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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Personal Growth / Achievement
- Published: 11/02/2022
Only the blind can see.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States.jpeg)
She was in her Senior Year of High School. He was headed to the Army. They sat quietly in the front of his Dad’s car. They held hands. They talked. They hugged each other fiercely. There was no thought of sex. Just fear of losing their love do to the coming year. A year where long letters, short phone calls, and a few pictures filled in for the day to day communication they used to have.
Her Social Life consisted of sitting at home…alone. His consisted of the eight guys in his Squad. So he wrote a letter. A long, loving, caring letter.
She read it and cried. She showed it to her Mom. She cried. She showed it to her best friend. She cried. She wrote him a “Thank you” and a “you can trust me letter” back. And he cried.
Her Social Life grew. She went to the Christmas Dance. She celebrated New Years with a Kiss. She went to the Spring Formal and the Prom. She sent him pictures of them all. She wrote about the boys that took her…and her feelings about them. Some making him laugh. Others…making him glad she was who she was. Still others…well, he didn’t dwell on those. She was young, pretty, healthy…and a girl. And smart. He held onto that.
His Social Life consisted of cold meals in parts of the world he had only read about in the Bible…or in History Class. He had one goal every day…survive. He had stories to tell, and no one to tell them too. The people he loved would be worried to death if the told them what was going on where he was. The Brass would have had to redact any of the action scenes, or locations. So he wrote about the stars up in the cold mountain valleys, devoid of any air pollution. Or the sand that seemed to work its way into even the MRE’s that were his main meals when out in the Field. And he was in the Field…a lot.
She Graduated from High School and sent him those pictures too. He sent her the keys and the title to the very car they sat in the night before he shipped out. His Dad acted as the “Power of Attorney” and drove her to the bank to get the Title put in her name. She knew he loved that car almost as much as he loved her. It was a part of him in a way. So she loved the car too. She kept it "showroom ready” and learned how to keep all the fluids up, when to get an oil change, and a tune up.
She sent him pictures of her…and the car…as she drove it Cross Country. All the way from their small hometown in Upstate New York, to just outside of Seattle, Washington - where she would go to College. She took a three week foray down to Big Sur in California, and a stops in San Francisco, Santa Barbara, and LA along the way. He wondered who took the pictures of her. She looked wonderful.
He got sent to a Special Operations School…and then went back to a different country. He sent her a few pictures. One of a him and his buddies in a small town. All of them standing next to a Market Square that had not changed much (except for Motor Scooters) in over a thousand years. He told her that many of the places he had visited were still living in the Sixth Century. He sent her a picture of a Valley that took her breath away. She laughed when he wrote to her:
“You would love how pretty this place is, but you would hate standing in mud, while your upper body is blasted by sand, and your whole body is frozen.”
She got his final letter. She learned that he had been hurt…bad. The letter wasn’t from him. It was from his Mother. She cried knowing he was hurt so bad he couldn’t write. His Mother said he might not even come back to the Stated for a few months because his condition made it safer for him to stay in the Hospital in Germany. She vowed to write more often. And she did.
He made it to Walter Reed. He hadn’t written a letter to her in over four months. Four months. He asked one of the Nurses to write for him. And send a picture along too. The Nurse cried at the obvious love and kindness with which he “wrote” his girlfriend. All the Nurses would cry when they read the return letters to him…and told him what was in the pictures. He would thank them quietly. The Photos he would hold in his hand - he couldn’t see them, but he knew she was in them. That was enough.
She finally got to see him. Almost exactly two years after he got hurt. Two long years. In those two years, she had graduated, explored her sexuality and found a career. In those two years, he had learned to walk…again. How to talk…again. And how to use a cane. For he would never see again. His hands went to her face…and gently discovered how she had grown…and rediscovered how pretty she was. He felt the tears fall from her eyes. They weren’t from pity…no those tears were because he couldn’t see how happy she was that he was alive. She told him that.
He thanked her. He told her he didn’t need any pity. He was alive. He was able to move around on his own. And he was learning to be independent. She listened as he talked. Her ears felt the sound of growth in his voice. Between his hands, and her ears, they both discovered a depth that would have been missed any earlier in their relationship.
He made her laugh when they watched a movie that first night she visited at Walter Reed. He told her the Movie needed subtitles. That made her giggle. She asked him why when he couldn’t see the subtitles anyway. He made her laugh out loud when he replied:
“I know, but at least then I wouldn’t have to listen to this crappy dialog.”
