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Let me tell you how it is to live with a blind person. Our house is huge, but its only one floor. The hallways are wide enough and free and clean. The floor surfaces have different textures so the blind person can notice whenever they are in the kitchen and not in the bathroom. And believe me, it isn’t funny when you have to carry you five years younger sister when she accidentally pull down her shorts in the middle of the living room to poop.
Juliette didn’t born blind. Well, sort of. According to the doctors, her blindness didn’t appear when she was born, but a germ must have got into her eyes at the moment of her birth, giving her a congenital blindness. Long story short, the cute girl with long and sandy hair sitting next to me? She hadn’t seen a thing in her 15 years of life. She knows whenever there is light or not. But besides that, she can only imagine the whole world.
Living with a blind person makes you learn new things. No one in their daily life has the necessity to learn to read braille, and neither to be a critic with all around you: like the sharp corners of the furniture that can make her skin turn purple, irregularities in the floor could make her fall. In brief, you get to be a little grumpy and over protective because the world doesn’t consider people with disabilities.
You learn that unlike girls without visual disabilities, when she turned 10 years old, he doesn’t care about dolls and she isn’t attracted to dress or act like her mom, but she retreats from the world and she’s more likely to spend the whole day locked in her room instead to go out and take a walk with our dog Terry. And not even him could make her smile when he licked her face or move the tail. No. She becomes a little bit harsh and aggressive, because who would love a ten year old girl who can’t understand what people talk about because she can’t see it?
Hehe. I love her.
That was when mom and dad look out for help with a physiologist. And the answer to their questions was that she just needed to spend time with people who could understand what she was living. I have to admit it, that hurt a lot. I had always been Juliette’s best friend in each step of her life. No one knew her the way I knew her, and to tell me I didn’t understand her…
I got to understand that later. She just needed to be with people who had the same fears, so they would help each other to get through it. Juliette started to go to Trost’s Specialized Deaf and Blind School. Long and boring name. I know. But Juliette started to get better. Now I could see her smile and hear her laugh in the cold and huge house, and it started to get warmer when she played again with Terry and she started to share what she learned at school.
“Hehe.”
“What are you thinking?” I heard Juliette talk next to me, without taking off her big honey eyes from the front seat. Those pretty and lifeless eyes that could express so many emotions and could shine when she was happy. Just like now. “I have heard you laugh two times already.”
“I need to have a reason to laugh?” I asked her, resting my elbow in the window.
“No,” Juliette sang, “I was just wondering if you were thinking about what I have been talking to you the last week.”
Oh, yeah. A friend of her… Marco Bodt? It was just a boy who got transferred from Sina, Juliette said he was a year older than me, and he had lost his sight in a home accident involving chemicals when he was a kid.
Poor guy. I sniffed my nose. He probably had half of his face disfigured. And now my little sister wanted us to be together. Of course, cause whose little sister doesn’t care about his big brother, single, twenty years old who was studying economy? It was normal. I mean… But it seemed that Juliette was excited with the idea.
“Do I have to?” I asked irked, but with a smile in my face.
“Oh, you’re gonna like him so much when you meet him,” Juliette raised a hand and I took it with mine immediately, interlacing our fingers and I could feel her squeezing it softly, “I wanna be your maid of honor.”
“Wow!” I laughed out loud. Like I said before, Juliette has a pretty big imagination, “Slow down the Fast and the Furious, don’t you think you’re getting a little forward about it? What if that Bodt isn’t my style?”
“Don’t call him ‘that Bodt’,” Juliette pouted, but then she blinked slowly, smiling again, “And he’s your style. You both are really alike. But Marco is cute.”
“And I’m not?!”
Mom, dad and Juliette giggled. I rested on my seat when the car went silent again.
Each year, the TSDBS made a sort of event to show the student’s families their achievements. It wasn’t the first we went to it, but it was kind of boring when I had to spend the whole afternoon with my parents because Juliette was busy with her friends and I couldn’t spend time with her.
