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Blind Date

Melanie poured herself a stiff drink then slumped disconsolately into her armchair. 'Bugger' she said aloud. Taking a large swig she began raking over her first and last date with Jackson Jones. He’d been pleasant enough, a good humoured soul who’d even made her laugh. But she knew as soon as she’d heard his first ‘oh hello‘ that he was shocked. He covered it better than most of her dates but it was unmistakeably there.

She heard her front door open ‘Cooee Melanie it’s only me love how did it go?’

‘Same as it always does Aunty June’ she said sounding miserable ‘pleasant enough but “I’ll give you a ring sometime” was all I got at the end.’

Aunt June scratched her unworldly greying head in exasperation. A decent woman in her early fifties she was desperate to help her twenty four year old niece find a suitable young man. Oh dear she thought a deep sense of disappointment taking hold of her. ‘I don’t understand it’ she mused ‘you’re as pretty as a picture, your figure is great and as for your legs; wow!’

‘Aunty June I'm blind. No one wants to go out with me they see me as some sort of liability’ she sniffled and blew her nose ‘I suppose I’ll just have to get used to the idea I’ll always be on my own.’

June felt an ache sweep over her heart like a wave crashing onto rocks. She had arranged this date through an agency. ‘Didn't you tell him when you spoke on the phone last night dear?’

‘Of course I didn’t’ said Melanie irritated ‘if I tell a bloke before I meet him he usually puts me off straight away or, worse still, stands me up. Her unseeing eyes brimmed with tears she felt on the verge of despair ‘no matter how pretty I may or may not be nobody wants to date a blind girl.’

A month passed before Aunt June raised the subject of boys again this time about a really special boy. Melanie cut her off abruptly ‘I don’t want to know Aunty June it’ll end like all the others. Leave it, please, just leave it.’

‘Yes but......’

‘No! Melanie barked ‘and that’s final.’

June felt a piercing hurt in her breast but held her peace. Over coffee they chatted about mutual friends, the weather and other things but avoided mentioning men. Just before she left June said ‘It’s not like you to give up Melanie. When your mum died and you moved in here on your own everyone expected you to fail. You didn’t.’

Melanie sighed June was right about that. How’s she going to cope without her mum? was the question well meaning friends had asked each other. Without her mother caring for her she’ll be unable to cope seemed to be the general consensus. Well they were all wrong she thought defiantly. Totally bloody wrong.

On leaving June turned in the doorway weighed down with guilt ‘look, I'm sorry Melanie but I gave him, Peter that is, your number....... he may not ring though....he’s very shy.....the thing is....’

‘Oh good god June’ Melanie almost exploded with frustration. She omitted the Aunty title to show her annoyance ‘and I suppose you told him I was a poor hapless little blind girl who was desperate for company? I’ll bloody well send him packing if he rings, so there!’

‘No. Oh dear, no Melanie I didn’t tell...’ June choked, unable to continue. Bursting into tears she turned and fled her niece's hostility.

Melanie felt bad about shouting at dear Aunty June who was, after all, only trying to help her. She would ring her later and apologise. If she rang now she knew they’d both end in floods of tears. She felt lower than at any time she could remember.

Peter rang and to her surprise she was immediately taken by his gentle melodic Scottish Hebridean accent. His voice had a soft musical lilt that made her want to listen forever. He told her he was twenty seven, from Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis that he sang in a choir and loved animals. His crystal clear voice sounded like an angel singing in her ear. She felt her heart beating faster but, with an effort, held herself in check. Too many times her hopes had been dashed. Intrigued though she was she kept the call brief. They agreed to meet outside McDonalds the next day. ‘And only for coffee OK?’ she had said emphatically.

Melanie woke early next day feeling excited in spite of herself. She showered then dressed with extra care wanting to look her best for him this man with the golden voice. Just before she left she knelt and said a little prayer ‘Please lord help me’ she pleaded a desperate longing flooding her every fibre ‘since mum died you know how lonely I've been. Just for once, Lord, let me find some happiness.’

She got off the number thirty two bus in the town square and made her way to the crossing. She waited for the beeping signal then crossed. In her head she counted the steps walking briskly, confidently, sweeping her white cane rapidly before her. It was her way of telling the world I don’t need your help or your pity thank you. Seventy two paces to the precinct turn right mind the rubbish bin at fifty eight paces. Carry on for another one hundred and four and bingo she was there.

The balled tip of her cane lightly touched a shoe her heightened hearing detecting a slight nervous intake of breath. ‘Are you Peter?’ she asked.

‘Yes and you'll be Melanie?

Yes, shall we go in Peter?

'Sure, c'mon Jess.'

Who's Jess? asked Melanie suspiciously.

Why can't you see? She's my guide dog.

Copyright © J A Milligan
 

 
Copyright © J A Milligan
Written by blocat
Published | Edited 25th Nov 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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