Chapter 7
Seven
Henry
We never do go back to the ending after he tells me about the two main characters losing themselves in their overly consuming kiss.
Although I’m not sure it’s as hot as he describes it.
It’s like he’s reliving a really good moment he had himself and he was reminded of it by the movie.
Why did that make me jealous? And why, even after turning the movie off and taking the phone into my kitchen, do I keep wondering who he was thinking about while he was going into such deep detail?
Each one had me melting right into the damn suede cushions.
He was right about making me feel like I was in the movie, but in my head I was in it as me, while the other person was the man who I felt was sitting right next to me.
I wish I could picture his face more, but nothing I visualize matches his voice.
That smooth, sultry tone that I’ll gladly take over some stupid robot anytime.
I bite my tongue, opening the cabinet before closing it after my hand comes in contact with a cup instead of a bowl.
“I thought I knew this place better. I’ve been here so many times that I should.”
“Hey. It’s okay. You’ve never visited it this way before. This experience won’t be like the rest, so it’s best not to treat it like it is. Besides, how long has it been since you were last here?”
I thrum my fingers on the counter, counting the months on each one as I do. “Almost a year. I meant to come back before that, but we never got around to it. It’s really beautiful here in the summer.”
“A year is a long time. I’m sure you didn’t always remember where everything was during each visit. I wouldn’t after that amount of time had passed either.”
“Yeah.” I press my right hip into the counter. “Maybe not. Being able to see more than shapes and light would help, though.”
“You have your other senses still, and they’ll become stronger over time.” He treads carefully. “Lift your hand again and focus on what’s around you. You’re on the right side of the sink, remember?”
“Yeah.” I do as he says, my skin coming in contact with the cool wood.
“What’s the first cabinet you come to when you walk past it?”
“The one with the cups and then . . .” A light bulb flashes in my head.
“The cabinet with the bowls. Second shelf should have the larger ones.” I scoot my hands over, slowly opening the small door, and I smile when my nails clink against glass.
I do know where things are. I just need to not overthink it and go based on what my body remembers. What my feet and hands know.
“See. You don’t need me as much as you think you do. I’m here more for reassurance and encouragement.”
“You’d make a great cheerleader.”
“That’s because I was one,” he pipes.
My hand briefly slides away from the bowl. “Seriously?”
“No, but that would probably have helped me prepare for all the exercising I had to do during PT.”
I snort. “I’m sure you’re a lot better at running than me. Everyone is. Pretty sure I’m allergic to it actually.”
He barks out a short laugh. “So, you’re saying you used to go to the park just to sit on a bench near sweaty yogis before the accident too?”
“No.” I chuckle. “I like walking. You can add petting random pet pigs to the list now too.”
“Are there parks close to where you are?”
“Kind of. There’s a trail a little past my back yard. I used to cut through the trees to get there. It’s all covered in snow and ice right now, though. I slipped on it often enough before I became blind, so I’d hate to see all the damage I’d do to myself now.”
“A wise man once told me practice makes perfect . . . Oh yeah, that was me. So I’m here to pass the message to you.”
“Thanks. So glad to have you here to not only describe kissing scenes and help me find mixing bowls but to offer great guidance too.”
“Stick with me, young grasshopper, and you’ll never be lost in life again.”
I let out a short laugh. “I’ll get out there again eventually. I need to be able to find my way around this house first before I try to make it outside.”
“Sounds like a good plan. What is it we’re supposed to be making again?”
I reach for the bowl again. “Pancakes. I’m in the mood for breakfast food.”
“Breakfast food is good for every meal and probably my favorite.”
“Mine too.” A smile ghosts over my lips. “Pancakes, French toast, bacon, and hash browns.”
“You’re making me hungry now.”
“I’d say come join me, but then I wouldn’t be able to bother you through the app anymore and ask you to tell me over the phone what the expiration date on the milk is.” Am I flirting? Do I really want him to join me? I don’t even know the guy.
“That would be a bummer. I’d really miss that little alert noise my phone makes when you call,” he teases.
“I figured you would, which is why I’m not having you join me for pancakes,” I retort.
“No, you’re only inviting me to the cooking process.”
“Yes, because I’m fulfilling your need to volunteer to help people.”
“I appreciate it.” He hums. “Should we maybe go on a hunt for that pancake mix?”
“My sister was here last week, and she usually keeps it in a teal jar. There are three but they should be in the center.” I feel around the counter until my hand is where I need it to be. “Aha, here it is.”
“Yes. That is a very teal jar.”
I laugh, knowing that once I no longer need him today, I’ll be wanting to come up with some excuse to call back.
I’m not so sure I need him now, but it’s nice having the cabin filled with a voice that isn’t mine or coming from audiobooks.
