The blind shall lead.(Kevin Hughes) “Maybe I was wrong to run away. What an idiot. Over a girl.”

Those are the thoughts that kept spinning on the carousel of doubt in my head. Sure we had been “dating” since sixth grade, got “serious” the Summer before HS, and got engaged Christmas of our Junior year.

When you are only seventeen years old, and have been with the same girl since you were ten years old…well that is almost half your life’s memories. Like many a romantic partner…I didn’t see it coming.

The Christmas Dance was just two weeks away. I forgot to get tickets. I ran up to her at lunch and said:

“Oh, geez Honey, I forgot about the tickets. I will run get them now.”

Something in the way she looked at me made me plop right down. I sat across from her at the Cafeteria Table. I remember her best friend Heather was sitting too close to her - which always signaled (at least to me) that something was going on.

“What?”

Was all I said. I knew her well enough to know she wanted to say something…but was scared to say it.

“I …I…don’t need tickets for the Dance. I…I…have a date.”

My mind simply stood stock still. It had no way to decipher her words. Christmas was just a few weeks away. I had a gift already ready for her. I guess when your brain refuses to work, you say stupid things. So I did.

“A date?”

She nodded. Her best friend got even closer, as if she could support her with sure will.

The silence dragged on. My brain finally wiggled out from under the bad news. I was surprised at my own calmness. I mean I was watching my future crumble under the power of just one date.

“With whom?”

This time, it was my girl who leaned into her best friend. Had I not been focused so much on listening I might have missed the name she whispered out.

“Steve.”

My brain stumbled again. Like it had fallen off a curb, sliding on the street leaving little burns on the palms of its thoughts.

“Steve…my best friend Steve?”

She couldn’t answer. Tears were running down both her and Heather’s faces in little rivulets.

The silence was longer. My mind woke up, put the pieces of the last several weeks together. It wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out Steve and my girl had been secretly meeting since my birthday back in September.

Have you ever seen what betrayal does to Trust? It shatters it into powder. A powder so fine it can’t ever be gathered back up into forgiveness.

I had no clue that the whole Cafeteria had gone silent. Nor did I notice that Steve had quietly snuck into a corner of the Cafeteria to see how I handled it. I guess he thought he would “man up” after she broke up with me…and apologize for falling in love with my girl.

I never gave him the chance.

I reached up and unbuttoned my shirt. Underneath lay the half a heart with a diamond in it. She had given it to me for my fourteenth birthday. I had never taken it off…not even to shower. I snapped the slender gold chain with ease.

It spilled from my fist onto the table like a snake slithering away from something too close for comfort. The diamond sparkled under the sunlight coming through the skylight.

My voice was calm. Sterile. Devoid of any emotion at all. I had heard, even read of a person’s voice being: “Cold, hard, and final.” Mine was all three.

“You can keep the ring." (pointing to my engagement ring, still on her finger). "You can keep that too." (Pointing to the necklace that until a few minutes ago, was the thing that kept my heart beating).

A part of me must have taken in the whole scene without my knowledge. Because I stood up and pointed to Steve- who was not quite hiding in the corner, but surely didn’t want to be noticed.

“You can keep him too. I am through. I wish you both good luck. And… goodbye.”

I don’t remember walking out of the Cafeteria. I do remember the sound of her voice as she hoarsely yelled after me:

“I am so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I…”

Her words meant nothing to me now…so I stopped listening.

It was over. Christmas was a blur of self pity, loneliness, and staggering loss.

School started in just five more days. No way was I going back to that School. I had no desire to see young love grow…knowing it would. Steve was a good guy. She was a good girl. I was the odd man out.

I did the only thing a broken hearted teenager could do. I left school. That school. I moved across the State Line to Pennsylvania- a mere seventy miles away from my old School in Ohio. But a lifetime away from my Life. I may as well have sailed off to the South Pacific. Nobody knew me. Nobody cared. I was just a new kid. A Senior plopped down in the Middle of the School Year. Outsider. Outcast. Alone. Lost.

I was lost in more ways than one.

And then…

It wasn’t as big a School as my old HS. And it was older. For some reason looking at the outside of the building I was reminded of my Grandma’s old carpet; worn, but welcoming. It just felt like School. The kind of school that brings back fond memories and not stories of bullies. Where Teachers were remembered as friends as well as mentors. It felt…like it would always be a school.

