by Ann Tatlock
Well, never mind. I’ve decided I’m not going to ask anyone’s opinion. If my life were a democracy and the decision was up for a vote, the final tally would be however many to one. I’d be the only one voting for me to stay with Seth. Everyone else would vote against. Well, maybe Truman would vote for. Have I told you about Truman? He lives at the VA community home, and he used to be a doctor. Nice guy. We’ve become friends.
I know how you would vote, of course, Diana, and when I try to look at everything objectively, I do see how crazy it looks for me to stay. From the outside looking in, I can almost see the reasons for giving up. But I just can’t do it. Not yet.
I’m giving myself a headache thinking of all this. Suffice it to say, Ted is a non-event. I continue to stand by Seth. I think I’ve settled into a waiting mode with the hope that time will tell me what to do.
So what about you and Carl? What’s happening in Europe?
———
Sent: Monday, June 20, 2005 12:26 AM
From: Diana Penland
To: Jane Morrow
Subject: RE: Catch me up
I can’t say I’m not disappointed about Ted. Though who knows but maybe he’ll still get in touch. It’s been only a couple of days, after all.
You know I always liked Seth. You know that, right? So my vote for you to move on does not come easily. I know this has all been devastating to you, and you have no idea how much I wish Seth had never been wounded. You two should have been able to move forward with your lives uninterrupted. But it isn’t up to me. It isn’t up to anyone, I suppose. Fate has the upper hand, and as far as we mortals go, I’m not sure we have a hand at all.
I have been traveling throughout England while Carl slaves away, though he claims to be enjoying himself. I’ve taken in the sites at Salisbury, Bath, Dover, and a delightful little town called Hemsby. I never thought I’d do this, but because so many friends and students are wanting to know about the trip, I’ve started a blog. That way I don’t have to write out the same stories dozens of times over. If you want all the grand details, here’s the link: cruisingwithcarl.blogspot.com. In two more days we move on to Florence. Heavenly!
Tell Roscoe to behave himself. No more tangling with bees. Don’t forget both dogs have an appointment to get their nails trimmed at the vet’s on the 27th. Just put it on the credit card I left there for expenses.
All for now, Jane. It’s been a long day and my eyelids are drooping.
Sending love.
Diana
24
On Monday afternoon, as soon as Jane entered the lobby of the medical center, she heard music rising up from the atrium. She hoped it was Jon-Paul at the piano, and when she stepped to the railing and peered over, she wasn’t disappointed.
Taking the elevator down, she moved across the room and waited for Jon-Paul to finish. Even before the last note had faded completely, she asked, “Will you play Moonlight for me?”
Jon-Paul lifted his head and smiled. “I thought that was supposed to be Misty.”
“Misty?”
“Yes. You know, the old movie, Play Misty for Me.”
Jane thought a moment then chuckled. “Oh yeah, I remember now. Clint Eastwood, right?”
“That’s it. But you want Moonlight. ‘Clair de Lune.’”
“Yes.”
He patted the piano bench. “Join me, and I’ll play it for you.”
Jane sat beside him and watched in wonder as he lifted his fingers to the keys and began to play. When she was a child her grandmother had insisted she take piano lessons, which she had, but the noise she banged out on the keyboard left her teacher sputtering invectives and her mother pleading for quiet. Even Gram had to acknowledge Jane’s lack of talent and, after little more than a year, Gram released the teacher and everyone else from further anguish by allowing Jane to quit. Music deserved talent, Gram said, and for that reason even Gram herself refused to play, saying it would be almost a sacrilege to subject the great masterpieces to anything less than perfection. Still, Gram and Jane both appreciated music well played, with Gram often quoting the words of the poet who, upon hearing a symphony of Beethoven, wrote, “This moment is the best the world can give; / The tranquil blossom on the tortured stem.”
