Blind love english, p.1
Blind Love: English, page 1
Copyright © 2014 by Rose B. Mashal
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
About the Author
"Roses are red, the sky is blue; so everyone says, but I wouldn't know."
A story about a popular rock star falling for his biggest fan.
And an insecure girl learning a new life lesson about love and trust.
To Jennifer Reeves, with my whole heart.
I couldn't see.
There was darkness everywhere I looked, every time I looked. Darkness everywhere. There was no light. Not even a glimpse of light. None. There was none. Opening my eyes was just the same as closing them tightly shut. Either made me see the same thing: darkness.
I couldn't use my eyes, so I abused the heck out of my ears. I loved music, more than I could say. It was my passion. Listening to music was the only thing that kept me going. I lived through it, in it. It surrounded me. Consumed me. Filled me with ease and comfort.
What they say about music is true – one song could make you forget everything, and one song could make you remember everything. I chose to listen to songs that made me forget. It was much better that way. Forgetting things was better than remembering them. The right choice of a nice song that lasted for four minutes would ease the pain I'd felt for four hours, pain that I'd always blocked out as much as I could.
I relaxed my eyelids by closing them, throwing my head back while facing the sky and swaying to the music, feeling the bliss of soft tunes and the delight of the tender melodies filling my every sense. Joy. Pure joy and untainted happiness.
"Dude!" my sister and best friend called over the loud music. "I don't want to freak you out, but – Ethan fucking Thompson keeps glancing at you."
I froze in my place. Surely she wasn't being serious? I couldn't believe her. But I could always tell whenever Sandra was bullshitting me, just from hearing her voice. And this time she wasn't doing it, she was being honest. But then again, it couldn't be true. She could be mistaken. Why would the mighty Ethan fucking Thompson look at me or even glance my way? Why me? I was nobody, nothing special, far from it. Surely there were a lot of girls around me, pretty and perfect girls, not someone like me.
I decided that Sandra could be mistaken, of course she was mistaken. He could've just been looking at nothing and it just so happened that his eyes landed on me, nothing else. I was so sure.
"Cool," was my only reply.
It was a nice image to put in my head while swaying to the music, though. To imagine Ethan Thompson – the owner of the sweetest and strongest voice you would ever hear – looking at me and giving me a few seconds of attention, it was a very nice image to add to my list of fantasies that starred him.
The concert was so good, so good it almost hurt. I was enjoying it so much, and so glad that I'd finally gone along with Sandra's pleas that we should attend.
Ethan was the lead singer of the Thompson Brothers band. One of the biggest and most popular bands, not just in America, but in the whole world. Since I was living in Los Angeles, California, concerts were all around us, and there were tons of TB's shows, but I never saw the need to go. I found it odd and unnecessary for me to go there. I could hear his voice and their playing anywhere; why would I bother going to a place where I could easily get lost in the crowd? I'd never found the need to do so.
But, God! How wrong was I! Listening to his voice live was nothing like listening to his CDs. It was magical. Plain and simple. Magic. Something that was out of this world.
I could hear the crowd around me as they cheered his name, while others were cheering for his brothers, Carl and Dominik. Sandra was pretty fond of the latter; he was the band's drummer. Carl was the one who played wonders on the piano. Ethan, on the other hand … Ah, he sang and played the guitar; he was the one who wrote all the songs, as well.
Don't even let me start on the lyrics …
The words of his songs were something else. Each word he sang was as if he was meaning for me to listen to it. The lyrics talked about fighting pain and battling with bad luck. They talked about forgetting and just living, how life was so short and one should live it to the fullest, no matter what stood in their way. They talked about hope and how things would be okay sooner or later, no matter how hard and unfixable they seemed to be.
His songs gave me hope. His voice gave me warmth. His melodies brightened my dark days.
Besides the cheers, I could hear the snaps of photos that came from cellphones, fan-girls screaming and squealing. They were the only things that tainted the joy of hearing Ethan Thompson's singing, but it was a small tax I was willing to pay for listening to his powerful voice as it sang words that went straight to my heart once they passed by my ears.
About two hours and one break later, the boy who could sing like no other asked if any of the fans wanted to come up on the stage. The screams that came in reply to his question were almost deafening. It was crazy, so crazy I had to cover my ears.
I heard Ethan's chuckle, which was music on its own. He then said that he picked the girl with the white shirt, and I heard the crowd laughing, Sandra told me that almost everyone was wearing the same white shirt we were wearing, the band's t-shirt – ours had 'I Love the Thompson Boys' on the front, though. I smiled at that, at the boy I’d found to be such a goofball since I’d come to this concert. He'd kept us entertained throughout the whole thing, not just by his wonderful voice and playing, but also with his playful nature.
