Blind Love: English Read online

  The funny thing was, I couldn't for the life of me find my way to the stairs, not just because with my vision clearer now I – ironically – couldn't walk probably like I used to do while living in darkness, but also because I had no idea what the staircase looked like or where to go to get there. I was too confused, maybe. Or just so freaking happy that I was losing my mind with happiness. With pain filling my insides and despite everything in me that told me not to do it – I closed my eyes. I had to. And through darkness, I found my way. But when I opened my eyes again, with fear covering my every sense that I'd only ever see darkness again, I was proven wrong. I found my living room, my foyer and my kitchen.

  In there, standing by the stove, was a huge dude, bare chested, only wearing cutoff jeans, holding a pan in one hand and a spoon in the other. I knew who he was, but at the same time – I just didn't know, I couldn't recognize him. My very last memory of his face was as a twelve-year-old boy, skinny and forever sporting the worst haircut ever. Not this incredibly handsome and fit man standing in front of me.

  As if he'd felt my presence, he turned to glance my way. "Hey, lunch will be ready in a few, would you help me with the salad?" he said while looking at the objects in his hands.

  "Jonny!" I gasped his name in awe, my tears even heavier than they were just a moment ago.

  "Hey, you okay?" he asked in worry now that he realized I was crying, dropping everything in his hands and coming my way to stand in front of me. "Anna, what's wrong?"

  I reached with my hand and placed it over his cheek, a teary chuckle escaping my lips as I studied his features. "You've grown so much," I whispered, not able to raise my voice.

  "What? What do you mean?" His tone was a bit slower now as he tried to get what I was saying, maybe trying to figure out how I was looking at him straight in the eyes.

  "I can see you, Jonny. I can see you!"

  "What?" he said again. "Anna, please don't mess with me, it's not funny." His voice cracked at the end and I let out another chuckle that was drowning in my tears.

  "I really can see you!" I insisted.

  He then took a step back and his face – though hopeful and disbelieving at the same time – turned to draw a serious expression on it. "Okay, how many fingers am I holding up?" he asked and I laughed hard, slapping his hand away and calling him, "Jerk," for he had held his middle finger up at me.

  "Holy fuck!" he shouted, taking me in his arms as he cried with me tears that I knew were only evidence of his happiness, hugging me tight, laughing then crying then chuckling then cursing, a huge mess that turned out to be a greater chaos of mixed feelings when Jonathan called Sandra and told her to come over without saying why.

  "You never told me you had a blue streak done in your hair!" was the first thing I told her when she asked what was wrong. How she reacted after that was something I'd never be able to get out of my mind.

  That day, there was nothing wrong. The only wrong that happened was the ache I felt in my chest when I wondered what Ethan’s reaction to all of this would be. And the sick thought or stupid fantasy I had about us getting back together just because now I was a little bit better for him, that I could be nearer to the 'enough.' I loathed those thoughts and loathed that I’d ever had them. I was better than that. I knew I was.

  I moved my hand over the bright grass beneath me, smiling big at the memory of my sister and best friend, all happy tears and excited cheers and a never ending thankfulness for how I was blessed with getting my sight back again. Truly, it was a day I could never forget.

  I saw the mailman dropping something in my mailbox and I got up to get it. My stomach sank when I read that it was a wedding invitation. A moment of sadness washed over me when I realized that I had to learn about my sister getting married through a wedding invitation just like everyone else, but then I recovered quickly. It was my choice, after all. I chose to get away from Sandra and limit my time with her until it became almost non-existent. But it was difficult, and I had my reasons. Talking with Sandra always led to talking about Dominik and the band and all the things they were facing because they split up and everyone went their separate ways – and that meant talking about Ethan, something I couldn't bear, couldn't stand. It only made things even harder than they already were. I kind of cut Sandra out of my life – to a point. And I convinced myself that I had no right to be upset over the way I’d gotten the invitation. It was my choice. My own hand’s doing.

