Today was an ordinary day. No one tried to bully me, and Keith stayed by my side the entire time. He told me he wanted me to meet his friends, and I agreed.
We had separate classes before recess, so as soon as the bell rang, I got up from my seat and slowly made my way to the café. Yes, I walk slowly, and being blind doesn’t make it any easier.
I could hear the chatter of students outside the café before I entered.
"Noel! C’mon, buddy!" Keith’s voice called out. He led me to his friends, and I sat down.
"This is Noel, everyone—the girl I was talking about," Keith introduced me. My nerves spiked. What if they didn’t like the fact that I was blind?
"Hi, I’m Isaac," a cheerful voice greeted me. I extended my hand, and he shook it.
"Nice to meet you, Isaac," I said with a smile.
Then, a shrill voice spoke. "And I’m Jessica, and this is Maria."
"Jessie, she can’t see," Keith reminded her, and I chuckled.
"Oh! Sorry, my bad," she said before someone gently took my hand in theirs. That definitely felt like a woman’s touch.
"I’m Jessica," she said as she shook my hand. Then another hand replaced hers.
"And I’m Anna," another voice introduced. I was grateful for my ability to distinguish voices—it made recognizing people much easier.
We talked for a bit and ate lunch together. Keith’s friends were kind, and our conversation flowed naturally as we reminisced about childhood, where we grew up, and everything in between.
"Keith, where’s your girlfriend?" Anna suddenly asked. Keith didn’t respond.
"Noel won’t mind. Would you, Noel?" Jessica added.
"Mind what?"
"Keith's girlfriend is a complete jackass, no one really knows who she is." Anna said, and I heard Keith groan. Why would I mind?
"She isn’t a jackass, Anna.. She’s just confused," Keith grumbled.
"Being confused doesn’t give her the right to bully others and call them slurs," Jessica argued. I listened quietly.
"I know, I know! I’ll talk some sense into her," Keith assured them.
"Don’t just talk to her—make him apologize to Noel," Isaac scoffed.
"Why?" I blurted out, covering my mouth immediately. "Sorry…"
"No, it’s okay. You should know," Isaac said flatly. "The girl who bullied you on your first day in the café? That’s Keith’s girlfriend."
"Oh…" That was all I could say.
"I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I really wanted to be your friend, and I was afraid you wouldn’t want that if you knew," Keith admitted.
"What does your girlfriend think?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "About you befriending me?"
"She asked me about it this morning. We’re not exactly on good terms right now after an argument." I nodded. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this revelation—it certainly didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.
"I need to use the restroom. Excuse me," I mumbled before getting up and leaving.
Instead of heading to the bathroom, I just walked. My mind was spinning. The friend I trusted was dating the same girl who had nearly beaten me to death yesterday. I kept walking, my cane guiding me as the sounds around me faded. When the voices disappeared entirely, I stopped and turned my head, trying to get a sense of where I was.
The sun burned my skin as I stepped outside. The grass beneath my feet told me I was in some kind of field.
I wandered until my cane hit something solid—a bench. I reached out to confirm and sat down, leaning back and closing my eyes. The dream from last night flashed through my mind.
Who was this person? Were they the light I’d been searching for? Were they even real, or just a figment of my blind imagination? Why didn’t they speak? Were they mute? Deaf? What was their deal?
I felt someone’s presence before they sat beside me. I sat up straight.
"Is that you? The person who always shows up when I’m alone but refuses to use their voice?" I asked. As expected, no reply.
"Are you deaf?" I asked politely. Idiot! How would they hear me if they were deaf?
A hand touched mine. I turned in their direction.
"So, you’re not deaf. Are you mute?" Silence.
"So, you are mute?" I asked again. Then I heard someone clear their throat—a male.
"So, you’re not deaf and not mute, yet you still won’t talk to me? Excellent!" I huffed. No response, but he gently stroked my hand with his thumb.
"Are you even real, or is my mind playing tricks on me?" His grip tightened slightly.
"Okay, so you’re NOT an illusion," I muttered. "Are you scared of something?"
Still no answer.
"Oh, for heaven’s sake! Please, just say something! I’m dying to know who you are," I pleaded in frustration. A quiet chuckle reached my ears.
Wait. I knew that chuckle. I had heard it before. But where?
"I know you! I’ve heard you laugh before—I just can’t remember where," I said, but he didn’t respond. He continued stroking my hand, his touch strangely comforting.
"So, are you just going to sit here and stroke my hand all day?" I sighed. "Well, I had a dream about you last night."
I felt his grip tighten.
"Before you ask how I can dream when I’m blind—I wasn’t born this way. I lost my sight when I was two in an accident, so yes, I can dream."
He remained quiet, but I knew he was listening.
"I dreamt of a ball of light and heard your phone’s ringtone. When the light came near me, it felt just like your touch." I paused. "Are you real? Because no one’s ever been this gentle with me."
I turned toward where I thought he sat. A hand cupped the back of my neck, and he pulled me in. Then, a kiss—soft and warm—landed on my forehead. He pulled away, leaving me blushing and speechless.
The bell rang. I tried to stand, but he gently pulled me back.
"I have to go—I have class," I said, but he still didn’t let me go. I sighed and sat back down.
"You know, my literature teacher is going to be annoyed if I’m late," I rambled. "He’s my favorite teacher—he understands me. He offers to help, but not out of sympathy, just genuine kindness."
I smiled to myself. "His voice is hot, too. Damn, that accent."
I felt my mystery companion chuckle again. I grinned.
"I bet your voice is hot too, but I wouldn’t know because you never talk," I teased, hoping to coax a response from him. Nothing.
Instead, he took my hand and pulled me up.
"And where are we going now?" I asked, but as always, he didn’t answer.
I sighed. "Fine. Just take me to the lockers."
He led me there, and by the silence, I could tell the hallways were empty.
"Thank you," I said, retrieving my things. But when I turned, he was gone. I shrugged and made my way to class, preparing for whatever scolding awaited me.
"Sorry I’m late," I said upon entering.
"It’s fine. Take your seat," my professor responded.
The rest of the day was uneventful, but one thought lingered in my mind: Who was he?