The Song of David

“Yes. I am.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good. I will try to be more professional in the future.” With that she held her hand out in my general direction, obviously wanting to shake hands in a “professional” manner.

I clasped it briefly, fighting the urge to laugh again. She was funny, especially because she wasn’t trying to be.

“If you think Henry would like it, bring him by the gym. It’s two doors south of the bar, same side of the street. I have a whole team of fighters. Lou works out with us sometimes too. We spar and train from about ten to four most days. I can show him a few things, introduce him to the guys.”

“Really?” she squeaked, and she squeezed my hand tightly, bringing her other hand up to envelope it between her two smaller ones. “I’ll ask him. I actually think he might like that. He’s really shy, and he doesn’t like it when people touch him, but maybe he could just watch.”

“I wasn’t going to ask him to get in the octagon,” I said wryly.

“Are you smiling again?” It was a strange sensation to think I could wear whatever expression I wished, and she would be totally unaware. I could make fun of her, roll my eyes, grimace, stick out my tongue. And she would never know.

“Yes. I guess I am.”

“I thought so.” Amelie smiled too, but her face was tilted away from me, her eyes fixed on nothing, almost excluding me. Her teeth were white and straight behind smiling pink lips, scrubbed free of the red lipstick she’d worn in the cage the night before. In fact, her face was completely devoid of make-up, and here under the bright lights of the chandelier, where I could really see her, she was young and lovely with her dark hair tucked behind her ears. The way she didn’t make eye contact felt strangely coy, as if she were playing hard to get, though I knew better. She wasn’t playing that game. She couldn’t.

I released her hand and stepped back, my hand reaching for the door. She tilted her head toward the sound of me moving away. I knew she was the one at a disadvantage technically, but damned if I didn’t feel like I was the butt of a private joke, the way her eyes never drank me in.

“Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Taggert.”

“You’re welcome, Miss . . .”

“Anderson,” she supplied, although I already knew her last name.

“Goodnight, Amelie Anderson.”

I let myself out, pulling the door closed behind me.



(End of Cassette)





Moses




THE FIRST TAPE ended with the loud click of the play button releasing, and I exhaled deeply, as if I’d been released as well. I’d been holding my breath throughout, afraid to relax, worried I would miss the clues, that I wouldn’t pick up on what Tag wasn’t telling us. The problem was, he seemed to be baring his soul, leaving nothing out of their first encounters, even the details better left unsaid.

“I don’t watch movies. I listen to them. I’m partial to great dialogue and awesome soundtracks, and romance is a must,” Millie spoke up, as if she felt compelled to supply the behind-the-scenes details Tag hadn’t shared. “A while back, my cousin Robin and I had an eighties movies marathon, complete with Dirty Dancing and Flashdance, and I did my best to follow along while Robin filled in the blanks. I put Flashdance on again when Robin went home. I listened to it over and over, and I imagined how it would feel to dance in front of an audience, to dance in front of people who didn’t know I was blind. That’s where I got the idea. I did a little research, hired a handy man, and within two weeks a sturdy stripper pole was keeping the water heater and the furnace company in our basement. The handyman asked me out, too. I declined.”

“Smart girl,” I said. I was impressed. She was full of life, and I felt a brief flash of happiness for my friend before I remembered that he’d let go.

“I took dancing and gymnastics when I was younger, and I was competitive all the way up to the time my sight started to fail. But being blind didn’t take away my ability to tumble, or swing from a bar, or even balance on a beam. With the help of my mom and some patient coaches, I was able to continue with my gymnastics up until just a few years ago. I still work out at the training facility sometimes, but I’ve over-stayed my welcome. I’ve outgrown my pathetic appeal, and I feel like a burden more often than not, always having to have someone nearby, keeping an eye out for me.