  Days had passed and I hadn't sent my reply back with whether I was going to attend the wedding or not. I didn't know if I could do it. I wanted to go and see my sister getting married, witness her moments of happiness and be happy for her. But I didn't know how it would feel to be in the same room as Ethan. I didn't know if I could stand seeing him or simply hearing his voice without crashing all over myself.

  I didn't know what to do.

  "Please, tell me you're coming," Sandra begged in a pained voice.

  "I'm not sure, Sandra," I replied honestly.

  "I can't believe this, Anna," she cried over the phone. "It's hard enough that I didn't even dare ask you to be my maid of honor or even bridesmaid because I knew you would refuse and it'd hurt me so much and I didn't want that. And now you're telling me you might not even come? What's wrong with you, Anna? Don't you know how this is hurting me? You’ve just kicked me out of your life without even telling me what I did wrong!"

  A tear escaped my eye. She was right. She had done nothing wrong and I was a jerk for doing this to her, but it was so hard for me to tell her what was going on in my head and my heart. It was even harder to explain.

  "Will Eth– … will he be there?" I asked with a shaky voice.

  I heard my sister sighing. "I don't know, Anna. I really don't, we never heard back from him."

  It was my turn to sigh. "I'll try my best."

  "Try harder. Please. For me."

  Sandra's wedding was beautiful. Small, warm and cozy. Everything was beautiful. She looked like an angel. I couldn't stop smiling. Seeing the look in Dominik's eyes as he looked at her as she walked toward the altar was enough to bring happy tears to my eyes.

  I was really touched by the fact that Sandra had the wedding at our parents' house. It was such a great choice, but not for the fact that the house was really big and had a huge backyard attached to a wide open space with a river passing by. It was for the fact that we would be able to add one more amazingly good memory to all of the memories we had there, and the fact that our parents' spirits surrounded us all the while the wedding was going. I could feel it.

  The food was like everything else, just amazing. I saved half of my steak for Tan and took it to her away from everyone else, so as not to bother anyone. It was kind enough of Sandra when she allowed her into the wedding in the first place and I didn't want to abuse her kindness by bringing my dog inside, as well.

  "Tan?" I called when I reached the place where I’d left her, the light wind messing up my hair and ruffling my blue short dress. "Get over here, Girl."

  I heard her as she barked while making her way to me and I smiled at her, placing the plate in my hand on the ground and waiting for her to come and ravish it. Just when she was approaching me, the strangest thing happened. Tan left the food – the thing she loved most, even more than she loved me – and ran somewhere behind me.

  I turned around with a frown and watched as she reached for a guy that was standing a bit far away from us. She then stood on her back legs and barked at him, her tongue dangling out of her mouth as she panted in excitement when he hugged her to him and patted her head, moving his hand through her fur a few times with warmth.

  It was really odd. Tan never acted that way with a stranger, and despite the fact that he was nice to her – it seemed – I couldn't help the feeling that I should apologize to him for her behavior.

  I made it to where they were and paused for a moment, watching the man as he smiled down at her and caressed her neck from behind her ears with both of his hands as he kneeled i
n front of her. It was very nice.

  He was such a handsome guy. His eyes were a perfect shade of grey that seemed to be able to look into your soul and his hair was a crazy mix of light brown with natural blonde highlights. It was a beautiful mix, messy and wild, going in every direction and making his pale skin almost shine under the light of the bright sun. His lips and his perfect jawline were a different story; I couldn't even describe how perfect they looked.

  I swallowed thickly when his eyes caught mine and his smile remained, maybe even became bigger. He stared at me closely for a long time, his soft smile that I could almost tell was a sad one grew on his beautiful lips and I had to smile in return. The look in his eyes – the way he looked at me, it did things to my heart, things I hadn't felt in far too long – it made it tingle.

  "Uh, I'm sorry about this. She’s never acted this way before with someone she doesn't know," I apologized, so embarrassed by Tan's behavior and afraid that she'd ruined his tux.

