geon floats into my mind.
I grin at the memory but
it doesn’t last long; for I know this
time, the limping bird is me. “You
remember the dying bird? Did you
understand him?” I blurt out and my
voice sounds abrupt and croaked. I
feel Al drawing his arms away from
me. “No one would actually say that
they don’t understand the blind. It’s
just that they have different idea of
‘understanding’ things. I’m only a
dumb, pitiful dodo in their eyes. Not
just for you or for some stupid idiots,
but that’s how everyone sees a blind
guy.” Silence. He has known me for
almost all his life and he still doesn’t
‘understand’. And I need him to
understand. To help me. To make this
work. “And she doesn’t know that.”
The words turn into a whisper as they
leave my lips and I let it gently hang
in the air. “And I want to be remembered in that way. Not a sad, sympathetic relationship with a blind man
but a normal, pleasant date. A small,
trivial, but happy memory she could
think about time to time. And that’s
enough.” Silence. As if we are both
waiting for something to happen.
And then he sighs. “Fine.”
29
July 23rd 3:54 PM
“This is the final version of
our recording. Okay? All you have
to do is to listen to it WHEREVER
YOU GO. (You don’t need to shout,
Al. It’s already loud enough.) ShutOkay. Be quiet, I’m trying to help
you out here. I want this to be professional. This is going to be the final