"Oh. Em. Gee!" Sandra squealed loudly after a few moments. "Anna, he's pointing at you!"
It took me a moment to take what she’d just said in. Ethan had chosen me to get up on the stage? "No freaking way!" I said. This time the doubt started filling my head with how Sandra must be hallucinating or on something. It was not possible that Ethan Thompson was glancing my way, let alone picking me to get on the freaking stage!
"Oh, my gosh! You need to get up there!" my sister screamed, and just then I realized that I still hadn't replied to her.
"It can't be, Sandra, he must be pointing at someone else, someone behind me or something."
"Anna, there is no time for this, he means you, you have to get up, right the fuck now!"
Ethan called again, and when he said the strawberry-blonde girl, I knew that Sandra wasn't really mistaken when she said he meant me. Surely there were more girls around with the same hair color, but what were the odds of another strawberry-blonde standing behind me, right?
"You go," I said. She was in a white shirt, a strawberry-blonde and she wasn't … uh, she wasn't like me. She was a better choice.
"What? No way! He wants you," she said in a hurry. "C'mon, Anna, the lights are on you!"
"Sandra, I'm not going to get up there, trip and make a fool out of myself in front of two million people!"
"Anyone could trip and fall, c'mon, it happens once in a lifetime, you have to get up there!" she said for the hundredth time.
"Not everyone is blind, Sandra!" I all but screamed. "Just go!"
There was silence from Sandra's side after that, and I knew that she wanted to do what I was suggesting, but she wasn't sure if she should leave me al
It was just another thing my disability took away from me, no big deal.
I wasn't born blind. I was fine, my sight was 20/20 until the age of eleven, but then it started to go downhill as the days passed until it was impossible to see without thick and ugly glasses. I was considered legally blind for a short time before we discovered that I was losing my sight quickly due to a tumor in my brain, one that made me completely blind in no time.
The doctors said that I would get my sight back after they removed the tumor that was pressing on the vision area, but even after that, I couldn't see anything, I was still blind, even after chemo and after all of the time they said it would take for the swelling to go down. And now, ten years later, I was still waiting, but I never lost hope. Well, I did lose hope for some time. But Ethan's songs reminded me of how we should never give up and to always believe in miracles.
But it wasn't so easy to do so. Still, I did. I hoped. I believed.
Sandra had such a good time up there on the stage, I could hear it. She didn't sing with Ethan like he'd offered her; instead, she played the drums with Dominik – of course. You see, Sandra only admired Dominik because he knew how to play, she'd told me once. She said that he wasn't only going with the music or the melody, he always brought life to it. Sandra used to play, as well, when she was younger. She had a band of her own in high school, but sadly, the band didn't make it anywhere far from school, and then there was college and everyone got busy starting a new life. She didn't play anymore other than with pencils on her desktop every now and then.
I was so glad that she was enjoying herself – she deserved it. I loved Sandra dearly, I loved her the most. She was, simply, my everything. And a bit more. But I still couldn't help the feeling I got when I thought about how it would feel if I was the one up there on stage. Well, in another world, not this one. Another world where I would be able to see where I was going, where I would be able to see the sights from up on the stage, and how it would feel to stand there higher than anyone, facing everyone. This world, though, I wouldn't be able to see the stairs or whatever they'd put to get you up there. I would've needed help to find where I was walking on the stage. I would've needed Ethan to hold the microphone up for me or place it in my hand to be able to sing – if I was ever up to that, that is. In this world, the sight from up on stage was the same as the sight from the second row I was currently standing in: complete darkness.
I pushed the pain away and smiled, blinking back tears and hoping that no one was looking at me. Pretended I wasn't scared out of my skin because I was standing alone in a crowded place full of people I didn't know. I decided to just be happy for my sister and her five minutes of joy. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Sandra.
Three weeks later, Dominik Thompson was minutes away from arriving at our house. You could say that Sandra had made quite the impression on him when she was up there on stage. She'd slipped him a card with her phone number. And tonight, he was coming over to have their first date together since going out wasn't a very good idea when you're a celebrity. He wanted them to have some privacy.
"Anna, would you get that, please?" Sandra called when we heard the buzz of the alarm. We lived in a gated community in a two-story house we'd moved in to after our parents passed away in a car accident. We couldn't stay in that old house we were raised in, too many memories. But we didn't sell it, though, only sold Sandra's apartment. The money we’d inherited from the two of my parents, plus what the insurance company paid us, was enough to cover everything we might need for school and college as well as living very comfortably for the rest of our lives. Sandra was twenty-two and I was sixteen when it happened. She was my guardian legally, but for what she'd done for me for the last five years, I liked to think of her as my guardian angel and not just guardian.
"Sure thing," I called back and stood up from the couch I was sitting on in the living room while listening to a TV show where I couldn't keep up with half of the things happening in the episode.