  His smile dropped and I could've sworn that a moment later I saw his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. I frowned at what I was seeing. His eyes told of stories I couldn't read or hear. Something strange was pulling me to him, and I almost begged him to tell this perfect stranger to sit down with him right then and there and tell me of those stories, yet I didn't know why I felt the need to step closer to him.

  After what felt like too long, his reply was only another sad smile and a shake of his head, as if he was telling me that he didn't mind and that it was okay. He didn't say anything, neither did I, we just stood there looking into each other’s eyes and–

  A light gust of wind blew into my face and I gasped, closing my eyes to go blind again like I always did when I needed to remember or see through the darkness only to make sure that I wasn't dreaming, to prove to myself that I wasn't imagining it, and then I inhaled deeply.

  I knew this smell.

  I knew who used this cologne.

  And I finally realized why Tan had acted that way.

  That guy standing in front of me wasn't actually a stranger. Not at all.

  It was him.

  Ethan.

  I opened my eyes and blinked away a lonely tear. After all of the time I’d spent avoiding reading the news or flipping to certain TV channels that I knew could be showing something about him or the band, because I didn't want to know what his face looked like, I now got to see him. I’d wanted to stay in the dark about him, for his face to be nothing but a blank memory in my head, because that way it'd be better. If I didn't have an image in my head of how he looked, it'd be better. Easier for me.

  I took a step back before turning around in the opposite direction, intending to run back to the house. But his hand caught my arm and he stopped me from going anywhere.

  I closed my eyes at the feel of his hand on the bare skin of my arm. The feel of his touch, the touch that made all of the memories I’d tried to bury for almost two years now rush back into my head, strong and powerful, clear-but-dark images attacking my mind and begging me to fill it with more. With new ones. New ones that had no darkness in them. Just clearness.

  "Anna," my name on his lips was a plea. His voice in my ears was pain. The struggle between my heart, my mind and my legs was a battle.

  I didn't know what to do. Listening to his voice was even harder than seeing him, harder than feeling his touch, for his voice brought even greater memories to my mind, those memories that I had of him even before I’d met him. His songs that were my passion for years, the words he sang that always gave me the push to fight and keep going, his phone calls that most of the time lasted all the night long, his talks with me when he became a dear, dear friend in just a few weeks, and then the memory of this very voice telling me that he loved me like no other and that he always would until the end of the world. Hearing his voice hurt. So bad.

  "Don't go, please," he pleaded again.

  But I wanted to go. I wanted away. It was too hard. I wanted out!

  "Please, stop running away from me," he begged. "I've just found you, please, don't go."

  I stood still, frozen in my place, not wanting anything other than to walk away, but not finding the will to do it, at the same time.

  "I know you don't want me near you anymore, and I don't know why or what I did wrong, but, Anna … I can't take it anymore. I can't stop thinking about you. I tried, I swear I tried, but I could never, ever stop loving you. Not for one minute have I ever stopped loving you."

  My chest tightened, and my heart swelled, wanting to believe him. It wanted me to tell him that it was the same for me, but my mind wouldn't let me do it. My heart was stupid, my mind was not. My mind wanted to protect me from getting broken all over again. My mind forced me to never say it, forced me to tell him what I knew he truly was.

  "Liar," I whispered, but with enough power for him to be able to hear me, turning back to look him in the face when I spoke. "You never loved me, stop doing that, stop it. Why do you want to hurt me this way, why am I such an enjoyable game to you that you want to play with me over and over again? Just stop it!" I yanked my arm away from his soft grip, tears streamed down my face and sobs were let out of my mouth. I hated it. I hated my eyes for crying, and I hated my chest for swelling so hard. My tears were traitors, I hated them to no end, they made me look so weak in front of him, and it was the last thing I ever wanted him to see me as: weak. I hated to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his game had worked so well and that he'd destroyed me so badly. But my eyes betrayed me and let loose my tears, telling him just how badly I was hurt and broken for knowing what we had and just never having the chance to ever live it again.

