Let Me In

Tom walked down the damp pavement of the Sheffield apartment complex. It had been raining for the past several days and it was the first time that the water had held up and he had been able to walk to outside without an umbrella. He hummed a random tune to himself, his hands deep inside his pockets as he walked along the path alone. It was late September and the temperature had begun to drop, not very many people were out and about because of the unfriendly looking sky and chilly wind. Tom didn’t mind the weather though, finding his way down the sidewalk until he reached complex number 417. Quickly he walked up the front steps and into the warm building. He took the stairs up two at a time, knowing the lift was probably out of order again. He reached the second floor and began his walk down the long hallway of rented room’s when the door to his destination was flung open and out walked the gray-haired care-taker that he had become so acquainted with.

“Jillian?” He called out as she wrapped her knitted shall around her body. Her wrinkling cheeks were flushed and her eyebrows were furrowed together. She was muttering obscenities and completely ignored Tom as he stood in the center of the hallway. Tom grasped her forearm as she hurriedly tried to pass him and pulled her back slightly.

“Wha’s going on?” He asked, concern painting his voice. Her dark brown eyes met his and she shook her head, her short gray hair falling in every which way.

“Today was a bad day.” Jillian’s heavy German accent was even harder to understand because she was clearly troubled. Tom let go of her arm slowly, looking at the door marked 31B then back to the aging care-taker.

“Wha’ ‘appened?” He asked, trying to understand so he didn’t walk into the flat completely unarmed. Jillian sighed, wrapping her shall even tighter around her fragile body as she looked around the long hallway.

“Her parents came up in conversation,” She started, letting out a long breath and beginning to massage her temples, “I accidentally used some words I shouldn’t have; sometimes I forget how sensitive she is.”

Tom’s heart clenched uncomfortably as he nodded in understanding. “I’ll stay wif ‘er tonight,” He said, fidgeting on his heels, “Don’t worry too much.”

Jillian nodded, patting Tom’s shoulder in a motherly way before whisking away quickly. Tom swallowed thickly before walking to flat 31B and pushing the door fully open. Instantly he heard the notes of a piano floating from deeper inside the apartment. Quietly he shut the door, toeing off his shoe’s and jacket before slowly walking towards the small living room. The small flat was almost bare, no pictures or paintings on the walls. Everything was set and stored away in designated drawers and cabinets. The flat was small and easy to get around, made with the intent for a single adult, but accessible enough for a blind girl.

Tom stopped in the doorway of the living room, his eyes instantly landing on the breathtakingly beautiful girl sitting in the center of the spacious room. He watched her nimble fingers dance along the white and black keys of the piano with so much finesse that he was jealous of how easy she made it look. Tom didn’t make a sound, just watching Skye Herring play the piano to get rid of her frustration. Easily, he could tell she was upset. Her cheeks were red and her fingers pressed harder than usual onto the keys. She was playing a faster song, Tom recognized it as one of Vivaldi’s pieces, but he couldn’t remember which one. Skye’s long hair fell behind her shoulders, resting on her back. He stared at her white and light purple hair, still marveled as to why she kept it that color for so long. He took his camera out of the small bag he had slung around his shoulder, quickly taking a picture before Skye could notice or hear the click of the shutter. She was wearing her favorite outfit as well, an off-white sweater with red and blue sailboats on it along with the first pair of skinny jeans she bought in her freshman year of high school. Suddenly the song’s tempo picked up and her finger’s thrummed harder against the keys. Tom bit the inside of his lip and just watched as the stunning girl took her anger out on the piano.

A knot had formed in Tom’s throat and he found it hard to speak. It was the days like this, when Skye, his best friend since grade school, was just overwhelmingly angry that he felt the worst guilt. Tom took the blame for why Skye is the way she was. Blind. It was his fault, his entire fault and wouldn’t let Skye or anyone else convince him otherwise. They were young and idiotic; all it took was one drink at a high school party when they were 18 that had the dangerously fatal concoction of denatured alcohol (which was cheaper and could act as a surrogate alcohol which made things easier for jobless teens) and methanol. Tom was there, he could’ve stopped Skye from drinking the denatured alcohol, fore they all knew what it was, but he didn’t. Skye was the first and only one to be effected by the toxic drinks, going blind within an hour after consuming the mixture.

After that, things changed. Tom gave up partying and began spending most of his time with Skye. Skye’s parents legally gave up care for her and passed it on to Skye’s grandparents who, within a year and a half of taking care of their only grandchild, died of natural causes. Skye’s parents had moved back to their homeland, America, her father finally finding overwhelming success and easily forgetting about their handicapped child back in the United Kingdom. Skye was given enough money from her grandparents will to afford her own place and to pay for her care-taker Jillian. Tom was also a large helper whether Skye knew it or not. He had taken it upon himself to help pay for the flat and medical expenses to help Skye gain her vision back. If she ever asked, he would deny it, knowing she would get angry with him and tell him that she could take care of herself. That was the kind of person Skye had become. When they were younger Skye was bubbly and happy, a flirty teen girl with ever-changing hair color and a new profile picture on Myspace every other week. Now Skye was independent. She was quiet and wise, paying attention to every detail in a person’s voice and even the tiniest murmurs of a fidget. She was almost scary good at telling people’s emotions and guessing people’s thoughts. It was just something she trained herself to do after being blind for only three years. She was average before it all. In high school Skye was a party girl, getting her septum pierced and a heart tattooed above her right breast was the least of her parent’s worries. She lost her virginity at sixteen and took her first sip of alcohol a year and a half before. None of the illegal things they did when they were younger seemed horrific at the time, yet now when they look back and regret the most of it.