It took us five more minutes to arrive to the school, and Juliette nearly tripped when she got out the car before I could give her the cane so she could look out where she stepped. She took my hand before I could notice and she drove me inside.
The school wasn’t so different from home. It also had the textures in the floor, and the walls had rails. The colors in the walls were painted in different colors for the deaf, the way I had learn about that in my first tour when Juliette was about to start school.
We passed the computer area and the dining hall, where some people called for Juliette, and she will only shout the greeting and raise a hand for the ones who could see her. We finally made it to the main garden, where some white sunshades that make it look too fancy, and there were a bunch of tables that make it feel it was a wedding instead of a school event. In the middle of all the tables there was a scenario with a big black piano.
I had to make Juliette stop before she could crash against the tables.
“Hey, take it easy,” I told her, patting her hand while we slowed down, I was a little bit curious, “There are at least a hundred tables all over the garden. Everything is white, there are some sunshades. Huge candelabrums in each tent and there are crystal jars in each tables with white little orchids.”
I knew she liked when I described her the places we went. Her imagination always made things bigger, of course, but she liked the details, knowing what she was facing…
“I don’t care about that now.” I raised an eyebrow when I heard her so excited, “We need to find Marco.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling free to do it since she couldn’t see me doing it. I didn’t understand why she needed me to know that guy.
“Marco!” she shouted over the background music, and some people turned their heads toward us. I could feel my face start to burn.
“Polo!”
I facepalm myself. A male voice had answered her in somewhere between the tables. I had no idea of where.
“Let’s go!” Juliette pulled my hand, but we didn’t move.
“Where?”
“Just follow the voice,” she insisted, kicking the grass, which meant she was desperate, “Marco!”
“Polo!” the answered again.
Well, at least it was the same voice. So I guided Juliette calmly between the tables, making sure she didn’t hit herself with any object and fall into the grass. She kept saying ‘Marco!’ and they kept answering ‘Polo!’, until we made it behind the piano.
“Marco!”
“Juliette.”
The same voice made us stop near a table, where a tall guy, with caramel skin because of the sun, and freckles, freckles all over him stood up from his place. I had to raise both eyebrows. I had to admit it. Actually I imagined Marco; I guess he was Marco because Juliette let go my hand and went to hug him (I needed to calm my brother jealousy…); as a thin guy, probably with braces and a little misshapen. But Marco was… wow. He wasn’t cute, he was gorgeous. His black hair in an undercut; I could see his ears, his cheeks filled with freckles. Millions. Like stars contrasting against his skin. He didn’t seem to be misshapen. But unlike Juliette, he kept his eyes closed. Maybe his eyes were burn by the chemicals when he was little.
The arms that hugged Juliette back were strong. I could see the folds of the clothes stretch because of that, and I felt bad for just been wearing a lame white shirt and a dress pants. His hands… oh god, even his knuckles had freckles. I could find thousands of constellations in there.
I had to swallow. No because a stranger was hugging my sister, but because the stranger was really attractive.
“He must be Jean,” Marco said, raising his head and heading to my direction.
“Eh?… How…?” I asked looking around me. I wasn’t a cat, but at least I didn’t have made a noise.
But Marco smiled, releasing Juliette and putting a finger in his ear. God… he had freckles in his ear—I swallowed again.
“I heard two footsteps,” Marco admitted, holding Juliette by one shoulder, “I supposed one of them was Juliette and the other one should be her brother.” The freckled boy extended his hand, “My name is Marco Bodt, a pleasure to meet you, Jean. Juliette has talked about you so much.”
I closed my eyes and cursed in my insides, and when I opened them again, my eyes flew to Juliette, who smiled happily. What was that little devil smiling at?
“Oh, well, I hope you have heard good stuff,” I hold his hand and oh god, there was an electric shock. I could feel it. It started in my fingers and it traveled over my chest to my toes. I hate to admit it, but my legs failed a moment…
“Of course I did.”
