The Blind Teacher's Bait

Chapter 9~ Touch

"IT MEANT THAT the use of that particular element was quite unnecessary and is often used as an excuse to hide artistic deficiency. That's what his painting, Solitude was trying to say, wasn't it?" I said, the moment I entered the studio.

Professor Sykes looked up from his book, surprised at my sudden declaration. He was sitting cross legged on the floor as usual, I was starting to think he never actually sat on the chairs or stools here. He was dressed in his usual jeans but this time, a black sweater covered his broad chest and beautiful tattoos.

"I take it you've been studying the last writings of Picasso like I told you?" He snapped his book closed, the dark shades hiding the eyes that were supposed to be facing me. I still didn't know my teacher's eye color as odd as it was.

"Yes," I confirmed, going over to where he sat and stopping three feet from him and sitting on the floor too, imitating his position. "My interpretation, it's correct, isn't it?"

"Yes --" he started but I felt a huge grin slide unto my face, happy that I had gotten it right. It had taken a lot of thinking but with a little tip from James, I had gotten it. " --but not entirely."

My grin wiped faster than a cheetah on crack.

"What? There's no other possible explanation that sounds remotely sensible."

"But who told you the answer always has to be sensible?" He asked, quite serious, his pale, pink lips moving ever so slightly. "The answer doesn't always have to be hidden, sometimes it's always just there in plain sight, Miss Lee Song."

"Miss Song," I corrected, impatiently. "You could just tell me."

"We tend to understand things we figure out ourselves better than when we're told," was his quiet reply. "How are your classes going?"

"Like you care." He asked this question every time and I got the feeling he was mandated to know how my studies went. He was like a machine, all knowing with the ability of sitting still for ages.

"What makes you think I don't?" He asked back, coolly. The black book he had been reading was sitting on his legs now. I looked down at his long legs ending on his barefoot and was struck yet again by how good looking this man was.

I tore my eyes off his toes to his face, wondering what he would do if I took the shades off his face, his hair was staying in it's usual, short man-bun. "I know you don't."

"Interesting." His one word comment struck me as odd but I chose not to dwell too much on it.

"You know what's really interesting, sir? It's the fact that you're reading."

"How is that interesting?" I was half surprised that he was still humoring me by replying. Normal him would have given me a long reading exercise, he must have been in a good mood this afternoon.

"You're blind."

"Yeah, I noticed too." His sarcasm had been layered on perfectly, not too thick or too thin.

"How long have you been using braille?" I really was interested as I pushed on further, wanting answers. His whole personality was mysterious and for the umpteenth time, I wondered how he had gone blind.

"Close to a decade now."

It hit me slower than it should have when I blurted out my next question. "How long have you been blind then?"

"Open your textbook, Miss Lee Song, I want to explain that last chapter you read as assignment to you. You did read it, right?" That was the hint for me to mind my business and focus on what I came here to do but I was dying to know more than the internet revealed about him.