trip over anything. The woman is behind him, ready to offer help should he need it, but she makes no attempt to intervene. Alicia is thankful for her patience. Usually, there’s some arsehole in a hurry. She switches off the camera and tiptoes to the door of the bus. She is barely breathing. If Víctor finds out she’s spying on him, he will kill her. Through the windows, she sees Víctor take out the ticket she gave him, printed in raised ink so he knows which way it needs to go into the machine. Then he brings his hand up to the top rail, still holding the cane in front of him with the other, and moves towards the middle doors, where he stands next to a pole. Yesterday, she tried to show him how to find an empty seat but Víctor finally yelled, ‘I’m not an old man, Alicia, I’m blind. I’m capable of standing up.’ The bus moves off. Bye-bye, little old man, she thinks as she watches it move way. She feels like waving, like blowing him a kiss.

  She hails a taxi, gives the driver directions and tells him she’s in a bit of a hurry. She can’t afford to get there after Víctor. For the first few minutes of the journey, she watches what she has filmed on the monitor. She has to congratulate Víctor, he didn’t make a single mistake. When the traffic begins to clear and the taxi overtakes the bus, Alicia leans her head back, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. That really took it out of her. They made the same journey together two days ago. Without the cane, with Víctor still clinging to her elbow like a limpet. She talked the whole way. Stand like this, listen to that, pay attention to this, ask for that, walk up to here, grab the rail with this hand, no, higher up, get on board, put the cane here. Instructions. Víctor said nothing but complied. It was like carrying a heavy rucksack.

  The following day, they did the same journey again, but with one difference: Víctor still stuck to her but this time he was the one who didn’t shut up. When he wasn’t arguing loudly, he was muttering under his breath: Christ, it would be so much easier to take a taxi, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we even need to go anywhere … He tripped over everything in his path, elbowed people aside and at one point Alicia was afraid that he was going to hit her with his cane.

  The third time, he did not make a single mistake, but Alicia was reluctant to set too much store by this. She knows what he is like now. All he really wants is for her to leave him in peace. Some days he will pretend to be unbelievably clumsy, hoping that maybe she will take pity on him, or at least give him a break. If that doesn’t work, he does the exact opposite: he will demonstrate a skill which, far from being encouraging, is all about contempt. It might mean that he is ready to take the bus by himself, that he doesn’t need any more lessons, but it also means he has no intention of ever taking the bus again. There is only one flaw in this strategy: it’s impossible to fake a skill. So whenever Víctor insists on proving he can do something in order to get her to stop showing him how, Alicia chalks up a little victory. Her mission is simply to teach him how to take the bus; whether or not he ever takes it again has nothing to do with her.

  Since he refused even to discuss the possibility of doing the same journey without a guide, they came to an agreement. She would go with him, but she would simply follow and be ready to intervene if necessary. They decided to try the strategy out the same day on the bus back, and everything seemed to be going well until, as he was boarding the bus, Víctor dropped his cane. Instead of bending down and feeling around using the techniques which he had mastered perfectly in their first week, he started waving his arms around wildly to stop himself being trampled. One person did yell at him, but the real problem was the two girls who immediately bent down to help him find it. Víctor felt something brush against his leg and lashed out with his feet as though he were being attacked by a wild boar. Alicia had had to put her arms around him and forcibly move him away from the door. Only after she had had to listen to his hysterical ranting about how she should have intervened earlier did she manage to calm him.

  As she leans back in the taxi, it occurs to her that the real miracle was that he was prepared to try again the following day. She congratulates herself on her powers of persuasion, although it wasn’t easy. If everything is going to plan, Víctor is now standing next to the middle doors, holding on to the rail and counting the stops. In fact, all he needs to do is ask someone to let him know when they get to his stop. People are usually happy to help the blind. It’s not unusual to find those who will go out of their way to help. But Víctor refuses to ask for help. Alicia does not know whether this is out of pride, shyness or insecurity, but she tries to take advantage of the fact – for as long as Víctor refuses to ask other people for help, he has no choice but to learn to take care of himself. At this rate, he will turn out to be the perfect blind person. A little rude, a little lonely, but perfect.

  She pays the driver, gets out and stands inside the bus shelter, camera at the ready. Everything went so well yesterday that, as soon as they arrived, Alicia said:

  ‘Tomorrow you’ll do it by yourself. I’ll wait for you here. Eleven o’clock.’

