The Blind Beggar: Part XXIV

As Jo March, Amal began posting her sunset descriptions.  She was happy when the first person read and liked her post.  She was elated when someone began following her.  Without thinking, Amal followed her back.  She had two followers: Madhura and the new person. 

After each entry, Amal checked the status after a few minutes to see if anyone read it.  She was puzzled by the randomness of how and when people read her work.  One day, there would be many page views and it made Amal very happy.  Then when she posted something she felt was the best yet, it seemed no one cared.  The whole process was thrilling and frustrating.  It was heaven and hell.  It made her crazy but she knew she could never stop.  She would blog the rest of her life. 

After blogging for some time, someone suggested she add a picture of the sunset for each description.  Amal pondered the thought for some time.  It seemed like an easy thing to do and, it appeared, would enamor some of her followers.  Still, Amal considered herself an old soul for her young age.  She felt people were losing the gift of description.  Yes, a picture says things mere words cannot.  But words speak life and emotions.  They can cut through to the soul of a human.  Poets understand this.  A poet says in a stanza what the novelist says in a page. 

Amal decided, unless she felt the occasion required it, she would not post pictures with her nightfall portrayals.  The world needed to learn again how to describe people, places and things.  We have gotten lazy in modern life.  Amal knew she could not change the course of evolution but she would be a rock in the river on this point. 

It was about this time, Rima began reading a new blog.  All the entries were dynamic renderings of various sunsets.  Since there was an option to follow the blog, Rima began doing so.  At first, she didn’t read every day or even with every notification of a new post.  Still, with each chapter, she found herself transported to a fantasy land. 

The world was perfect in the beauty of creation.  Each entry was about a mere point of the earth at a particular time of day but she felt drawn to it.  It was beauty.  It was simplicity.  It was nature itself.  It had a cleansing effect on her soul.  The author had a unique and fantastic way of capturing her imagination.  Rima felt she had observed some of the scenes.  Rima believed she shared some of the same experiences with the writer.  Of course, that was silly.

Little by little, Amal gained an ever growing following.  For the first time she felt she was a person again.  It seemed her life had been reduced to doing for others with no hint of appreciation from the receivers of her benevolence.  She understood keeping house and caring for her family were important and worthwhile things to do but Amal believed there had to be more.  Surely she was more than the cook, maid and nanny in her household.  She wanted to be more than the person her husband used to satisfy his desires. 

Perhaps, finally, Amal was beginning to recognize the buried desires of her heart.  She wanted to be seen and accepted as a person of worth who could contribute to the world.  Through Jo March, she was becoming that person. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXIII

Amal now had a mission for her heart.  Whenever she had time, she hurriedly finished cleaning the kitchen and stepped outdoors.  At first, she simply stood on the balcony and observed.  She took in each sunset, soaking in the essence.  She used all her senses to absorb everything about it. 

She called back to descriptions she told Ali as he ate meals she brought.  He seemed to internalize her words.  In the moments on the balcony observing the setting sun, she felt closer to the love of her youth.  By now, she knew she couldn’t fantasize about being with Ali.  It couldn’t work.  She was married and had to move on but wanted to honor him in some small way.  Sunset was her remembrance.  It was her honor of Ali.  Sunsets were special to him and they became extraordinary to Amal as a result. 

After observing for a month or so, Amal felt the need to begin writing down her observances.  Like when she first began describing the nightfall skies to Ali, words were hard to find.  Over time, it became easier.  It was the same now.  She sometimes felt she grasped empty air as she reached for terms to describe God’s canvas.  She would simply do the best she could and trust He understood her deficiencies. 

In the beginning, she inscribed her perceptions in a simple notebook.  After a month of sunsets, Amal read over her observances.  For each one, she fought to again visualize the sight, to experience the image.  All in all, she was pleased with her ability to articulate the wonders of each sunset. 

A few weeks later while her husband was out of town on business, Amal and Madhura were discussing the progress of their herb gardens and other plants that were recently planted in the hours before sundown.  Amal paused as they stepped onto the balcony, looking at the sky.  Madhura took a moment to steal a glance toward the sea.  She remarked, “Oh, the sky is striking!”