Tom regretted it all. When he was alone, especially at night before he slept, he would think and obsess about how things could be different if they hadn’t gone to that party. He can remember the night so clearly it was almost horrifying; in fact, the night replayed in his nightmare’s like a movie, haunting him and plaguing him with guilt. He wished he could go back and change it all, but he knew it was impossible and instead was constantly trying to fix his mistakes in the present. Tom tried so hard and devoted as much time as he could to Skye. His older brother, Oliver, always nagged Tom about it. Oliver would say how he was wasting his life on a blind girl, how Tom should just leave her alone because Skye was always insisting that she could do everything by herself. Tom almost hated his brother at those moments because half the time Oliver’s words made him wonder if Skye was going to be unfixable forever. He would shake those thoughts away, thinking back on how heavy Skye took her parent’s abandonment and that she simply wouldn’t be able to handle her best friend leaving her as well.

Tom wouldn’t admit that half of the reason why he was always around Skye is not because he’s trying to make it all better, but because he was in love with her. He hadn’t told anyone about his infatuation with his very best friend and he didn’t ever plan on telling anyone either. It had been around a year since he realized how deep his affection for Skye was and he tortured himself by showing up every day to her house and only being her friend. He wanted so much more than she could give, but he wouldn’t expect anything but the very least. He loved Skye, even though she denied help insistently and was very, very stubborn. Tom had known her the longest and he couldn’t help himself. Skye was beautiful and smart and mysterious. Everything about her endeared him and she always left him wanting just one more second of time to spend with her.

He blinked twice slowly, refocusing on Skye as the song she was playing came to a sad, slow end. Much different from the beginning, the notes were soft and melodious, almost mournful. Tom sighed, taking quiet steps over to the center of the bare living room and over to the small chair placed next to the piano bench. He found himself sitting in this chair more often than usual. Skye played the piano when she felt the height of emotion and lately she was playing every day. The piano was the one thing she swore she wouldn’t give up because of her blindness. She learned everything by ear and was easily the most talented pianist in Sheffield.

Tom watched as she played the last notes, her fingers gliding over the keys until they came to a gentle halt. He waited for her shallow breaths to even out until her straighten spine curved and she slumped her shoulders, anxious fingers scratching at her wrists. He let out a loud breath, trying to let her know he was there without startling her. Sure enough, her back straightened again and she turned her head towards him. She was wearing black sunglasses. They were practically glued to her face lately, she was growing insecure of the ways her eyes sometimes moved into random positions and made her look like she was staring off into two different directions. Tom suddenly couldn’t breathe as she lifted a hand a reached forwards. The soft back of her hand met his cheek and he inched slowly forward as he fingers uncurled and she cupped his cheek in her palm. Her thumb ran underneath his eyes for a moment before pulling her hand away.

“Hello, Tom,” She said in a formal manor, her American voice making his insides squirm in a pleasant way. He let out the breath he had been holding and swallowed around the knot in his throat. Skye had memorized his face by touch years ago, yet it still took his breath away.

“’Aye,” He responded. Skye didn’t say anything for a long while, just turning back to the piano and sitting still. Tom desperately wanted to know what was going on inside her head, but he didn’t ask. He waited for her to speak, knowing that if he questioned her, it would probably set her off again. She let out a long breath, lifting a thin hand and brushing her bangs out of her face.

“I hate myself,” She whispered, it seemed as if she raised her voice any higher that it would physically hurt her. Tom listened, waiting for the rest to come. “I hate that I’m ignorant and stubborn and blind. I wish it was all different. I want to be normal again. I want to have my stupid parents back even though they’re heartless bastards. I still want family and friends and regularities. I want to go on annoying coffee dates and watch lame movies just to be with someone special. I know I’m cold and cynical and I hate it when people offer me assistance, but it’s not the help I need. I need… I need help.”

She wasn’t crying, she was merely breathing hard and clenching her hand around her wrist. Tom got off the chair and sat next to her on the piano bench. He wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, pulling her closer to him and holding her in a warm embrace. She returned it, hiding her face in his shoulder as she calmed herself down. Tom rubbed her back and waited for her breathing to return to normal. Skye never cried; it had been years since Tom had seen a drop of moisture leak from her eyes. It scared Tom that she never was weak enough to cry, but he didn’t say anything in case it was a delicate subject.

When Skye pulled away she sniffled a little bit, just to keep her nose from running. She swallowed audibly then nodded to nothing in particular before getting up and grabbing her cane. Wordlessly, Tom followed as she clicked her way out of the blank living room and into the kitchen.

“Would you like something to eat?” She offered politely. Tom sat himself down on one of the kitchen stools and watched her as she didn’t even wait for response before pulling food out of the refrigerator all marked with brail letters.

It was typical of Skye to ignore her moment of weakness. She was too strong of a person to even admit that she was weak, and when she did those moments were blissfully ignored and swept under the rug without a second look. Tom wished she would open up and be vulnerable in front of him, but of course that could never happen. Skye was too resilient, bouncing back like a rubber ball. She was almost untouchable; nothing seemed able to hurt her, but Tom knew that everything hurt her. He and Jillian alone knew that Skye was bottling everything up inside and that one day she would burst. Tom was waiting for that day. He was waiting for when she would finally explode and go back to being emotional and showing how she felt, even if that meant she was going to cry. So Tom was patient and a good friend, always there for her. He was always waiting for the day that she would just let him in.