Now as she sat beside Jon-Paul, listening to the comforting tones rise up, Jane’s life circled down to this one tranquil moment. She understood exactly what Edna St. Vincent Millay had known when she cried out for the music not to cease; she didn’t want to come back to the world again. She wanted to stay here, right here, where it was safe and calm. No painful years behind, no lonely years ahead. Only serenity in the shape of notes. Had the music gone on forever, she would have happily stayed and listened.
But only too soon, the song was finished. Jon-Paul’s hands found each other and, fingers laced, settled in his lap.
Briefly, neither spoke. Then Jane said quietly, “Thank you for that.”
He nodded as though he understood what he had given her. “You’re welcome,” he replied.
She lifted her gaze from the keyboard and, with a sigh, looked around the room. After that small reprieve, she had to come back, to rejoin the world of old soldiers, of the sick and the wounded, of the shell-shocked and the brokenhearted. Back to Seth and to all the uncertainties that defined her life. She felt suddenly weary and realized for once the strength it took simply to wait.
Jon-Paul cleared his throat and fidgeted, making Jane aware of the awkwardness of their sitting in silence side by side, shoulders touching. I should get up now, she thought, but before she could begin to rise, Jon-Paul unlatched the crystal on his watch and felt the face. “Listen,” he said, “have you had lunch? They make a pretty mean burrito in the cafeteria here, you know.”
Jane frowned as he snapped the crystal shut and pulled his sleeve down over the watch. “Aren’t you having lunch with your sister and . . . the nurse?” she asked.
“The nurse?”
“Was it Melissa?”
“Oh yeah.” He gave a small nod. “Melissa. No, not today.”
“Then why are you here? I mean, at the hospital?”
“Well, I . . . I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I suppose I wanted some time away from the office. Coming here and playing the piano seemed like the thing to do. So what do you say? Would you like to have lunch?”
“Um, I . . .”
Jon-Paul’s smile faded as he looked pensive. “Perhaps I’m stepping out of bounds. I didn’t mean—”
“No, no. It’s all right. Actually, I’m famished. But let’s not go to the cafeteria. There’s a place called the Eden Grille over by the mall. Have you been there?”
“Once or twice. As I recall, it was pretty good.”
“All right, then. My car’s in the lot. I’ll drive.”
———
The hostess led them to a booth and laid a couple of menus on the table. Jon-Paul took off his suit coat and tossed it on the bench, then slid in beside it. He loosened his tie, slipped a finger and thumb into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a rectangular magnifying glass. Tapping the menu with his fingertips, he said to Jane, “Would you mind showing me where the burgers are listed?”
“Sure. Let me find them.” She glanced over her menu, then pointed to the bottom corner of Jon-Paul’s. “Here they are. Looks like they’ve got quite a variety.”
Jon-Paul held the magnifier up to his right eye, followed by the menu. With that, he disappeared behind the laminated pages for what seemed to Jane a long time. She turned to the soup and salad section as she waited for him to reappear. Finally he settled both the menu and the magnifier on the table.
“You know,” he said, “once I was in a restaurant like this, and I was reading the menu when I heard a little girl in the booth behind me say, ‘Mommy, why is that man kissing the menu?’” Jon-Paul laughed heartily at the memory. “The really funny thing is I’m so used to reading this way, it took me a minute to realize she was talking
about me. I can only imagine how strange I must have looked to that little girl!”
Jane laughed politely at Jon-Paul’s description of the awkward moment. Though he spoke about it lightly, she wondered how such encounters really made him feel. “What did her mother say?” she asked.
“I honestly don’t remember.” Jon-Paul shrugged. “She probably told the girl not to make fun of the blind guy. So often people don’t know what to say or do. You know?”
Jane did know. Sometimes she had no idea what to say to Seth, or to Jon-Paul, or to anyone else who was somehow different. “I didn’t know you could read with a magnifying glass,” she said.
“Oh yes. I have enough vision left for that. At least so far.”
“So far? Do you expect your vision to get worse?”