Amal observed for a moment and responded, “Yes, the sea is like the blue-gray eyes of a great beast.  It is poised to rain torrents upon us tonight.”

Madhura looked at the young woman and remarked, “Wow!  That is poetic.  Do you write poetry?”

Embarrassed, Amal replied, “No, I have been closely observing sunsets lately.”

“Ok, but even people who watch sunsets aren’t so lyrical.  You should start writing poetry.  I think you would be good.”

“Oh no, no one would want to read it.”

“I would and I know other people who would like it too.  I’m in an online community to do book reviews and several of the people in our book club also write.  You could start putting what you write out there and see what people think.” 

“My husband would never allow it.”

“Who said he needs to know.  Everyone in our group uses fake names.  It keeps your identity safe.  He will never know. 

“What?  You?”

Madhura nodded her head.  “Daiwik was against the idea of me using anything other than Facebook to stay in touch with our children.  After a while, he met someone else whose wife regularly wrote stories under the name “Darla B.  She used the bare minimum of a personal description and she was going.  Then he warmed up to the idea.”  Madhura added with a laugh, “I was already in my book group by that time.”

The wheels were turning in Amal’s mind.  She felt she could do this.  It was nice to write her descriptions of the sunsets she saw.  Also, she believed what she wrote was good.  Only other people could validate that thought.  Did she dare try it?  What name would she use?

Jo March

The Blind Beggar: Part XXII

Across town, Amal wrestled with her emotions as her mind was pulled back to Ali’s touch when they were face to face for the first time in many years.  The trace of his fingers was still palpable.  She wanted to see him again but didn’t know how it could ever happen.  Since marrying before her sixteenth birthday, she suppressed her childhood dreams.  Now as an adult, she realized how few dreams she had.  She could reduce them all to one request.  She wanted to be happy. 

As a child, she was happy playing with her family, cousins and other friends.  She cherished memories of games, chasing one another and the simplicity of her life.  Her family wasn’t rich but they also weren’t poor.  Her father worked constantly to provide for his family.  He was a stern man.  He grew up in difficult circumstances and believed work, hard work, was the only way out of poverty.  He spent his life proving that belief.

Around time Amal began to understand her father’s regular absences were due to work that a young boy appeared while she and her cousins were playing.  Using her adult mind, she saw through her child’s eyes her first impressions of the boy.  She saw heartache but a strong hope for acceptance.  For about an hour, he sat on a low wall watching the chaotic actions of children at play.  How he must have wanted to be included.  How he must have wished someone would notice him sitting there.  Alone. 

She saw him.  She knew her cousins and family saw him but they continued playing.  After about thirty minutes, but children have little concept of time, there was a lull in the action.  Amal took that opportunity to walk up to the boy.  His eyes observed her movement toward him.  His eyes were hopeful and fearful at the same time.  He detected openness in her body language and not aggression.  Amal laughed at the moment now.  Children don’t care about protocol.  They go right to the point.  She walked up to him and asked, “You wanna play?”

The boy smiled, nodded and hopped down from the wall.  Amal grabbed his left hand and pulled him to the group.  She proudly called out to her family, “This is my new friend.”  Amal had forgotten it was more than a week before Ali felt comfortable arriving at the play area and joining in without being asked.  What had happened that he was so afraid to join in play with other children?  What had happened to Ali since then?

Like when they were children, Amal wanted to reach out to Boulos, her Ali, and protect him.  Was it a maternal instinct?  Though she felt free do that as a child, she knew to hide it from her parents.  She instinctively understood they would not approve.  She was certain her husband would never understand or accept.  Like her father, he worked hard to provide for his family and he sometimes had a temper.  

Per her nature, Amal lived her life trying to appease.  She always worked to alleviate potential problems before they happened.  Now she plainly saw two parts of her life colliding.  How could she stop this from happening?  She consigned herself to the belief she could never feel Ali’s touch but wanted to protect him as she once did.  If she tried, what would be the result of such a collision of worlds? 

