THE BLIND and THE LAME

9. The Club

I woke around seven to find Robbie next to me in the bed. Skin-tone patches covered his eyes. They creeped me out nearly as bad as the white-eye scleral contacts of the day before. I shook his shoulder and said "Robbie! What are you doing here?"

"Trying to sleep," he mumbled. "Leave me alone."

"I mean, why are you in my bed?"

"Maybe I'm scared of the dark," he said.

"Hell, Robbie," I said, "You live in the dark." He responded by running his hand over my shoulders and pecs. The reaction in my privates surprised me. "Robbie!" I exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

He mumbled, "You've got the best damn body in the world, and you know I like it." I had to wonder what had gone on while I was sleeping. I hardly knew what to make of all this. "Just hold me, willya?" he said, "I need your strength."

"Robbie..." I said.

"Please, Jimmy, just do it." He began to tear up and sniffle. What could I do? I slipped my arm around his shoulders. He relaxed instantly and fell asleep. I did too.

I felt him get out of the bed. I opened my eyes and saw it was nearly 8:30. Robbie's hand sought the bathroom door handle. "'Morning, sleepyhead," I said as he found it.

"You should talk. Gotta pee. Now," he said.

"Hey," I said. "So do I. Don't be long."

"I'm going to get dressed when I'm done," he replied. "I'll leave the door open."

"OK," I said. In less than two minutes the door opened. Robbie had left the door to his side open and as I did my business I called to Robbie, "Just wearing what we had on yesterday, right?"

"For now, yeah," he said. "We can shower when we're done breakfast. Maria will have fresh clothes laid out for us."

"Don't I get to choose what I want to wear?" I asked.

"She's been picking mine out for years. She does well, so I'm told. Maybe you ought to try trusting her with it. She raised four boys of her own, you know. They're all grown and living all over the country, so I figure she's taking out her mothering on me – us, now."

"Wow! How old is she?" I asked.

"She married Mario when she was sixteen. She had her first son within the year, then another, then her twins, bang, bang, bang. Mario came to this country and started working to get enough to pay a coyote to bring them to the States."

"Coy-o-teh?" I asked.

"A guy who knows how to sneak people across the border. They don't come cheap."

"Why did they come?"

"They couldn't find work in Mexico that would pay enough to raise their kids."

By that time I was dressed and on my crutches and Robbie was heading for the elevator. He said, "I got more to tell you over breakfast."

When we got to the table, already set for the two of us, there was a piece of paper with Robbie's name on it. There were a lot of little raised bumps on it that I figured was Braille.

"Here," I said, putting the paper in Robbie's hand. "I think this is for you."

Robbie ran his fingertips across the paper and said, "It's from Mom. She says she and Maria have gone grocery shopping and we should fix ourselves some cereal and toast, and don't forget to look for the guys bringing the safe box."

"We shouldn't have gotten up so late," I said.

"Nah, it was good," Robbie said as he found the glasses set out for our juice and started confidently toward the fridge. I ditched the crutches and limped along behind him, figuring I'd need to carry something. He opened the fridge, found the pitcher he wanted and confidently poured a glass for each of us, holding a finger in each as he did so as to know when he was within half an inch or so of the top. "Hope you don't mind the finger," he said. "A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."