He never asked…so she told them on one their walks that was part of his rehab. He would tap his cane and learn his surroundings out in the real world. Away from the safe memorized paths around the Hospital Grounds. The question he never asked …she answered in a park just a few hundred yards from the Hospital Parking lot.
“I am not a Virgin anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”
His answer said it all:
“Well then, you are going to have to teach me. I am a Rookie at this stuff.”
Her tears were the grateful kind. She might only be in her twenties, but she knew what a real man was.
He made her laugh a few nights later, in one of the Rooms provided for wounded Vets to spend time with their lovers or spouses. She asked him what he wanted her to wear to make that first time special.
He said: “I think your birthday suit would be just fine.”
And it was.
She went back to college. He went back to rehab. He got a job. A real job. He called her on his first day on the job.
“Hey, guess where I am?”
She had no idea.
“At work!”
Two words. No adjectives. No information. Just “At Work”. It was enough to make her heart soar. She yelled with excitement (which caused everyone at her work to turn and stare…she didn’t care). “At work! Where? Doing what? You didn’t tell me you applied for any jobs.”
Her Supervisor listened in outside the cubicle for the first few energetic minutes of that conversation. Then she tapped the young woman on the shoulder and mouthed :
“Take as long as you need. I will cover for you.”
A shiny eyed look of “thank you” acknowledged the Supervisors kindness (and perception). She went right back to listening. She learned how he found out he could hear pretty good…and his old piano and guitar lessons turned out to be the key. He was now the assistant Sound Engineer to the Washington Philharmonic Orchestra. She could barely contain her emotions as he went onto explain because Orchestra’s have so many instruments …most Sound Engineers pass on the job. It is much easer (he told her) to focus on just a few tracks like for a Band, or Rock Group. The pay wasn’t great, but adequate…and he assured her that there was room for promotions. Plus…he added: “Don’t forget I get my Disability Check from the Service.”
He mailed her the fist Album he did…all on his own. It was the Christmas “Pops” Concert. He did the sound for both the Live Performance and the Studio Album. It earned him a couple of Awards. She listened to them both. He had a break after all the Holiday Concerts…and would she like him to fly out to Seattle for a visit?
“Yes.”
She asked him how the flight went. He made her laugh when he unfolded his Red and White cane and showed it to her:
“You have got to get one of these things. You’d be surprised at how kind people are to you. I had folks waiting on me like I hadn’t seen since my Mom took care of me when I was four years old. I even had one old guy bump me up to Fist Class. And a Lady with two teenage sons, made them get my bags from baggage claim…and then she made me get in her Van with her and her sons. They drove me here to your place. He tapped the cane again…these are Magic Wands!”
All her friend were in a frenzy to meet him. She put it off for the first few days. She wanted him all to herself. She wanted to show him her Seattle. She did.
All was going well.
Until.
Allen…a “friend” and co worker…decided to try and ruin it all. He stopped them both as they came out of the Seattle Market. Allen was a bit miffed that he wouldn’t be sharing her bed for the two weeks the blind guy was staying at her place.
“So this is the blind guy you have known since High School? Why’s his face all torn up?”"
She was blinded by the fury she felt in her voice. Then, just when she thought Allen couldn’t be any more of a selfish lout, he spoke up again:
“When’s he going back East…I am getting horny.”
She froze. In that moment she realized how truly selfish she had been. How blind. She would have given anything to have a chance to explain. She didn’t have to. For the man that came flew across the country to see her…spoke first.
“Wow, I always wondered what an asshole would say if it could talk…now, well, I know.”
She stood back in awe, as Allen grabbed the blind mans arm…which, as it turned out, was his second mistake. His first mistake was thinking that because the other guy was blind…he had the advantage. He looked up from the ground as he grunted with pain.
“You broke my arm! I think you broke my nose too.”
In a voice filled with command…and certainty…she listened to what the man she knew she loved said. She heard the iron in his word…and the story behind those words.
“To bad, buddy. You should have thought about what you say in front of a Lady. And what the heck did you think I did in the Army…kiss people?”
He took out his cane and unfolded it so the gathering crowd could see it. Allen was lucky the crowd didn’t beat him to death. You could almost hear their minds out loud:
“Attacking a blind guy? What kind of animal are you!”
Allen hobbled away. She never saw him again.
Later, she sat on her couch and tried to apologize. He stunned her with how much he “saw.”
