"Sandra Clark?" My Spanish teacher called my name days later.
"Hi. I mean, hola. I mean...si?" I asked, for once in my life trying.
She shook her head. "I realized I haven't learned much about you. You seem to always have....many things to say. So, feel free to say them in front of the class now." I stayed in my seat, and she eyed me with curiosity. "What are you waiting for?" She asked.
I shrugged. "I'm not waiting for anything. You told me to feel free to say things in front of the class. But I'm not free. I'm forced to keep my power hidden. So, I won't be saying anything to the class."
Of course Winter but in. "Sandra...just go."
"Winter-" I tried to stop her, but she looked at me, and her eyes flashed brown once again. It's not that her power compelled me, that doesn't work on me. But we all feel forced to trust those with power. It's just a humanly concept, no matter what your eyes look like, or what hand you write with.
So I did.
"I just...want to tell you guys a story." I told them.
After hearing many groans, I sat back down.
Winter flashed her brown eyes.
Back up I went.
I guess weakness really does matter in the long run.
I started my story.
"Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.
His bed was next to the room's only window.
The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end.
They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on
vacation..
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color
and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man could not hear the band -he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with
descriptive words."
I had their full attention. So it was time to ask the question, which I knew they would answer wrong. How could they not? They were all green and blue eyed. Besides Winter. Maybe she could see. Maybe.
"So, guys, tell me, who do you think died? The man with the amazing window, or the man with no window?"
"NO WINDOW!" They all shouted in unison. Including Winter.
Maybe there was some green in her eyes after all.
"Wrong." I told them. "The man by the window died the next day. As the saddened nurses took his corpse out, the other man wanted to switch spots with him. Of course they let him. When you're pittied, you can do many things others can't. With a price, of course."
"Always a price.." Whispered Winter.
"Always." I agreed, looking at her.
"And when he got there...there was a brick wall. No view at all. Absolutely blank."
Silence.
"Now, what do you think happened?"
No one dared to raise their hand.
Finally, Winter whispered, "The dead man was crazy..."
"Possibly. Crazy people always see more. That's why they're considered crazy. However, don't refer to him as 'the dead man.' It makes it sound so...final. Death is NOT goodbye, Winter. I thought you'd know that."
She looked away.
"Well, the man asked the nurse where the window went. She, of course, said there never was one. And even if there was, the first man wouldn't have been able to see it."
They looked extremely confused.
Winter got it, though. "He was BLIND!!" She cried out.
I nodded. "So he was never really blind at all. You all look at me like I have no brain, when I say the blind see more than all of us. This is a true story."
Winter looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears.
"Sandra...that IS a real story, you're right...that man who died was my dad..."
And my weakness beamed out brighter than any brown eyes.