Yeah, fictional men are great, but they don’t joke back with me or help me make pancakes while in a different house.
Lifting the lid, I lean over the counter and point my eyes downward.
I shake my head and laugh at myself. I reach into the jar and search for the scooper with my fingers.
It doesn’t take long to measure the right amount into the bowl.
Setting the phone down on the windowsill, I turn on the sink and use the same measuring cup to add water to the dry mixture.
I’m moving easier around the kitchen now, with much more confidence in my steps as I mix the batter until it feels like the right consistency around my finger.
I was always a measure with my heart kind of person, never going based on what any box or recipe said.
“You sure you still need me?”
I turn toward where his voice is coming from. “Oh, right, you’re still here.” I smile cheekily and he laughs.
“So that’s a no then, huh?”
“Actually, I’m about to get to the hard part. Using the stove. I haven’t done it since setting the smoke detector off with my burnt eggs.”
He snorts. “Okay. I’m here when you need me.”
“Are you?”
“Yup. Whenever you’re ready for my assistance, just yell my way.”
“And what all types of assistance are you including?” Okay, maybe I could have got away with saying I wasn’t purposely flirting before, but I’m not so sure I could now. Not that it would get me anywhere, but it does feel nice to be able to again.
“Hmm. Whatever you need, I suppose.”
“Like, if I needed to make sure to clean every crack in my kitchen tile?”
“Yes.”
“And if I needed to make sure I was shaving my face in all the right places?”
“Sure,” he responds promptly.
“What about if I wanted to make sure my underwear matched the rest of my outfit for the day?”
He makes a deep sound with his throat. “Then I’m your guy.”
I stifle a laugh. “Don’t worry. All my underwear is black, and I hardly bother with them anymore anyway.” And why am I telling him this? I cringe on the inside from the lack of filter I have whenever I start my rambling back up. “Sorry . . . I really need to learn when to stop.”
“Like I said before, I’d rather you not. See, I’ve learned more about you in only a few minutes, and now I can cross underwear shopping off the list.”
I bite back a laugh. “Funny. Okay, let’s see if I can do this without adding more burns to my fingers.”
I manage not to come in close contact with the pan or stove as I pour the batter onto the hot skillet after Rafael tells me about a neat trick he learned watching informative videos on YouTube.
I’ll have to remember to splash water when checking if the pan is hot enough for the next time I try to cook on my own.
Not sure when that’ll be, though, when I much prefer having Rafael watching me while offering his expertise guidance.
“They’re bubbling,” he points out.
“Oh. There has to be another way to know when to flip them.”
“There is. Put the spatula under the pancake, and if it’s not sticking to the pan, then it’s ready to be flipped.”
The corners of my mouth lift. “What channel is this you were watching again?”
“I just searched for learning to cook and other random things while visually impaired. Figured it would help when assisting people on the app.”
“That was good thinking. It’s helping me a lot today.
I need to watch some myself. Or I guess listen.
” It really was a hard pill to swallow when first being met with the reality of never seeing a new movie or new faces again.
It still is sometimes. Especially when I want more than anything to know the face he’s making right now and when I was mentioning going commando most days.
I don’t even know if the guy is attracted to the same sex.
Not that it matters. Travis thought I was lacking and so would he.
Not that he would ever be an option. He’s here to help me.
He’s volunteering to kill time in his day.
I’m sure he’d much rather be doing something other than watching me flip pancakes, but he’s obviously too much of a gentleman to tell me so.
“Yeah. There are so many great videos out there. Lots of awesome audiobooks too. As you can see, I have lots of time on my hands.”
“Ever think about getting a part time job?”
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure anyone would want to hire someone like me.”
I’m about to ask what he means and then he shouts, “Time to flip the other one.”
“Oh. Right. I’m supposed to be cooking.”
He laughs. “Yeah. Good thing I’m here. Please call me if you decide to use the stove again.”
“Are you going to offer supervising services now?”
“I did say whatever you needed, didn’t I?”
“You did.” When my food’s done, I plate the pancakes and carry them to the table. I hang my cane on the chair and thank him for his help as I’m lowering myself into my seat. I sit too close to the edge, almost sliding onto the ground, and lean on the table as I guide myself back.
“You sure you’re good?” he says, his voice cracking.
“I’m sure. I can handle things from here. I remember where my mouth is.”
He laughs. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Thanks again, Raf.”
“You’re very welcome, Henry.”
I end the call and scoot closer to the table, lifting a forkful of food to my smiling lips.
After I clear my plate, I set it in the dishwasher and make my way back to the couch.
The robot voice is worse than I remember, and it’s really hard to ignore Rafael’s words echoing in my head . . . “Anything you need.”