I stood in the junction of four hallways. I had my Class Schedule in my hand. I saw a slender dark haired girl with her back to me, closing up her wall locker.

I headed over to her.

“Excuse me, Miss? Can you tell me where Mrs. Forester’s History Class is?”

I held out my Class Schedule so she could see the Room Number and Mrs. Forester’s name. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see anything. She was blind. I saw the dark glasses …and the cane. But too late.

I went to pull my hand back…but she had already reached out to grab the paper in my hand. She took it, ran her fingers gently over the paper in a smooth subtle caress. Then she laughed.

“Sorry, it isn’t in brail. You are going to have to read it to me.”

Then she laughed.

“I know, how did I know how to reach for your hand, if I can’t see? How did I know the paper was in your left hand?”

I blurted out:

“Well, yeah.”

She laughed again, as she handed the paper back to me.

“You sighted people are all alike. You think because we are blind, we can’t see.”

“Er…what?”

She laughed again. Not at me, but with me. It made me smile.

“It’s not magic. Most folks are right handed. You were lost. You had the schedule in your hand because you were reading it, as you tried to figure out where to go. Am I right?”

I nodded. Then remembered she was blind.

“That’s right.”

She laughed again.

"So you are on my left, meaning if you were holding something to read, it would be in your left hand, because right handed people keep their right hand free in case they need it for something else. Which means your left hand was holding the paper out. So I just guessed your height, and reached for your hand …which would be a little above your waist. And I was right.”

I was stunned. I looked down and sure enough I had been holding the paper in my left hand…not my right hand. And my left hand was just where she said it would be.

“How did you know to reach up a little?”

She laughed again.

“Silly boy. I can hear. Your voice is coming from above. I am five foot eight. So you have to be over six foot. That means your arm parallel to the ground would be about six inches above my waist. So that is where I put my hand. Once I felt the brush of the paper against my finger tips…I knew just where your hand was.”

I was dumbfounded. So I spoke without thinking.

“You have to be the smartest person I have ever met.”

She might be blind, but I wasn’t. I saw her blush fiercely.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

This time I laughed.

“No. Just you. And in case you are wondering, I have never said those words to a guy either. You are the smartest person I have ever met.”

This time she giggled. I could hear the pleasure in her tone. She was pleased. So was I.

“So…do you know where I can find this mysterious Mrs. Forester?”

She laughed. She put her cane in her other hand, with her left hand she took my arm, which somehow I offered to her as soon as she started to turn.

“Well, I should hope so. She is my Mother.”

This time we both laughed. We chatted on the way to Class. When we got to the room, it was already packed with students. Every one of them turned to look as the blind girl they knew very well, walked into the Class with a giant six foot five boy with a bewildered look on his face.

Mrs. Forester looked at her daughter, and the towering boy next to her.

“What have you brought me, darling?”

The next words from the blind girl caught me, and everyone else by surprise. The biggest and best surprise of my life. By far.

“My future husband. I found him wandering aimlessly in the Hallway. Without me, he would be lost.”

The whole room broke out in cheers. I could see tears forming on Mrs. Forester’s cheeks. They didn’t fall from her eyes, they just formed on her cheek. Sparkling with joy as she heard the certainty in her daughter’s voice.

“Is that so?”

It was my voice that caught me off guard - but I knew it was the truth.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

The blind girl squeezed my forearm. The whole Class surrounded us. Guys I never met pounded me on the back. More than a few whispered in my ear:

“You ever hurt her…and we will find you.”

It was more than a pledge , it was a vow. You could hear it in their voices. A blind person could see it. My voice was filled with the same level of meaning when I whisper back.

“She will always be safe with me.”

That night, the blind girl was holding my left forearm - as she always did when we walked together. The cane moving in slow arcs in front of her.

“You sure?”

She laughed.

“Of course. You need moral support.”

I patted her hand on my arm.

I Knocked.

Steve and my old girl opened the door. I saw the looks on their faces. Too many emotions to count- were vying for a place to perch on their cheeks.

I spoke first:

“I owe you both an apology and my thanks. Can we come in?”

They both stepped back without saying a word. The blind girl squeezed my arm, and gave my old flame and my best friend a blazing smile. A few minutes later and they had both figured out what I already knew.

The blind girl was the smartest person they had ever met…and the kindest.

I knew it was going to be alright.

And it was.

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