I trudged to the bus stop just in time. There was only a handful of riders and I felt exposed every time we pulled up to an intersection. All around me were couples in cars or career women driving their own sports cars. They glanced up at me with pity.
I steeled myself. There was nothing to feel bad about. I was working hard and one day I would earn what I wanted. I'd have a fancy car that I bought myself. I'd have a business I could be proud of. And I would always smile encouragingly at the people I saw saving money by taking the bus.
The bus dropped me at a quiet corner and I dragged my feet down the block. There were four small apartment buildings, each four stories high and set in between old houses that had been there since before the city expanded. My apartment was in the second brick building, just a little studio on the second floor.
Even though three big steps brought me across the entirety of the cramped studio, it was mine and it was peaceful.
I made my way to the teensy bathroom where I peeled off my coffee-stained jeans and dropped them on the floor. The water pressure was terrible but the temperature was just right. I let the whole apartment steam up as I stepped into the shower and scrubbed the smell of cream and caramel out of my hair.
With the lilac shampoo.
What would Brenden think if he knew I’d gotten it in the discount bin because the bottle was horribly dented? I'd been proud of my thrift that day, but now it seemed so sad. Brenden's hair gleamed and had the light scent of mint.
I shook off thoughts of him again and stepped out of the shower.
It was late and my feet ached. I pulled on a soft pair of black pants and stretched across the tight expanse of my apartment. A few minutes of deep breathing and long stretches and I felt a little better.
I pulled my laptop out from its hiding place under my coffee table and opened my school app. After a double shift at the coffee shop, my brain felt like mush. That must have been why it kept spinning back to my meeting Brenden. Still, I rubbed my scalp and forced myself to get focused.
Earning my online business degree was the first step in my new future and I wasn't going to let bone-deep exhaustion get in my way. I carefully read the posted articles and took meticulous notes. It was well past one in the morning when I managed to tear myself away from the computer screen.
With all the numbers and stats and examples I had read, my brain was spinning. To calm down, I went over the day and picked out the lucky and good things that had happened to me.
And I fell asleep smiling as Brenden stepped up to the coffee shop counter in my dreams.
Chapter 4
Brenden
I'd only been at work an hour before I wished for another coffee. Rachel had kept me up half the night before, going room by room with her ideas for redecorating my mansion. As if I cared what color wallpaper was in the hallway.
I yawned and imagined how nice it would be to stand in the coffee shop line again. Faith's melodic voice would lead me to the front and I'd get a chance to hear her smile again.
I had never thought it was possible but my doctors had assured me that soon I would pick up on social cues in other ways. Smiles had a way of warming people's voices while frowns made their voices tighter and gruffer.
Faith's voice had been distracted but warm and smiling. It was the best thing I'd heard all morning.
Rachel had complained all the way to work that she didn't get dropped off first. And I'd been in meetings since then, trying to discern the real intentions of my colleagues through inflections in their voices.
If I couldn't hear the new barista's lovely voice again, I would have to settle for a fresh cup of coffee. I knocked my cane over as I got up, but refused to pick it up. It was the last thing I wanted people to see in the office.
When I counted my steps down to the break room and fumbled my way through the door, I heard all conversation die. My colleagues cringed as I counted my way over to the coffeemaker and groped gently for a clean mug.
"Want me to help with that?" one asked.
"No, thanks. Don't let me interrupt," I said.
I was glad my back was turned as I bit my lip and concentrated on pouring into the mug. I listened to the splashing of the coffee and guessed when it was nearing the top. Everyone gave a sigh of relief when I didn't spill coffee all over everything.
When I first started losing my vision, I had prided myself on fooling people at first. Eventually, though, I started slipping up and I could always feel when they noticed my handicap. They suddenly stuttered, or fell a step behind me.
Now, the break room conversations continued in a halting, awkward manner. I leaned against the counter so as not to make anyone uncomfortable by fumbling for a chair. Still, they all seemed relieved when one of the board members barged in and demanded the room.
"You cornering me, Paulson?" I asked.
James Paulson, a longtime board member and close friend of my father's, blocked the break room door. "How else am I supposed to have a conversation with you. You won't return my phone calls."
I put down my coffee. "That's because there is nothing more to say about the Navy deal. It's a go."
"But what about the numbers I showed you?"
I snorted. "I saw your numbers but they were all projections. You can't say any of that will happen for certain. And I happen to believe we will see a steady return on our investment."
"But what about your father's legacy? He didn't retire just to watch you make risky deals he would never have signed off on," Paulson said.
I stood up and measured my steps until I stood right in front of him. It wasn't hard to stand face to face with him because his breath smelled of an onion bagel and I was able to position myself directly in front.
"The board presents the facts and argues their cases, but my decisions are final," I reminded him. "And I happen to know there are plenty of other board members that back my play."
"'Back my play;' listen to yourself. This isn't high school football, Brenden," he said.
"The board doesn’t run this company. I do.” I leveled my sightless eyes at Paulson's onion-breath face.
Paulson's voice was gritty and I could tell he was frowning. "A lot of board members are waiting to see if you can handle this. It's a lot, Brenden, even for someone--"
"Who can see?" I snapped.
"Someone without additional challenges," Paulson said smoothly. "I promised your father, my friend, that I would look out for your best interests at work."
"Then tell the board of directors the Navy deal goes through," I said.
"I'm sorry, Brenden. We took some hits after your father left. And then to find out about your eyesight, well, the board of directors is reeling. They want stability," Paulson said.
"And what they're getting is a new era," I said. "My father would never have sat on his ass and coasted on what's worked before. He pushed this company to succeed every single day he worked and now that he's happily retired, it's my job to push us into the future. A future I hope you get to see with us."
Paulson inhaled sharply but softened his tone when he talked next. "Fine. I will speak to the other members about the Navy deal. But the board needs assurances, Brenden. They need to see that you are capable of handling all of this."
I pushed Paulson aside and strode to my office. I thanked my lucky stars that my step counting was correct and I didn't crack into the doorframe as I entered my office. I shut the door behind me and took a few long, deep breaths.
"Get Rachel on the phone," I called to my assistant.
I wanted to hear a friendly voice but I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as Rachel picked up.
"I hope you're calling to tell me you’re getting out of that silly fundraiser. Stacia and Charlene are both bringing their boyfriends tonight. Do you want me to look like some sad fifth wheel?"
"I don't, but I also want to raise money for charity," I said.
She ignored my moral high-ground. "Just write a check. I can't go out alone tonight. You never think a
bout me, Brenden."
I listened to her wheedling and whining and a litany of needs for a few minutes longer before claiming I had an incoming conference call. I hung up on Rachel and spent a full minute hovering over the phone.
I wondered who would pick up if I called the coffee shop. Maybe Faith's melodic voice would greet me. But what would I possibly say?
I jumped two feet when my assistant buzzed in to remind me about the board meeting. "I'll be right there," I said.
The board meeting was a relentless round of hooded remarks and words that didn't really match the speaker's tone. I was pretty sure that some of the board members were signaling to each other across the table as I stood sightless in front of them.
"As we've been meeting like this for over a year now, I think it is only fair that I tell you about the accommodations I've made for my lack of sight." I marched down the table and stopped near Paulson's chair. "I've hired an interpreter to review the footage of our meetings and fill me in on anything I may have missed. Like your written notes. This isn't middle school, Paulson."
There were tight chuckles all around the board table. I could feel quite a few collars being tugged as my colleagues realized they weren't getting away with anything unseen.
The Navy deal was pushed through finally, and I returned victorious to my office. But I wasn’t alone.
"Who's there?" I called. I caught a whiff of expensive aftershave and hand-rolled cigarettes. "Darin?"
"Man, it's like you've got super powers," Darin said.
From the location of his voice, I could tell my best friend lounged in my office chair, and I was pretty sure his feet were on my desk. Darin Freeman was my best friend and had been ever since we’d met in boarding school. There's nothing like being dumped on a foreign campus and left for years to teach you to forge strong friendships.
I knocked his feet off my desk and held out my hand for him to shake. "Guess I better talk to security about the lowlife nobodies they're letting in these days."
"I'm sure you can sense what finger I'm holding up right now," Darin said.
"The same one I flashed at you after you stuck me with the bill at the Ritz?" I asked.
"Like you can't afford it," Darin said.
The Freemans were a wealthy family, but not when compared to my father's billions. It went unsaid that I paid for almost everything. In return Darin always had my back, even when my sight had started to fail at the age of twenty-two.
Darin had spent years helping me adjust to sightlessness. He'd helped me count an infinite amount of steps, guided me through crowded clubs, and watched as I went blind. Now the world was just different shaded blobs but Darin was still there to help me.
"So, let me guess, you've got us lunch reservations," I said. "Must be nice inheriting money instead of a corporation."
"Oh, sure. It's really fun just watching my bank account sink lower and lower every year while your coffers get fatter," Darin said.
"You could get a job," I reminded him.
Darin leapt out my office chair as if he'd been stung. "That's insane. Freemans don't work. And we don't just do lunch. I have something better planned for you."
I groaned. "I've got meetings all day, Darin. I can't be parachuting over the city."
"Yeah, that was fun," Darin recalled with a warm chuckle. "Jasper was as white as a sheet when we landed. I thought I was going to have drive home!"
Poor Jasper hated Darin for all the daredevil thoughts he put in my head. "So what is it this time?" I asked, unable to resist.
"Wait, hold on, I gotta take this," Darin said. He loped over the corner of my office and whispered into his phone.
I sat down and put one ear piece in so I could hear my emails. Over the monotone voice of the computer, I heard Darin whispering lewd suggestions to some girl. He was deep into an affair with some mystery woman that he still refused to tell me about. I was dying of curiosity but did not want to hear any more ideas he had for what to lick off her milky skin.
Sometimes I wished losing my eyesight hadn't made me more attuned to sounds.
"Listening in, you dirty old man?" Darin called when he was done.
"I wish I could erase all of that from my memory, especially the part about martini olives. No more dirty martinis for me. Thanks," I said.