One, two. Arm chair. To the left. One, two, three. Small table. One. Entrance. Another left. One, two, three, four. The foyer. One more step. The door.
I pressed the button and spoke into the intercom, "Hello."
"Yo, Miss Barker."
"Hey, George," I smiled at his inability to call me Anna, no matter how many times I’d told him to do so.
"There is a Dominik Thompson here and he says that the other Miss Barker is expecting him."
I shook my head, not able to believe that Sandra forgot to inform them earlier.
"Yes, George, please let him in," I told him and pressed the button again, disconnecting our call.
"Sandra, it's Dominik," I called and heard a loud thud. "You okay there?" She couldn't have fainted, could she?
"I'm okay," she yelled. "Just tripped."
I shook my head and chuckled; I'd never heard that nervous tone in her voice before. A few moments later I heard the clicking of her sounds-like-very-high heels as she came toward where I was standing in the foyer. "Oooh, someone smells good," I commented.
"Aww! Thank you, Love. You think Dom will like it?"
"Of course, he will!" I smiled. "Don't be nervous, okay? He's the same guy you've been talking to on the phone all night long for the last two weeks."
"Ugh! I know, but still … can't help it."
"You're gonna be fine, hope you have a good night," I said and then called, "Tan! C'mon, girl. Bedtime."
"Whoa!" Sandra exclaimed. "Are you going to bed now? You won't meet Dom?"
"Nuh, maybe another time. I'll write for a while before I go to sleep. You go and have fun," I said, hearing the doorbell the second I finished talking.
"You know I love you, right?" Sandra called as I counted my way to the staircase.
"Love you, too," I called back, patting my fur-baby's head when I felt her jumping up the stairs beside me.
I sighed when I reached my bedroom and closed the door behind me, then made it to the bed to find Tan already making herself comfortable on top of the covers. I was hardly able to pull up said covers, she was such a huge girl.
I sat comfortably on my bed, then reached for my laptop that I'd put on my nightstand earlier today, turning it on and listening to the options before I chose to open a 'New Microsoft Word' then started working on a new story. This one was about a princess falling in love with the farmer's son. Another children’s book of mine. I liked to write about innocent and pure love and how it should always win over any difficulties or disposability, that one should always fight for the one they love no matter what. I wrote about hope and chances. My bestselling book was about a little girl who battled with cancer and won. I didn't write about how the girl had faced blindness since then, though. No one wanted to read about that, I believed.
Writing children’s books was what I did for a living – not that I needed it, but I didn't like to feel completely useless and just stay home not doing anything with my time or myself. I liked the feeling of – normalcy. I always took care of myself and all of my own needs. I dressed myself, showered on my own, never allowed Mom or later Sandra to help me with anything like that. I made my own coffee in the morning and cooked dinner. Tan was my companion on the walks I took every now and then. I cleaned my room and kept the house neat as much as I could. It was a huge thing I was grateful for; that I could be considered an independent woman and not someone who had to ask for help in every little thing.
Sandra was the one who edited my typos whenever I was finished with a new book before sending it to my agent, and I would be forever grateful for her. She was one of the only two I trusted. She took the role of my useless eyes in so many things, like buying my clothes and then telling me the color and what they looke
A few hours and about two thousand words later, I heard footsteps outside of my room. I stopped typing on my keyboard and listened carefully, waiting for Sandra to come in, expecting that I would hear the click of the light when she turned it on to check on me before going to sleep – something she always did. This time, though, the footsteps stopped right on the other side of my door, then I heard a faint ''Shhhh," and it wasn't so hard to understand that Dominik was still here and they'd decided to move their date upstairs, where her bedroom was, right next to mine.
I smiled, shaking my head; Sandra simply never understood how good my hearing was. When I heard her door being closed, I logged off after saving what I’d written so far and got up, making my way to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth before going back to bed and deciding to call it a night. I put a pillow over my head to muffle the outside noises that I knew for sure would come soon. I was happy for my sister, don't get me wrong, I just didn't want to hear how happy she was. Not like that. Ugh!
The first thing I did the next morning after I showered and dressed was go downstairs and start the coffee machine, then get Tan's food from the kitchen cabinet as the coffee machine worked. While I tried opening the can, Tan made sure to tell me how impatient she was with how much jumping she was doing beside me. I could hear her every move and she would always put her front legs on my arm, trying to tell me to hurry the heck up while panting like a dog right in my shoulder. Well, panting like herself.
"Bad dog, Tan. Bad dog!" I told her when I almost dropped the can because she just wouldn't let me open it in peace.
Eventually, I was able to get it open and put the food on her plate. I then placed it on the ground, hearing her start eating it right at the same second. It made me chuckle. She was just too cute for words.
by Rose B Mashal have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes