The World of the Blind

- Can I talk to Mr. Miller? trying not to stutter, I cleared my throat, and my voice sounded hoarse.

-He's pretty busy right now. The answer was accompanied by a bang in the background. You don't hold that arm well! the one at the end of the line had shouted, pushing the phone away from his ear for a second. Can I send you a message?

-Please tell her that Anna's daughter called.

-Of course. I wish you a good day. Compared to the roar of the crash, his voice sounded like the rags of the gods now.4

-Thank you the same !

When I put the phone back on the hook, my body was shaking so hard that dozens of simultaneous shivers seemed to shake my body. The ice blocked my blood from circulating, and tiny daggers stung my eyes.

How did David get his father's number? I hugged my body, trying to calm down, to warm my frozen blood. I clutched the note in my fist, holding it close to my beating heart.

- Now I can rest assured that you also found the ticket from your boyfriend. Whom I'm fooling, I've been dead for about two days. Are there two days?

God, at least the useless rattle would have cured her. Even so!

I was spinning the ring on my finger incessantly, trying to calm my heart as my mind tried to process. Just the sound of the metal hitting the tiles, the sharp click, made me realize I had dropped it. But the awareness of the lack of the ring had happened too late, for Spencer had already seen my eyes. The words stopped in her throat, and for the first time in my life — my life — I had left her speechless.

He had already reached a new record. Spencer had been silent for almost 20 minutes as I rummaged through her things. If I hadn't gotten something out of this room, her mother wouldn't have let me go. . A fine silver chain on which hung a pendant in the shape of a photo frame with a picture of me, a chubby Spencer and an Emily with braces. I smiled at the photo and went down the steps with the weak Spencer, clear even though he was dead after me. After the exit check, I hugged Spencer's mother and headed home.

- I told you every secret of mine, I told you every night of drunkenness in which I made my head, the divorce of my family, and you do not even want to look at me!

That was about the silence ... Now was the time for reproach and emotional blackmail ...

I turned around, thinking that a walk in the park would be good for both of us, because I couldn't hear my thoughts ...

I passed the pastry shop window, but my chocolate donut tasted tears, reproaches, tears, sadness, tears and pain ...

-... with all your problems, I listened to you, I accepted even your insensitive Spaniard because you loved him blindly! And you don't even have the common sense to admit that you see my ghost, or whatever I am now!

I looked behind him, holding his gaze as I twisted my body trying not to be blown away by the wind, for my soul felt like a thin sheet of paper.

-I'm back from my best friend's funeral, while the other best friend is in the hospital, amnesic, and she doesn't remember me or her boyfriend who probably suffers like an idiot accompanied by a bottle of whiskey! Ooo, yes, and the night before I lost my virginity to a guy who left while I was sleeping! I lost my mother 10 years ago, and my father probably hates me! My eyes change color, and I can see the ghosts, especially my mother's, which I killed, I completed the sentence in my mind, and my friend's. What else do you want me to tell you? It seems to me the typical life of a teenager!

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An old man passed me pulling a collared dog, making a cross. His wrinkled skin was looking at a child he thought was mentally insane, perhaps escaped from the insane asylum.

Then I realized that I was arguing in the middle of the street with a dead person, whose ghost I could only see. My knees became trembling and soft as gelatin, tears streaming down my eyes as if the Amazon had sprung from my eyes, and my body simply collapsed to the ground. I heard the material tear and I saw through the mist of tears the torn tights and the ruffled hem of the dress.

For the first time in my life, Spencer didn't care about my tears, my torn dress, or my damaged tights. She felt so hurt that she spat the words in front of me, quickly and yet in my head they resounded slowly, as if she wanted to permeate them in my memory, like a stinging tattoo on my brain:

-It looks like it only took a fatal car accident to tell me all this.

It was easy to see the difference between her and her mother. While Spencer did not know what it meant to be a ghost, his mother knew how to disappear, transport his ghost wherever he wanted, read minds, and induce dreams. If she had known how to teleport, Spencer wouldn't have stepped on the concrete pavement slabs, though her heels would never sound like they were colliding with the asphalt again.

My legs were lying under my body, as if they were separated from the rest of my body, barely feeling the sting of the bruise caused by contact with the hard ground. I pulled my knees in a tight hug, as if trying not to fall apart completely.

I cried in the silent noise of the street, seeing in the corners of my eyes people walking around me. My eyes felt like a stab in the ribs, fast steps like reproaches ... I felt like a broken toy, thrown in a pile of grass, trampled on. But I didn't mind. My legs weren't strong enough to lift me up. I couldn't fix or glue myself. David. Spencer. Emily. Kyle.Dad. Spencer's and Emily's parents. Mother. They had all been in my gloved palms. But the gloves were torn, and death kissed their heads, directly or indirectly, shattering their souls ...

After a few tens of minutes, two palms landed on my shoulders, and my frozen body shuddered at the contact with the cold skin.

-Madeline? the guttural voice, sad but calm, did not seem very familiar to me. It was as if I had heard it in a distant dream, as if it had resounded in my eardrums like an illusion in the desert.

I was afraid to look up. So scared. I looked for my ring on my ring finger, twisted it twice, and looked back at my voice.

He didn't look very good. He didn't look any better than me, actually. He had crescent-shaped hair under his eyes, unshaven, and small strands covered his chin, his drooping cheeks turned a sickly color, his hair was glued to his scalp on one side and ruffled on the other. But her beautiful eyes shone with tears.

Until then, I think we'd only seen each other once before, without Emily. We often saw ourselves in the high school lobby, in the canteen, or in the classrooms, but all we did was greet each other and walk on our way. But then, on that alley, our roads had become the same: a dark road, as if it had been lined with the darkness of my hair, sprinkled only with tears, worries and pain.

He took off his denim jacket and placed it on my shoulders. But the gesture was different from the one David's hands were making. When he put his jacket on my shoulders, his palms pressed against my shoulders, then over my shoulder blades, caressing my skin slightly ...

A tear unconsciously wets my cheek ...

-Are you coming from the hospital?

"The nurses just kicked me out of there ..." he said, shaking his head for a few seconds. You?

-You missed an honorable funeral! Another tear shattered on the asphalt.

-She doesn't remember anything ... I'm a stranger to her ... Do you know that bracelet I gave her as a gift? Since I gave it to him, he hasn't taken it off his hand for even a second. When she woke up in the hospital, she took it off and gave it to her mother to hold ... My Emily would have held the bracelet in her hand even if it meant cutting her half of her hair ...

For a second, I forgot about my sadness and looked at his. He had in mind the kind of affection that grinds you when the one you love doesn't feel the same. The kind of sadness that could no longer be removed but diminished until it became a hideous, unsightly scar that grew on your soul was imprinted on his face. I said looking him straight in the eye:

-Don't forget, she loves you!

-He loved me ...

-Loves you. But he doesn't remember. It's your job to make her remember.

-I don't think I would be able to do that ... And the hardest part is that I can't give up all the beautiful things and move on. I keep stumbling over memories and forget that I should go back, not back ... Do you want my advice? Try to forget everything, and start over. It's far too painful to get things back the way they were ...