Blinded

“The accident actually happened in the front yard,” I added as-a-matter-of-factly. “I was five-years-old and it was snowing; it was very cold outside. I had a violet snow jacket on with a rainbow scarf, matching gloves, and a beanie. I also had pink snow boots with flowers, and I was wearing light jeans.”

“You remember that well,” Jacob mused.

“That‘s because it was the last bit of color I saw,” I said quietly. He didn’t say anything more. “I was throwing snowballs at Steve and he chased me around, Angela running with me. My mom and Cara were talking by my mom‘s car, a . . . a blue Volkswagen. She had chains in her hands and she was yelling at Cara, who was trying to calm her. Mom also had a bottle of some kind of alcohol in a clear bottle. It was a clear liquid, so I think it was straight Vodka.”

“Yikes,” Jacob commented.

“She was an alcoholic if I remember, and an angry one at that. She was especially angry that day, something about the chains. I think they were snow chains and she was mad because she couldn‘t get them on her tires. Cara was suggesting she get someone else to do it, but Mom wanted to do it herself.

“I was worried about her and wanted to help so she wouldn‘t be angry and ran over to her. It was slippery and I kept on losing my balance. When I got close to her I slipped into her leg, causing her to stumble and drop her Vodka. She really didn‘t like that and began shouting at me and banging the chains against the car. She kept on swinging the chains around and it came towards me. . . .

“I remember waking up to black. I heard voices, felt the people whose voices I heard touching me, but I couldn‘t see them at all. They explained to me that I was blind, that I would never be able to see again. Not long after that, when my sixth birthday was coming up, Mom left with a few family portraits and left a note for my dad and me. She hasn‘t made contact with me at all since she left.”

When Jacob didn’t say anything more I wondered if he somehow slipped out the door while I was sharing my sob story. “Still there?” I asked.

I heard sizzling stop then start again a few seconds later before he spoke: “Yep, just thinking.” I waited. “My mom died when I was younger. Don‘t ask how; I don‘t want to talk about it. But for a while it was just Dad, me, and my older twin sisters. Then when Dad was in a wheelchair and my sisters left to college, I was taking care of him.” He flipped something in the pan. “This is why I consider myself an okay cook. These look delicious.”

“And my dad left me home alone a lot, so I consider myself perfectly capable of making those dang grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Stop whining and take this,” he ordered and I felt something lightly touch my hand. I grabbed it and felt that it was a plate. “And here‘s your soup.” I grabbed the bowl and I heard him dig through drawers for a spoon.

I sighed, hopped off the counter, and went to the second drawer on the left of the stove. I heard Jacob stop immediately when I grabbed a couple spoons and held one out for him. I heard him mumble something about a girl who can’t even see finding the spoons before he could.

“Stop whining and take this,” I mocked. He snatched the spoon from my hand angrily and I went back to my spot on the counter, taking a bite out of the grilled cheese sandwich.

“You were cooking for a while. How many sandwiches did you make?” I asked curiously.

“Six,” he answered with his mouth full. “Five for me, one for you.”

“What makes you think I don‘t want two?” I heard him grumble and something plopped onto my plate. “Thank you!”

He finished long before me. I moved onto my soup after my first sandwich, leaving my second one unattended. I heard quiet and it made me suspicious. I waited a few seconds while finishing a spoonful of warm soup before I smacked the hand I suspected to be reaching for my sandwich. I felt his hot skin and heard the smacking sound and a hiss.

“How the hell did you know?!” Jacob shouted, probably rubbing his hand.

“Just because I‘m blind doesn‘t mean I won‘t know when someone is trying to sneak my food.”

“You‘re just plain scary,” Jacob admitted.

“Boo.”

Jacob end up making more grilled cheese sandwiches and he couldn’t help comment on my ability to eat as much as I can when I am such a small person. I asked him how tall he was, figuring he was about six feet, maybe six foot one, but found out he was a whopping six foot seven and I sunk back into my invisible shell. So I was small compared to him.

I thought Jacob was done with his questions when we started eating but it turns out he had more questions for me. We sat down on the couch and repeated the strange action of him coming so close to me that we’re touching to him realizing how close he actually is to me so he backs away like I have some disease. Instead of sitting on the other side of the couch he sat on the reclining chair next to me. I turned on the T.V. and listened to the sound of people arguing, beeps going in the place of bad words, which was most of them. Jerry Springer?

“Who was watching Jerry Springer?” Jacob asked with some disgust.