Still, Amal wanted to be happy.  She could choose to keep her life the way it was.  She wasn’t overly happy but Amal loved her children.  They were the joy of her life.  She had grown comfortable in her circumstances and could be content if not happy.  However, if she chose to have contact with Ali, she could lose her only joy in life.   Amal, knew her path after seeing it all in plain terms. 

Again, she was resigned to do what was right.  Knowing it was right didn’t make acceptance any easier.  Part angry, part brokenhearted, Amal cried.  Again, she had no joy.  Again, she pushed down hopes and dreams.  It wasn’t fair but following her hopes and dreams, and accepting the consequences, wasn’t right.  Again, she would accept her lot in life and move forward. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXI

When isolated, there is no limit to where the mind can go.  Many dark places can be visited and known well.  He knew what it was to be ignored and feel he didn’t matter.  Boulos spent much of his life alone where the only conversation he had was with himself.  Having the recent positive attention was sweet nectar but so foreign.

Boulos pondered his present state.  He was a blind man befriended by several strangers and they all collaborated to make his life better.  He appreciated the home and job he had.  It was good to have purpose in his life.  For once, he finally had the smallest sliver of hope that his life had some meaning. 

Nevertheless, it mattered little to him.  Over and over in his mind he had one question.  Why?  Why God would allow Amal to bump into my life if she cannot be part of my life?  Is this not the cruelest of jokes a deity can play on a human?  God dangles love in front of the mortal and keeps it just out of reach.  Like an itch that cannot be scratched, Boulos felt it sheer madness.  It was utter cruelty.  Daiwik once told him the gods smiled on him.  They smiled because they were laughing.  They had laughed at him the whole of his life.

Born with a soft heart, Boulos felt things more deeply than most.  Each setback in life hurt him deeply.  How he wished for human kindness when he became an orphan.  Amal was that touch his wounded heart craved.  As the ever darkening clouds of blindness settled on him, Amal remained the light of his life.  How he cried the evening Amal told him of the day she would marry.  The very words shattered his heart but in his love for her, he could not bear to put any burden upon her.  Therefore, he calmly spoke words of sense and assurance.  It was best for her to marry another.  He lied. 

He spoke truth in that it was good for Amal to have a man who would and could provide a life for her.  Boulos knew we could never do that.  His lie was in appearing to be ok with the thought.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.  How Boulos wanted to shower Amal with love.  How he wished he could hold her, touch her, kiss her.  With every fiber of his being he wished the universe had given him a different life. 

The questions he had then returned anew.  Why was he given this life?  Why must he be the one to suffer such anguish?  Sitting on the bed facing the window, he felt the breeze upon his skin.  He noted the cool streaks that ran from his eyes to his lips.  He tasted his tears.  He believed the salty taste to be a reminder he would forever be preserved in a life of brokenness.  Even when things got better, they remained the same.   

The Blind Beggar: Part XX

Later that night, Charles and Rima discussed the matter of Boulos’s request to get Amal’s contact information.  In the beginning, Charles expressed his desire to find a way to grant the wish of a man who had lived a difficult life.  In his heart, he believed there must be a way.  The couple had a long discussion about the issue.  Though he didn’t want to admit it, Charles knew the right thing to do.  He simply wanted to do something nice for Boulos.  Reality set in when Rima said, “We cannot be a part of this.  You must tell Boulos we will not help him.”

“That sounds rather harsh, don’t you think?”

“You must close the door to this.  If he thinks there is hope he may continue trying to reach Amal.  That must not happen.”

Charles was feeling anger rise in him as a defense mechanism but upon hearing his wife mention Boulos may continue trying to reach Amal, he understood her position.  The heat of his anger subsided and he was resigned to accept her wisdom.  He briefly considered the situation and said, “Then I’ll have to think of how to break the news to him.”

“Yes.”

“Good thing I brought you along.”

“Yes, you’d be lost.  Also, if you left me back in the states, my father would hunt you down.”  They both smiled. 

The next day after Boulos arrived at the apartment, Charles knocked on the door connecting his apartment to the office.  Boulos began to invite Charles into the apartment when Charles said, “Actually, would you sit with me here on our couch?  I have coffee for us to share.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Boulos believed Charles reached a decision and based on the formality of the invitation, was certain of the outcome.  After they each had the first sip of coffee, Charles began, “My wife and I had a long discussion about your request.”  He paused, not wanting to hurt his new friend’s feelings.