  "Anna, what are you saying?" he asked, the frown and shock decorating his beautiful features. "Why would you even think that? Why would you think I lied to you? I never did!"

  "Yes, you did!" I insisted, my voice growing louder. "I heard you that night, Ethan! I heard everything. I heard you telling Dominik how you couldn't do it anymore, how you couldn't do me anymore. I heard you telling him that you hated me so much and I couldn't see it only because I was fucking blind!" The new round of the never ending sea of tears were strangling me as I spoke. His words that hurt me so much and for so long were ringing in my ears as if I was hearing them right at that second. It was freaking painful.

  "What the hell?" he asked in shock. "I've never said anythi– …" He stopped mid-sentence and his eyes moved to the side as if he was remembering something. "Oh, fuck!" he eventually said. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say, daring him to lie to me one more time. "Anna, I wasn't talking about you!"

  "Huh!" I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Of course, that was what he went for.

  "Fuck it, Anna! I swear to God, I swear over my life that I wasn't talking about you," he said.

  "Really? Who was it then that Dominik said you didn't have to sleep with again? How many blind girls have you slept with in your life?!"

  He gripped his hair with both of his hands before he shook his head, sighed and spoke, "Lisa."

  "What? Lisa? Your producer?" I frowned. It couldn't be her; she was in her fifties, way older than Ethan, at least twenty-five years older than him or something like that. Surly he didn't mean her. And – she wasn't blind. Okay, I was really confused. I mean, couldn't he at least come up with better lies? More convincing ones? Not like I was going to be convinced with anything he'd say, anyway, but still.

  "Yes, Anna, that's the one, my ex-producer."

  "I, uh, I don't understand," I admitted.

  "Lisa was … into me, sort of."

  "What do you mean she was 'into you, sort of'?!"

  "She wanted to have sex with me every now and then, Anna, and I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't even touch her, I was in love with you. The thought of being with anyone other than you disgusted me more than I could explain. Dominik was telling me that I should at least flirt with her or hint that I was going to do what she wanted, because she’d started thr
owing shit on us when she wasn't getting what she wanted anymore. She even said that she was going to break our contract because we weren't as good as we used to be and people wanted to see new faces."

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It did make sense, but …

  "You slept with that woman?" I asked in shock.

  His answer was a nod without looking me in the eyes. His lips were in a tight line as he pressed on them, moving his hand through the mess of his hair in frustration maybe or even discomfort, I couldn't tell which.

  "Why have you never told me any of this before?" I asked after a pause of silence.

  "It's not easy to admit that I fucked my way to success, Anna," he replied while looking away.

  My heart ached at his words, and it took me more than a few minutes standing there in silence as I tried to take in all of what he’d said. My mind was now starting to warm to him and take the same side as my heart, and sadness was filling my every sense at the realization of all of we’d gone through for nothing – because of a stupid misunderstanding. Sadness at what he had gone through all of this time and barely anyone knew anything about it – and then what he went through because of me not hearing him out.

  "You weren't talking about me?" I whispered.

  He shook his head and took a step closer to me. His hands touched my face and I took in a sharp breath when he hugged it like he used to do so many times what felt like so long ago. He stared deep into my eyes and his thumbs wiped away my tears. "I wasn't talking about you, never would I have said anything like that about you – not even close. I love you, Anna. I love you. Don't you get it? I’ve loved you since the very first time I laid my eyes on you, that night at the concert when all I could see were faces and mouths drooling over me – something I'd been used to seeing since I was barely a teenager, even before the band. I grew so sick of it. But you – you were the only one who wasn't even glancing my way. You were just a girl with her eyes closed, facing the sky, swaying to the music that I was playing, lost in my songs and looking as if you were flying. You captured my heart that night, Anna, I swear you did, and I have never been able to stop thinking about you since then, not for one minute."