“Listen honey, I knew when I got to your apartment you had a …a…roommate. (She smiled at how he made it sound so delicate) I could smell his clothes…I could smell his scent on the couch and bed. I knew those weren’t your slippers under the bed either. I just figures some folks use a comforter, others a Afghan, some use a robe, well you used a bed warmer.”
That night they made love. It was her first time. And way better then sex. The most intimate hug she had ever had. They were both young and healthy…so sleep got delayed a second time. When they did finally get out of bed…she made a breakfast that would have fed most of his old Squad. They ate it all.
He never went back to DC. A few phone calls. A few References. A few Connections…and he was now the Chief Sound Engineer for a West Coast Orchestra. She never went back to her old job…or Allen. It turns out her attention to detail and Copy Editing Skills were needed by the Orchestra too. You wouldn’t believe the amount of correspondence Orchestra’s need for both Business and Logistical operations. They became known as: “The Team.”
She loved telling him what Members of the Orchestra would say about him. She would repeat their phrases with glee.
“Him? He sees everything. Never misses anything. Don’t even think about him not noticing. Just do it right and you will be fine.”
He would laugh. She would laugh when he would say back to her:
“Don’t they know how well I can hear?”
Only the blind can see.(Kevin Hughes)
She was in her Senior Year of High School. He was headed to the Army. They sat quietly in the front of his Dad’s car. They held hands. They talked. They hugged each other fiercely. There was no thought of sex. Just fear of losing their love do to the coming year. A year where long letters, short phone calls, and a few pictures filled in for the day to day communication they used to have.
Her Social Life consisted of sitting at home…alone. His consisted of the eight guys in his Squad. So he wrote a letter. A long, loving, caring letter.
She read it and cried. She showed it to her Mom. She cried. She showed it to her best friend. She cried. She wrote him a “Thank you” and a “you can trust me letter” back. And he cried.
Her Social Life grew. She went to the Christmas Dance. She celebrated New Years with a Kiss. She went to the Spring Formal and the Prom. She sent him pictures of them all. She wrote about the boys that took her…and her feelings about them. Some making him laugh. Others…making him glad she was who she was. Still others…well, he didn’t dwell on those. She was young, pretty, healthy…and a girl. And smart. He held onto that.
His Social Life consisted of cold meals in parts of the world he had only read about in the Bible…or in History Class. He had one goal every day…survive. He had stories to tell, and no one to tell them too. The people he loved would be worried to death if the told them what was going on where he was. The Brass would have had to redact any of the action scenes, or locations. So he wrote about the stars up in the cold mountain valleys, devoid of any air pollution. Or the sand that seemed to work its way into even the MRE’s that were his main meals when out in the Field. And he was in the Field…a lot.
She Graduated from High School and sent him those pictures too. He sent her the keys and the title to the very car they sat in the night before he shipped out. His Dad acted as the “Power of Attorney” and drove her to the bank to get the Title put in her name. She knew he loved that car almost as much as he loved her. It was a part of him in a way. So she loved the car too. She kept it "showroom ready” and learned how to keep all the fluids up, when to get an oil change, and a tune up.
She sent him pictures of her…and the car…as she drove it Cross Country. All the way from their small hometown in Upstate New York, to just outside of Seattle, Washington - where she would go to College. She took a three week foray down to Big Sur in California, and a stops in San Francisco, Santa Barbara, and LA along the way. He wondered who took the pictures of her. She looked wonderful.
He got sent to a Special Operations School…and then went back to a different country. He sent her a few pictures. One of a him and his buddies in a small town. All of them standing next to a Market Square that had not changed much (except for Motor Scooters) in over a thousand years. He told her that many of the places he had visited were still living in the Sixth Century. He sent her a picture of a Valley that took her breath away. She laughed when he wrote to her:
“You would love how pretty this place is, but you would hate standing in mud, while your upper body is blasted by sand, and your whole body is frozen.”
She got his final letter. She learned that he had been hurt…bad. The letter wasn’t from him. It was from his Mother. She cried knowing he was hurt so bad he couldn’t write. His Mother said he might not even come back to the Stated for a few months because his condition made it safer for him to stay in the Hospital in Germany. She vowed to write more often. And she did.