“Not me if that‘s what you‘re thinking,” I told him. “I hardly ever watch T.V. and it is obvious why.”

“Neither do I. Dad likes to watch sports.” He grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. “You said you moved because your dad is in jail, but I don‘t know where you moved from. And you speak Italian.”

“Are you asking if I moved from Italy to here?” He was silent. “Are you nodding?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Yes, I did move from Italy. Verona, Italy, the city of romance, where Shakespeare had Romeo meet Juliet. That‘s why I named my dog Romeo.”

“When did you move there? Have you always lived there?”

“Nope. When I turned six, after Mom left, Dad decided to move back to where he was born. Dad met my mom here in the U.S. while visiting his sister - my aunt and godmother - Cara. I lived there for a good portion of my life and Italian became my second language.”

“Do you like it here in Forks?” he asked.

“Um . . . it‘s all right, I guess. I‘ve only been here for . . . not even a week. Come back and ask me again in about a month or two and I‘ll give you a better answer.”

“Do you want me to come over every now and again during those two months?” I heard a smacking sound and I wondered if he did the palm-to-forehead thing.

“I - I guess so,” I admitted sheepishly. I’m not good with these types of things.

Cue awkward silence.

“So, erm, you live on the La Push reservation, r-right?”

“Yep. Lived there my whole life.”

“Anything freaky ever happen there?” I asked with much interest. “I love scary stories. I could tell you a freaktastic one about my mom‘s and dad‘s honeymoon.”

He laughed, obviously amused by my interest in stories like that. “Well, there is one that is tied in with Quileute history.”

“I love history too!” I said excitedly. I sunk back into the shell. “Sorry, I got excited.”

He laughed really hard at that, like gut-busting hard. I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. Me making someone laugh usually triggers my shyness for some odd reason that I could never figure out. He stopped laughing and said to me: “That was funny. You‘re kinda cu -” I heard another suspected palm-to-forehead.

We heard the door unlocking. “I guess you‘ll have to tell me that story another time. Rain check.”

“It‘s always raining,” Jacob told me like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which here in Forks it was. “How about I come over tomorrow?”

When I heard Cara and Steve come in I smiled over at them and asked, “Is it all right if Jacob comes over tomorrow? We‘ve got scary stories to exchange!”

Cara giggled. “You and scary stories, Mariabella,” she said with a bit of amusement. “I do have a lot of patients and appointments tomorrow.”

“And we still have to do some research on some missing people,” Steve added, searching through the fridge.

“So Mariabella will want someone here to keep her company,” Cara finished.

I leaned over to Jacob and whispered, “Code for someone needs to baby-sit the blind girl.” He snickered.

“Thanks for coming over by the way,” Steve said with a full mouth. “You sounded like you really wanted to.” I heard Jacob stop breathing. “You‘re welcome over any time.” He opened the fridge again. “But you owe us some cheese.”

Jacob and I laughed. “He used the rest of it,” I explained, putting all the blame on him. “He made about ten grilled cheese sandwiches!”

“Do you know how much she eats?” Jacob asked my aunt and uncle.

“Do you know how much he eats?” I retorted, a grin on my face.

“I just want my cheese,” Steve said with a chuckle. “You can bring some by when you come over tomorrow, Jacob.”

“Sure, Sure,” Jacob chuckled.

We all said our goodbyes to Jacob and I walked him to the door as Cara and Steve went out to the back porch. I heard him open the door and felt a chill, but his heat was still warming my body.

“I‘ll have food ready by the time -” I began before he cut me off with a surprise hug. He apprehended what he was doing and pushed me away slightly. The screen door opened with a loud squeak.

“I‘ll be waiting for that food,” he mumbled. He breathed in and I suddenly felt his hand holding mine, pushing me behind him, my fingers barely brushing his scorching skin. I felt him tense up for a few moments, my heart pounded, and I wondered why in the heck he would become so panicked.

He eventually let me go and felt him push me inside more. “Don‘t come outside. Tell your aunt and uncle to come inside too.”

“Why? What‘s wrong?” I asked, becoming just as panicked.

He was silent for a few moments. “They‘ll attract bears if they‘re not careful.”

“Bears? But -”

“See you,” he interrupted and I heard the screen door shut behind him. Soon the purr of an engine was heard and the tires rolled on the gravel as he backed out of the driveway.

Wolves and bears and . . . aren’t there mountain lions here? Oh well. Ahem: OH MY!