“Yes, eventually. Probably in another three to five years, when I hit my midthirties. I don’t expect ever to be completely blind, but undoubtedly my sight will get a little worse before it bottoms out. That’s generally how it goes for people with Stargardt’s.”
“And yet, I think it’s great that you can read with the magnifier.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I can, but it’s really not that unusual. Most of us who are blind don’t live in total darkness. It’s a common misconception to think we do. Most of us are legally rather than completely blind, which means we do have some sight.”
Jane thought about that, realizing she was among those who had always assumed the blind couldn’t see anything at all. When it came to the world of the disabled, she had much to learn and many assumptions to lose.
“But of course,” Jon-Paul went on, “at home and at the office I have more sophisticated help than just this little magnifying glass. At both places I have a closed circuit television system that greatly magnifies whatever I place under the camera. I use it to read letters and write checks, that kind of thing. Then on my computer I have a program called Zoom Text which makes it possible for me to read e-mail and other documents. I actually do a fair amount of reading on the job. But I don’t try to read books. At least not for pleasure. I listen to books on tape or, more often now, books on CD.”
Jane put both arms on the table and leaned closer. “You know, Jon-Paul,” she said, “I’m ashamed to say I’ve never once thought about what it might be like to be blind. I just can’t imagine trying to do everyday things without being able to see what you’re doing.”
“Why should you think about it if you don’t have to? That’s just human nature.” He paused and smiled. “Anyway, when it comes to being with a blind person, you’ve got one thing right.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“At least you’re not shouting at me, as though my ears don’t work just because my eyes don’t. You’d be surprised at how many people turn up the volume when they find out I’m blind. It doesn’t make much sense, but I guess that’s just human nature too.”
A waitress appeared at the table, her order pad at the ready. “Have you decided?” she asked.
After placing their orders and surrendering the menus, Jane said, “I understand you stopped by Seth’s room on Saturday.”
“Yeah, I did. I wanted to meet him. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I’m glad you did. But I’m wondering what you talked about.”
“Oh, nothing much, really. I introduced myself, told him I’d met you, asked him how he was doing. We didn’t talk long. I know some of the other guys on the floor, so I stopped by to see them too.”
“Do you think you’ll go back?”
“I plan to. I asked Seth if I could, and he said yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Is that so surprising?”
“No. Well, yes, in a way. He’s been so down I’m just surprised he’s willing to talk to anyone. I’m glad he is.”
“Well, we have things in common.”
Jane nodded absently, then remembered Jon-Paul couldn’t see her gesture. “I guess you do,” she said. “I’m grateful to you, Jon-Paul. It’s good for Seth to talk to someone who’s been able to . . . well, as you say, to cope.”
Jon-Paul breathed deeply. “Fortunately, Jane, Seth is surrounded by people who have learned how to cope, or are learning how. He’s not alone. At some point he’ll come to understand that. What you have to understand is that it can be a long process. Seth’s loss is still new. I’ve been dealing with blindness for a dozen years now. You’ll need to be patient.”
“I know. And I’m trying to be. I’m willing to wait. At least I think I am.”
Jon-Paul looked directly at her. He seemed to be studying her just as though he could see her face. Finally he said, “You’re very unusual, Jane. Not everyone would be willing to stay committed to someone who’s become disabled.”
Jane cocked her head and frowned in thought. “I don’t think I’m all that unusual, really,” she demurred. “Lots of disabled people have husbands or wives or significant others who aren’t disabled themselves, don’t you think? Look at you. Haven’t you started dating Melissa?”
“Hmm, well, case in point. Melissa and I had lunch one time in the hospital cafeteria along with my sister, Carolyn. She was a nice enough girl, but I knew we weren’t going anywhere as soon as we reached the cashier and Carolyn had to punch in my PIN for my debit card. After that, the conversation we’d been trying to strike up simply crashed and burned.”
“Because of your sight?”