He made it to Walter Reed. He hadn’t written a letter to her in over four months. Four months. He asked one of the Nurses to write for him. And send a picture along too. The Nurse cried at the obvious love and kindness with which he “wrote” his girlfriend. All the Nurses would cry when they read the return letters to him…and told him what was in the pictures. He would thank them quietly. The Photos he would hold in his hand - he couldn’t see them, but he knew she was in them. That was enough.
She finally got to see him. Almost exactly two years after he got hurt. Two long years. In those two years, she had graduated, explored her sexuality and found a career. In those two years, he had learned to walk…again. How to talk…again. And how to use a cane. For he would never see again. His hands went to her face…and gently discovered how she had grown…and rediscovered how pretty she was. He felt the tears fall from her eyes. They weren’t from pity…no those tears were because he couldn’t see how happy she was that he was alive. She told him that.
He thanked her. He told her he didn’t need any pity. He was alive. He was able to move around on his own. And he was learning to be independent. She listened as he talked. Her ears felt the sound of growth in his voice. Between his hands, and her ears, they both discovered a depth that would have been missed any earlier in their relationship.
He made her laugh when they watched a movie that first night she visited at Walter Reed. He told her the Movie needed subtitles. That made her giggle. She asked him why when he couldn’t see the subtitles anyway. He made her laugh out loud when he replied:
“I know, but at least then I wouldn’t have to listen to this crappy dialog.”
He never asked…so she told them on one their walks that was part of his rehab. He would tap his cane and learn his surroundings out in the real world. Away from the safe memorized paths around the Hospital Grounds. The question he never asked …she answered in a park just a few hundred yards from the Hospital Parking lot.
“I am not a Virgin anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”
His answer said it all:
“Well then, you are going to have to teach me. I am a Rookie at this stuff.”
Her tears were the grateful kind. She might only be in her twenties, but she knew what a real man was.
He made her laugh a few nights later, in one of the Rooms provided for wounded Vets to spend time with their lovers or spouses. She asked him what he wanted her to wear to make that first time special.
He said: “I think your birthday suit would be just fine.”
And it was.
She went back to college. He went back to rehab. He got a job. A real job. He called her on his first day on the job.
“Hey, guess where I am?”
She had no idea.
“At work!”
Two words. No adjectives. No information. Just “At Work”. It was enough to make her heart soar. She yelled with excitement (which caused everyone at her work to turn and stare…she didn’t care). “At work! Where? Doing what? You didn’t tell me you applied for any jobs.”
Her Supervisor listened in outside the cubicle for the first few energetic minutes of that conversation. Then she tapped the young woman on the shoulder and mouthed :
“Take as long as you need. I will cover for you.”
A shiny eyed look of “thank you” acknowledged the Supervisors kindness (and perception). She went right back to listening. She learned how he found out he could hear pretty good…and his old piano and guitar lessons turned out to be the key. He was now the assistant Sound Engineer to the Washington Philharmonic Orchestra. She could barely contain her emotions as he went onto explain because Orchestra’s have so many instruments …most Sound Engineers pass on the job. It is much easer (he told her) to focus on just a few tracks like for a Band, or Rock Group. The pay wasn’t great, but adequate…and he assured her that there was room for promotions. Plus…he added: “Don’t forget I get my Disability Check from the Service.”
He mailed her the fist Album he did…all on his own. It was the Christmas “Pops” Concert. He did the sound for both the Live Performance and the Studio Album. It earned him a couple of Awards. She listened to them both. He had a break after all the Holiday Concerts…and would she like him to fly out to Seattle for a visit?
“Yes.”
She asked him how the flight went. He made her laugh when he unfolded his Red and White cane and showed it to her:
“You have got to get one of these things. You’d be surprised at how kind people are to you. I had folks waiting on me like I hadn’t seen since my Mom took care of me when I was four years old. I even had one old guy bump me up to Fist Class. And a Lady with two teenage sons, made them get my bags from baggage claim…and then she made me get in her Van with her and her sons. They drove me here to your place. He tapped the cane again…these are Magic Wands!”
All her friend were in a frenzy to meet him. She put it off for the first few days. She wanted him all to herself. She wanted to show him her Seattle. She did.
All was going well.
Until.
Allen…a “friend” and co worker…decided to try and ruin it all. He stopped them both as they came out of the Seattle Market. Allen was a bit miffed that he wouldn’t be sharing her bed for the two weeks the blind guy was staying at her place.
“So this is the blind guy you have known since High School? Why’s his face all torn up?”"