…
And what the hell you say when you meet the person your sister wants you to marry with?
…
Wait. WHAT?!
“Jean?” my mom’s voice brought me back to earth, and my chest burned when I noticed I hadn’t breathe in a long time, “Oh! You found our table.”
I turned to look at my parents when they appeared behind the piano, trying to figure out what they were talking about.
“Mom, dad, they are the Bodt,” Juliette said jumping in her place, still hugging Marco.
The Bodt introduced themselves, the same way we did. Marco’s mother was a short woman, with the same skin color as Marco, and she was the one to blame for Marco’s freckles. My mom and her were friends in just seconds, sitting in the table and talking about I don’t know what, women stuff. Marco’s dad was a tall man, maybe that’s why Marco was tall too (he was just a few inches taller than me, I’m not that short) with dark hair and tanned skin as his wife and son. He was handsome, I had to admit it, maybe that’s why Marco…
Juliette had managed to get us to share our table with them. I started to wonder what was bigger in her head, her imagination or her evil little mind. Don’t ask how, but I ended sitting between Marco and Juliette, she said I could get into the talk that way.
Juliette couldn’t stop talking. I rested in my chair after a half an hour of her talking about God knows what. I don’t know. I got lost in the second story. Marco just made few sounds, smiling widely. That meant he was paying attention to my crazy sister.
Instead of hearing stories I had heard about a million times, I focused in watching Marco more closely. There were pimples in his cheeks when he smiled showing his teeth; his nose was sharp, unlike his father’s. Holly shit, he had more freckles in his neck, which got lost under the shirt in his shoulders. I didn’t realize I had stretched my neck to look over him to look further under the coat until someone kicked me under the table.
I jumped in my place, and look in front of me to see my mom looking at me with murder eyes, maybe because I was really obvious trying to undress Marco with my eyes… yeah, something like that.
I had to cross my arms and sit in my place again, fighting the need to look at Marco. Now he was talking about his piano class. I don’t know, I just remember his mouth moving too fast and his lips pronounced the consonants too strong, and he stroked the vowels.
I must have lost myself in him because I earned another kick under the table.
“You don’t have fun in this kind of events, huh?” Marco said after I had sigh when Juliette stood from the table, preparing herself for her dance exhibition.
“Not really,” I admitted, remembering myself I needed to look at my mom. My leg wouldn’t stand another of her kicks, “Juliette always leaves me behind for her friends and I need to stay with my parents and their friends. You know, I might be an adult, but I get bored after two hours of business talk.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I just need to play two songs on stage so…” Marco scratched his head, and I could have sworn his smile was a little bit nervous, “I could stay with you the rest of the evening…”
He wanted to spend the evening with me? We have just crossed a few words in all the event! If I had been him, in the very moment I had noticed that a weird guy had been watching me the way I had watch him, I would have run away.
“Oh… Sure.”
I shrugged, ignoring the feeling, but I noticed Marco relaxed himself when I gave him my answer. Living with my little devil whose senses were extra developed had its advantages. Why was he nervous? Maybe he was worried I wasn’t accepting him? Please, that man could do me and undo me when he wanted.
I felt my cheeks burn when I realize the things I had think, so I changed the subject.
“So… you play the piano?” I asked.
Marco frowned comically at the question. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Juliette dances, or well… I think so. She likes to practice with me, but I’m not the best dancer. I mean, I know how to dance, but not the classics and the stuff Juliette dances to. It’s not like I don’t like classic music. I hear it all day. Not that I have that kind of music in my laptop, Juliette hears it all the time. Sometimes even Terry sleeps at that. Not because it’s boring, but because it lullabies him…”
I wrinkle my nose and closed my eyes shut, knowing that I had made a fool for myself. No. I didn’t like classic music, but Marco must play that music. I supposed it, of course. Because what other music he could play on the piano?
But Marco just giggled at my blabbering, and his laugh was cute.
“Actually I’m the music teacher in the school,” he said.