Jon-Paul nodded. “She was too uncomfortable.”
“She’s a nurse. She should be used to anything.”
“Well, having a patient who’s blind is one thing. Having a date who’s blind is something totally different. For some people, having a spouse who’s blind is unthinkable.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for her. She hardly gave you a fair chance.”
“Exactly how I feel about it.” Jon-Paul laughed. “But at least I was finally able to convince Carolyn to stop playing matchmaker for me. If I ever find a wife, it’ll be my own doing.”
“I hope you do, Jon-Paul. Find a wife, that is.”
He smiled. “I guess it’d be nice. But if I don’t, I’ll consider it a shame but not a tragedy. Lots of people don’t get married, sighted or blind. Lots of people who get married get divorced. Marriage is hardly the end of one’s troubles. Nor, very often, the end of one’s loneliness.”
Again, Jane took a moment to think. With Jon-Paul, she had both the need and the freedom to do that. “And yet we so desperately want it to be,” she said at length. “The end of our loneliness, I mean. We want to fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“Yes. Well, I suppose if we didn’t think we’d live happily ever after, none of us would ever get married. I have a brother who says it’s all just a clever ploy by nature to keep the human race going.” Jon-Paul shook his head and chuckled. “I guess he should know. He’s married with three kids.”
Their waitress returned carrying their orders on a tray. She placed Jane’s salad on the table, followed by Jon-Paul’s hamburger.
“Can I get you anything else?” the server asked.
Jane looked at her salad and back up at the waitress. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Can I have some ketchup?” Jon-Paul said.
Jane watched the way a line formed between the girl’s brows. “The bottle’s right there beside the salt shaker.”
Jon-Paul looked to his left, then back at the waitress. “So it is,” he said. “Then I guess we’re fine.”
When the waitress left, Jane reached for the bottle of ketchup and placed it beside Jon-Paul’s plate. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you could see it.”
“Thanks,” he said with a nod. He lifted the top of the bun off the burger and upended the ketchup bottle. Before replacing the bun, he asked of Jane, “Is it sufficiently drenched?”
She looked at his plate. “I can’t even see the meat anymore.”
“Perfect.” He popped the lid back on the burger and closed up the ketchup bottle. “Listen, s
peaking of seeing things,” he went on, “would you mind showing me your driver’s license?”
Jane looked up from the slice of cucumber on the end of her fork. “What for?”
“I want to know what you look like.”
Jane laughed. “The picture on my driver’s license bears no resemblance to me whatsoever. In fact, it’s awful. So no, I won’t show it to you.”
“Well, do you have another picture then?”
Jane settled the fork in the salad bowl and dug around in her pocketbook. In another moment, she pulled a picture out of a slot in her wallet. “This is my engagement picture with Seth. It’s the one we had printed in the paper.”
She pushed it across the table toward Jon-Paul. After wiping his hands on a napkin, he studied the photo with his magnifier. “I thought so,” he said.
“What?”
“You have curly hair.”
“Yes.”
“Is it still this long?”
“It’s down to my shoulders.”
Jon-Paul looked up at her. “You’ve got it pulled back at the moment?”
“Yes. It’s loose in the picture, but it’s pulled back into a large barrette right now.”
“But there are some loose curls around your face.”
“Yes. You can see that?”
“Only vaguely. And it’s dark brown.”
“Yes.”
He went back to the photo. “And your eyes?”
“What about them?”
“What color are they?”
“Kind of hazel.”
“Kind of?”
“They seem to waver between green and brown.”
Jon-Paul smiled. “Can’t make up their mind, is that it?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t wear glasses?”
“No.”
“Is your eyesight twenty/twenty?”
“So far.”
“Count yourself blessed.”
After a moment Jane said, “I do.”
Jon-Paul gazed at the photo intently, moving the magnifier ever so slightly over the two faces captured there. “You make a fine-looking couple, Jane.”