  ‘You might end up waiting all day,’ he said.

  ‘Fine, I’ll take that risk …’

  The bus is approaching. Alicia gets the camera ready. The doors open and the first thing she sees on the monitor is the white cane, perfectly perpendicular to the ground. He finds the step, then moves the cane forward to make sure there are no obstacles in front of him. Next his feet appear on the screen. Ten out of ten, Víctor. The doors close, the bus moves off and Víctor stands, motionless, on the road. Alerted by the noise of traffic, Alicia looks up from the camera and is about to shout to him to get off the road when he taps the cane to find the kerb, steps up on to the pavement and, shrugging his shoulders, says:

  ‘Right. Well, now I’ve learned to get around by bus.’

  Which means: if you like, we can move on to something equally pointless.

  There are three steps between them. She stands, staring at him. She could kill him. She could kiss him.

  For an instant, Víctor thinks that Alicia is not at the bus stop. Only for a fraction of a second, but in that moment she can see the fear in his eyes. She calls to him even before she turns off the camera.

  ‘I’m right here, Víctor.’

  ‘I was saying, now that I’ve learned …’

  ‘No, Víctor. You’ve learned how to get on and off a bus, that’s not the same as being able to travel. Nobody takes a bus just to take the same one back. You take the bus because there’s somewhere you want to go. Remember the café where we had a drink with Galván?’

  ‘Of course. It’s on this street, same side, two blocks farther along.’

  ‘Tomorrow, I’ll wait for you there.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’

  ‘Tomorrow, tomorrow …’

  ‘Will it always be like this?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is there always something left to be learned tomorrow?’

  He is speaking in a low voice, but the words are like a scream: is this hell going to go on for ever?

  ‘No, Víctor. There will come a day when it’s complete.’

  And that day is not far off, though neither of them says this. They stand in silence. To reach that goal will be a triumph, but even to think about it is sad. For both of them.

  Tickles

  They both spent the first half-hour with their ears pressed to the door, listening for the slightest whisper, but some time ago, feeling a little calmer, they decided to sit on the landing
outside the door. From time to time, Alicia reaches up and hits the timer switch on the light. Everything is fine. The silence is tense, but they have relaxed their vigil somewhat because Víctor, like anyone else when they’re talking to a child of that age, is speaking about an octave higher than usual, in a sing-song voice which means they can work out what is going on inside the apartment as easily as if they were watching it happen. Alicia clings to the copies she had made of the keys and the knowledge that they can let themselves in if they need to is reassuring.

  Inside, they seem to be drawing. That’s lovely, Víctor exclaims from time to time. Draw a circle for me. Irina stares at the door. Alicia closes her eyes so she can translate what she is hearing into pictures. They must be sitting on the floor, since there’s no table. She visualises Darius holding the Parker pen. Where did they get the paper from? Maybe they’re drawing on the sofa. It doesn’t matter. What’s that? She hears, Mickey? Oh, Mickey Mouse. Silly me, I should have recognised him. Can you draw Pluto for me? You know who Pluto is? When they hear Darius’s whispered replies, Alicia opens her eyes and looks at Irina to make sure everything is OK. The boy uses one Spanish word for every two or three in Romanian. He has just said something. What? What do you want, Darius?

  Alicia would like to be able to make the most of this silence to talk to Irina. She wants to thank her, obviously. She could never have pulled off her plan without her help. Irina had arrived at twelve on the dot as they had arranged, and performed her role with the skill of an accomplished actress. I need leave Darius with you, she said as soon as Víctor said hello, as though she were in a desperate hurry. Neighbour she go holiday. No have no one to babysit. I be quick. Come straight back. Then, following Alicia’s instructions to the letter, she pre-empted any misgivings Víctor might have had by rattling off a list of instructions: in this bag is nappies and baby wipes, cookies here. Here, touch. Alicia had insisted that Irina get Víctor to touch everything so he would feel more confident. Irina had to leave immediately, thank you, Víctor, thank you, and having thrust Darius into his arms, whispering something reassuring to him in Romanian, she had rushed out. Alicia heard everything from her position on the landing. When the door opened, she held her breath, careful not to make the slightest sound, nothing that might reveal her presence. Trying to be a spirit. But she had her eyes open. And, seeing the expression of puzzled gentleness with which Víctor cradled Darius in his arms, she swallowed hard and thought that everything was going to be fine.