…
“YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!”
“Jean!” my mom screamed on the other side of the table.
“Sorry,” I said, cringing in my place and looking at Marco with a smile, “There are music sheets in braille?”
“Yeah,” Marco raised an eyebrow without undoing his smile.
“You need to teach me how to read them!”
Marco played two songs. The first one he just play it alone while we heard him. The soft melody played itself under his long fingers, stroking the keys with care and deftness, like when you touch a jar made of crystal. It was awesome to see how Marco played the song by memory, because he didn’t need the music sheet to play it. That surely made him a better musician from the rest, and… wow! That was incredible.
The second song was for Juliette’s group to dance with, dancing with a guy of her age. He didn’t know if the kid was deaf or dumb, because he was the one guiding my sister. And let me tell you that even she was my sister, even if she couldn’t see, her body moved with the song. I would say it was thanks to me and our practices in the house, but I’ll be lying.
When the presentation ended, Juliette ran away with her friends, leaving me alone again. But this time, Marco stayed with me. We talked about the Lord of the Rings, since we both were fans, so it took almost all our conversation in there, so two hours later, we decided to take a walk until we ended up in one of the party free gardens of the school.
We talked about a lot of stuff, I told him about my college and what I wanted to work when I get my degree. He told me about his accident even when I didn’t ask for it, and it turned out we knew some things about each other, thanks to what Juliette had told us.
“I guess she… she’s planning something,” Marco mumbled when we reach a tree in the middle of the garden, telling him to sit down.
“I can’t imagine what,” I giggled nervously.
Talking with Marco was really easy going. His laugh was charming, and his stories were filled with details, just like my sister’s. But his versions weren’t full of pink and sparkles. They were just warm, easy and simple to share.
I decided to try an old game I used to play with Juliette when we were both kids. I had to describe my surroundings, using colors and textures to describe the sound of the wind against the grass and the tree leaves, the noise of the party, each other’s presence and the warmth the last sunrays painted the sky. And he should do the same while I closed my eyes, imagining what he felt with his senses.
I tried to ignore the flush on my cheeks when I tried to describe him. I didn’t have words to do it, so I just jumped that part and keep going on. Marco didn’t seem to care about that, because he was smiling when I was done.
“Alright,” I said closing my eyes and resting on the tree, “Now’s your turn.”
His vision of his surrounding was a little liquid. He seemed to feel that everything happened so fast around him, but it was all music. Everything had a compass and a chord. Everything was smooth and perfect in the eyes of his soul…
And it was when it was his turn to describe me.
“French.”
“Huh?” I asked raising an eyebrow, still with my eyes closed.
“You’re French, don’t you?” was his answer.
“Juliette told you,” I said a little mad, opening my eyes frowning.
Which didn’t last when I looked at him. Because Marco had opened his eyes. Those big and brown eyes, covered with a light white layer. Never, I tell you, never in my whole life, one pair of eyes had taken out my breath the way Marco’s had. Let’s say I’m… a little bit special. I live with someone like that who make you feel those details.
“Actually no, she didn’t,” Marco kept a smile on his lips, without noticing my little shock, “But you have a light accent. Juliette doesn’t have it, she doesn’t speak French?”
I had to slap myself mentally before breathing again, shaking my head.
“She wasn’t born in France. I was…” I said, a little bit self-conscious of his empty eyes. “We came here when I was four years old, so my first language is French.”
“Oh… that explains a lot of things,” Marco giggled, “Can you say something in French?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Whatever,” Marco said pretty excited, “The first thing that comes to your mind.”
After a moment thinking about it, I said, “Vous avez de beaux yeux.” You have pretty eyes.
“And that means?” Marco’s dimples were visible with that smile.
“The afternoon is really pretty.” I lied in a shade of red. Marco didn’t need to know the truth.
“Oh.”
Marco seemed a little bit disappointed with my poor translation. He knew French? Oh god, then he had understood what I had said and he noticed I had lied with the meaning. Damn, now what I was supposed to do to fix this?