She was blinded by the fury she felt in her voice. Then, just when she thought Allen couldn’t be any more of a selfish lout, he spoke up again:
“When’s he going back East…I am getting horny.”
She froze. In that moment she realized how truly selfish she had been. How blind. She would have given anything to have a chance to explain. She didn’t have to. For the man that came flew across the country to see her…spoke first.
“Wow, I always wondered what an asshole would say if it could talk…now, well, I know.”
She stood back in awe, as Allen grabbed the blind mans arm…which, as it turned out, was his second mistake. His first mistake was thinking that because the other guy was blind…he had the advantage. He looked up from the ground as he grunted with pain.
“You broke my arm! I think you broke my nose too.”
In a voice filled with command…and certainty…she listened to what the man she knew she loved said. She heard the iron in his word…and the story behind those words.
“To bad, buddy. You should have thought about what you say in front of a Lady. And what the heck did you think I did in the Army…kiss people?”
He took out his cane and unfolded it so the gathering crowd could see it. Allen was lucky the crowd didn’t beat him to death. You could almost hear their minds out loud:
“Attacking a blind guy? What kind of animal are you!”
Allen hobbled away. She never saw him again.
Later, she sat on her couch and tried to apologize. He stunned her with how much he “saw.”
“Listen honey, I knew when I got to your apartment you had a …a…roommate. (She smiled at how he made it sound so delicate) I could smell his clothes…I could smell his scent on the couch and bed. I knew those weren’t your slippers under the bed either. I just figures some folks use a comforter, others a Afghan, some use a robe, well you used a bed warmer.”
That night they made love. It was her first time. And way better then sex. The most intimate hug she had ever had. They were both young and healthy…so sleep got delayed a second time. When they did finally get out of bed…she made a breakfast that would have fed most of his old Squad. They ate it all.
He never went back to DC. A few phone calls. A few References. A few Connections…and he was now the Chief Sound Engineer for a West Coast Orchestra. She never went back to her old job…or Allen. It turns out her attention to detail and Copy Editing Skills were needed by the Orchestra too. You wouldn’t believe the amount of correspondence Orchestra’s need for both Business and Logistical operations. They became known as: “The Team.”
She loved telling him what Members of the Orchestra would say about him. She would repeat their phrases with glee.
“Him? He sees everything. Never misses anything. Don’t even think about him not noticing. Just do it right and you will be fine.”
He would laugh. She would laugh when he would say back to her:
“Don’t they know how well I can hear?”
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Gerald R Gioglio
11/09/2022Another enjoyable piece, Kevin. "War,war... What is it good for? Absolutely nothing."
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Kevin Hughes
11/10/2022Hey Gerald,
I loved that song when it came out. We used to chant it in Formation when I was in the Army. The grunts loved it, the Officers...not so much. LOL
Thanks for the constant support. Smiles, Kevin
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Shirley Smothers
11/09/2022What a beautiful love story. It is well written and detailed. I could actually see what he heard. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Kevin Hughes
11/10/2022Thank you, Shirley! I loved your sentence: "I could actually see what he heard." Marvelous!
Smiles, Kevin
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Valerie Allen
11/09/2022Another enjoyable read. Love is not enough. There has to be trust and forgiveness. Life goes on, things change, and we have to be ready for a reality check to figure out where we stand and what will make us happy. You did a good job on all points. Thanks ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Kevin Hughes
11/09/2022Aloha Valerie,
Your comment is full of hard earned wisdom...things change, and trust and forgiveness can help us navigate those changes. Thanks for the support.
Smiles, Kevin
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Lillian Kazmierczak
11/08/2022Kevi, I absolutely loved this! What a patient and loving man who understood what a treasure she was. Sometimes you just know when it is right! Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Kevin Hughes
11/09/2022Aloha Lillian,
Thanks so much for the support and kind words. I am lucky enough to know people who inspire these kinds of story. Smiles, Kevin
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Shelly Garrod
11/04/2022This is such a beautiful love story. It's sad that many people live this life of separation. One left home while one serves. Life does carry on but only true love will sustain anything that may arise as your story has proven. Loved the read Kevin. Well done.
Shelly
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Kevin Hughes
11/04/2022Thanks Shelly,
Sadly, the True Life version of this Fictional Story is all to real. Thousands of folks are going through this right now as they serve their Countries...and some of them aren't ever coming home. But Love can do miracles. It always has, and it always will...they just don't get the Press that Disasters get.
Smiles, Kevin
COMMENTS (8)