red

two.

Thomas and I instantly became friends from that day on. I took him to my favourite museums and explained all the art to him. He would clasp his hand around mine when I did my own paintings as he tried to guess what I was creating. He got me front row seats to all his performances and concerts. We spent most nights on his couch watching old movies as I described the characters and scenery. There were many times Thomas would get frustrated at not being able to see. There were other times when he would allow me to teach him, to show him, how to see things without having actual eyesight. Many occasions, though, he would be teaching me how to feel things in life rather than see them with the eyes.
"Eyesight takes away the imagination, Annie. I'm glad I don't have it." He would always tell me.

Thomas's mother, Maryann, didn't like the fact that her only child was getting so attached to someone he couldn't see. She disapproved of it, despised it even. She thought I was playing him by dating someone who couldn't see me. "Taking advantage of the lowly," she called it. I deeply disagreed.
Despite Maryann's constant nagging, Thomas and I continued to fall deep in love. So deep, in fact, if we were to "dig ourselves out of the massive hole we dug, it would take many, many, tiring years." According to Maryann.  

I still remember the night I had Thomas teach me to play the cello. It was late at night, up in his room, we were both exhausted from long days of work and he was getting frustrated that I couldn't play the right notes.

"Anne Alice!" He had cried. "What's going on? It's not that difficult, you should be able to do this!"

I fell stiff.

"Anne?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have your eyes closed?" He whispered.

I gave no reply, for the answer was yes, and he knew it.

He jumped out of his chair, then, with his hands intertwined stiffly behind his head; something he did to help control his rage.

"Are you trying to mock me, Anne Alice?! Is that what you're doing?!"

"No, Thomas! I-"

"You what?" He yelled, looking around furiously. "You'd just like to see what it feels like to be blind? You think it'll be fun, do you?!"

"No, that's not what-"

"I can't believe you." He said, leaning down and resting his hands on his knees. "You shouldn't take your eyesight for granted, Anne Alice! I don't like the fact you think roleplaying being blind is appealing to you!"

"It's not, Thomas! Listen to me!" I cried, pushing the cello against the bed.

"Why?!" He cried back.

"Because, I just- I just-"

"You just what, Anne?!"

I jumped to my feet then, knocking the cello over and causing Thomas to jump from the sudden bang.

"I just wanted to learn as you did, Thomas, okay?!" I screamed, with my hand over my chest to keep it from exploding.

"What?" He said, gentler now.

I walked slowly to where he was and took his heated hands in my cold ones.

"I just wanted to learn as you did." I repeated. "I wanted to feel it, not see it, like you."

His face softened at my words, his body relaxed at my touch.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

And with that, I kissed him. Our mouths collided with such passion, the force almost knocked me over. Our first kiss was just that: passion. It wasn't your typical sweet nor gentle. It was two kids on the playground throwing rocks at each other because one fancied the other but didn't know it yet. It was a young mother having to kiss goodbye the only love she ever knew as she watched him march off with his troops. It was an old couple, married for years, finding the spark of intimacy all over again. It was a girl who learned how to feel with her heart, and a boy who learned to see without eyes, colliding in such treacherous love, and feeling passion for the first time.

"Annie," Thomas whispered.

"Yes?"

"You must be red, too."