But Marco got serious after that.
“Can I ask you a favor, Jean?”
“S-sure,” I said.
“Come closer,” he demanded.
…Eh?!
“Marco, what…?” I tried to say, but Marco’s hand started to pat the air until he reached my face. I think I licked his fingers unintentionally when I was speaking, and his mouth made an unpleasant grin, making me laugh, “What are you trying to do?”
“Well, I think it’s lame to describe you just as French,” Marco shrugged, resting his hand on his lap without closing his dull eyes.
“But…” I raised an eyebrow to that, pulling away nervously, “I… I didn’t describe you at all.”
“I know,” Marco smiled, but he didn’t move, “I know you didn’t, Jean. Im blind, not deaf,” he made me blink when he giggled, “I know you tried to be fair. You can see me and you have a better idea of how I am. And I… well, I wanna see you.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t new with this. I knew what that meant. And that meant… I came closer to him again until I was face to face with him and I stayed still. I knew I didn’t need to tell Marco he could do whatever he wanted, because if I didn’t wanted, I would have stayed far.
I bit my lip, trying not to giggle at Marco’s fierce expression, as if he was about to find the key piece of the crime scene. But as I saw him raising his hands again to my face, my smile faded. I was nervous at the fact of feel his fingertips on my face, but I never expected to have a panic attack and start laughing.
“Jean!” Marco scolded me, making a pout that make him look adorable.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said biting my lip, trying to calm myself when Marco raised his hands to my face.
He first touched my hair. He moved his pianist fingers over the upper part of my hair and then he stopped feeling the short hairs in the down part. He drawn carefully the shape of my ears with his index finger and then he reached my forehead. I felt a chill when I watched Marco’s pokerface, with a little frown, his fingers dancing over my temple and my eyebrows.
And inevitably I got another laugh attack.
“Jean, I’m serious,” Marco’s pout didn’t help, “I can’t see you if you’re laughing.”
“Alright, let me breath,” I said breathing deeply and drowning some giggles that didn’t make it.
Marco put his hands over my face again, and this time I closed my eyes to keep the panic attack away, and instead of that, I focused in the soft touch of his fingers on my eyebrows, fondling carefully my eyelids and my nose, detailing my cheeks, slowly tracing my cheekbones and my jaw, where he raise again over my chin, and unsure, he delineated my lips.
He stopped and left his fingers there. And he didn’t say anything. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Now I was the one with my eyes closed, while Marco looked at me without filters. Have you ever feel that it didn’t matter you spent the rest of your life just admiring the person next to you? Well, I could feel it with Marco. Because in the silence I drank all of him, I could feel his heart beat in his fingertips, and his breathing rhythmic with mine. I could feel everything around us was fine, balanced, the light was right, the air blowing in the right direction, and the unnecessary noise of the party was overshadowed in the background.
When Marco put his hands down, the air stopped blowing.
“Juliette was right,” Marco said with a sigh, “You are cute”
I opened my eyes and the picture I found left me breathless. Marco had closed his eyes again, but the smile in his lips made my chest hurt and filled with an intense warmth.
And the next thing I did was born from the bottom of my heart.
“Mm-“ Marco said against my lips, putting his hands on the grass so he didn’t fall because of the strength and ferocity I kissed him, just placing my lips over his, cradling his face in my hands.
And before I could feel butterflies in my stomach like any other young-adult kissing the person I liked, I pulled myself back, thanking God Marco couldn’t see my horror expression.
“I-I’m sorry… it wasn’t my intent-I didn’t mean…” I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to kiss you, I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just that you’re cute too and I… I like you.
“Jean,” Marco sighed breathless, and I got chills hearing him calling my name before coming close to me, with his hands just the way I had held his face.
This time it wasn’t a simple kiss. It was a kiss filled with feelings and words, with pictures and contexts. This time, we didn’t look at each other, we just feel each other.