Charlotte O'Brien
The air was cold on my face as Ric and I strolled across the short expanse of his yard to mine. The evening had gone just like usual: Ric had sprawled himself across his bed and I spread out on his floor while music that wasn't quite enjoyable played in the background. Mrs. Legrand popped in and gave us pizza straight out of her kitchen oven and his sister Mallory, with her high pitched voiced and light footsteps stopped by to tell me about how she had a crush on a cross country runner. A typical Friday night. Now Ric held my small hand in his that was the size of an oven mitt, even though I repeatedly told him that the best way to lead a visually disabled person is by having them hold your elbow as you lead them. Ric's bulk and height brought back old memories of walking side by side with my father through the main streets of the little town of Garrett Park, Maryland, on autumn nights like this one. We would stop in and buy hot chocolate from my dad's high school sweetheart and we'd sip it as we walked along and Dad described everything to me in detail: the elderly woman with a purple scarf that dragged the ground, a child on a bicycle with a lollipop clamped tightly between his teeth, racing down the street like the police were on his tail, and a man with the stars in his eyes and a rose in his hand that danced as he walked.
It smelled like rain, crispness, and hope. There in the dark October night, with my best friend at my side, it literally felt like anything was possible: birth, love, hate, or death. It felt like we were standing on this great precipice, right at the edge. At the bottom, there could the answers and solutions to all of my problems and worries, or there could be pain, hurt, and depression. There was no way to tell.
We stepped up on my front porch, the boards slightly creaking under our combined weight. Inside, I could hear that the T.V. was turned to one of the moronic kid channels, which meant my mother and father were pointing out all of its flaws and complaining about what effect it will have on the children who watch them. I could just imagine my mother sitting on the carpeted living room floor, a cup of tea beside her, her reading glasses perched on her nose, and the papers she needed to grade spread out in front of her while Donna the Explorer asked her where the banana tree was.
It all felt like two separate worlds, two separate universes, as Ric pulled the key that my dad gave him long, long ago out of his hoodie pocket and slid it into the lock of the thick oak door. In there, everything was familiar, set in stone, and would play out just as it always had. Out here, the air vibrated with new and unknown possibility, like the air before a lightning storm.
"Something's going to happen," I told Ric confidently as the door opened with a snick. The scent of meatloaf and asparagus wafted out. "I don't know what, but it's going to be life changing."
I paused as the wind ruffled my hair and brushed it against my face. "I can feel it."
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Book Covers
Romance"Is this how it feels, Charlotte? To talk to someone when you're blind? You can't see their face or expression or their hands; you just focus on their voice and let their words wash over you?" ... Everyone is judged by their book cover, how they...