Darin laughed. "Fine. It's your turn then. Tell me you've got some hot office flirtations going on."
"Have you seen my office and my colleagues?" I asked.
Darin laughed again. "Come on, man. I know you can't literally have a wandering eye but there has to be some woman that's caught your interest lately."
"Yeah, maybe, but I'm still with Rachel," I said.
"Yeah? Maybe? Tell me more!" Darin charged over and perched on the corner of my desk. "I know you're still with Rachel, don't get me started on that, but I just want to hear that my wingman is still alive and well in there."
Darin believed that my libido was a direct indication of how I was doing. All through school he'd measured my mental state by how many women he saw turn my head.
Before my sight faded, I had definitely enjoyed the fairer sex. Rachel was a stunning, runway-worthy woman but I’d enjoyed flirting with every beautiful woman I saw. Darin often took advantage by picking up the women once I'd mentioned Rachel and moved on unscathed.
"Scoping out women is a little different these days," I reminded my friend.
"So how does it work now?" Darin asked.
I laughed. He'd caught me. "Fine. I met a woman this morning with the most melodic voice."
"She sounded hot, huh?" Darin asked.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I felt her soft voice and she smelled of lilac." I sighed.
"We gotta celebrate. Rooftop rum before the race?" Darin asked.
"Celebrate? Celebrate what?"
Darin smacked me on the shoulder. "Celebrate the fact that you aren't a dull husk of a man. This is the first time in forever that I've heard you show some interest in a woman. That's great news!"
"I'm still with Rachel," I reminded him.
Darin groaned. "Ugh. Enough talk of your dead-end relationship. Let's just get to the race."
"What race?" I asked Darin.
Before I could argue, Darin announced to my assistant that I would be out of the office for the next four hours. He dragged me out to the private elevator and before I could turn back, I was in Darin's Ferrari and he was pressing hard on the gas.
"This is kidnapping," I told him.
"This is just what you need. Youngest billionaire CEO of your company. Tabloid darling. And now star of your very own made-for-television drama."
"That news piece was your doing," I snapped.
"And now you have a reputation to keep up." Darin squealed around a corner. "You don't have to steer in a drag race, just keep the wheel steady. I'll be your co-pilot and I bet you a hundred thousand dollars you'll be all over social media before you hit the finish line."
It was easy to see even for me that Darin wanted to share my spotlight. After all his patience and unwavering friendship, I didn't want to deny him anything.
Besides, I wasn't going to let my encroaching blindness take all the fun out of my life. And I'd always wanted to drive one of those narrow, rocket-like drag cars.
The hands-free phone in Darin's car buzzed and Rachel's voice interrupted our race plans. "Hey, D. Where are you?"
"Where are you?" I asked, confused.
"Brenden? Is that you?" Rachel asked.
"I told her I was picking you up," Darin said quickly. "Hurry up, honey, I've got your boy all signed up for the next race."
"I, um, just wanted to say good luck?" Rachel hesitated. "Oops, they just called me. I'm at the spa. Bye!"
"Glad she's so worried for my safety," I muttered.
Darin cleared his throat. "Don't get me started about you and Rachel. That's a whole conversation for another day. A day when we don't have some high-octane fun right in front of us!"
I wished
I could see the raceway. Darin led me around like I was his kid brother but I had no choice. I couldn't see and the wrong step could get me run over. Still, it was fun and the roar of the drag racers made my ears ring.
Even down two senses, I could tell something was going on that Darin didn't want to tell me. And I had a bad feeling it was something I would have seen if my eyes still worked. Despite the thrills of the afternoon, that thought left a pall on my day.
If I could still see, would I like the way my life looked?
Chapter 5
Faith
I'd stacked books in front of my digital clock. It was impossible to tell what time it was but, even though it was still dark, I assumed morning would still come too soon. The thought of curling back up in bed usually followed me around half the morning, but I felt different. I was energized and my head was buzzing with ideas.
By the time I had stretched, grabbed a sweatshirt, and wandered over to my kitchen, I was wide awake and it was only four in the morning. I bumped my hip against the counter and stood still. Did I really want to be awake?
That's when a stray remnant of my dreams hit.
The coffee shop was a microcosm of business practices, and I suddenly knew how to create a menu for my own business that would launch key products.
I scrambled to find a working pen. The first one had dried out during my long study session the night before. I raced to the hook by my apartment door and dug into my coffee shop apron for the pen I always kept on hand. I scribbled my inspiration on the back of a discarded drink receipt.
I liked how the crinkled piece of paper showed both sides of my life: working at the coffee shop and my future business dreams. I folded it carefully and tucked it into my bra. I wanted to feel the comforting presence of a brighter future with me all day.
In only a few short hours, I would be pulling another double shift at the coffee shop before studying far into the night.
Just the thought made me yawn and I turned toward my bed one more time.
"No. Gotta study," I muttered out loud as I trudged to the kitchen and made myself a strong cup of black coffee.
I sat down at my table but pressed as far back in my chair as I could. I wasn't ready to dive into all the specifics and numbers and reasons my business would most likely fail in the first three years. I wanted to savor my dream just a little bit longer.
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