“Yes.”

“I hope you will understand that we cannot help you get information for you to contact Amal.  I’m very sorry.  I really wanted to help you but we can’t.”

The reality of the news hit Boulos harder than expected.  He felt his heart drop.  Maybe it broke, he was not sure.  Charles looked at his friend.  He could see the disappointment in his face.  He wanted to offer hope.  As a Christian, he believed all things were possible with God.  He considered saying, ‘I’ll pray for you’ but the words seemed so hollow. 

Finally, he said, “Boulos, I am so sorry.  I know this isn’t the news you wanted.  I feel like crap having to say it.  I wish I could say something that would make you feel better but I can’t give you false hope.  I believe in a Savior who is the hope for this fallen world.  So I hope you place your trust in God.  Meanwhile, I will be your friend if you will accept me as your friend.”

“It was not right for me to ask such a thing.  I am sorry for doing so.  It would not be right for Amal to speak with me.  I don’t believe she would if she had the chance.  A single man should not communicate with a married woman.”  The young man sighed.  His hope was gone.  Now what would he do?

The Blind Beggar: Part XIX

Charles Rayner was taken aback by the request.  When he earlier offered to contact someone for Boulos, he never imagined the request would be for a childhood love who is now married.  Charles had grown fond of Boulos in the two weeks he had lived in the old apartment.  While he wanted to help, there were other matters to consider.

First and foremost, there was the issue of how to get the information.   Charles knew it would not look good for him to knock on the front door and ask for someone’s personal information.  His wife Rima, whose family was Lebanese, might know a way to make it happen but he still saw that as a tall order. 

Then there was the concern of allowing a man to contact the wife of another man when there once was a romantic relationship.  As a Christian, this did not seem a good idea.  The final thought concerned him most.  That issue was the mere fact if Boulos contacted Amal and her husband found out, he might learn how Boulos got this information.  Even if their intentions were genuine, it would not be good for Christian missionaries to be meddling in the affairs of love.  He and Rima believed in God’s call for them to work in Lebanon.  They could not knowingly damage the work they hoped to accomplish in the name of Jesus. 

Even still, he wanted to help Boulos.  He also felt the need to be completely honest and explained his concerns.  Boulos agreed with Charles about the dangers.  Boulos took in this information and said, “Mr. Charles, thank you for your honesty.  My request puts you in a bad place.  I was not properly thinking and I am sorry.  I want you to know that, while it would make me very happy to speak with Amal whenever I want to, I never intended to break her marriage.”

Charles could feel Boulos wanted to say more.  He prompted, “Ok, but.”

“Mr. Charles, I am embarrassed to say but I miss seeing sunsets.  It is foolish.  I know it is but Amal used to describe them to me when we were young.  I have asked family members and even strangers before to describe them to me.  No one makes me see them like Amal.  She describes sunsets to me like an artist who paints them.  She cared about what she saw and how she described it.  I know this and it warmed my heart.”

Charles sighed.  “I take my vision for granted.  I never considered how a scene like a sunset would be so important but now I guess I can believe it would be.  I don’t know Boulos.  I’m sure you agree I can’t contact Amal directly and I sure can’t go to her husband.” 

“That is true, Mr. Charles.” 

“I honestly planned to keep this between you and me but I don’t think I can help you without enlisting someone else.  I’d like to ask my wife’s opinion.”

“Mrs. Rima is a good woman.  Women know how to get what they want when they really want it.”

Laughing, Charles replied, “Are you sure you haven’t been married before.” 

The Blind Beggar: Part XVIII

Boulos was surprised he didn’t detect Charles was back in the room.  Perhaps the explosion and shock wave affected his ears.  His ears were ringing.  Charles could sense Boulos was distraught and presumed it was due to the recent events.  He walked to the bed and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?  You are obviously troubled.”

Embarrassed, Boulos replied, “The explosion did scare me.  Stepping on the glass embarrasses me.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.  I feel I should have known.  The whole thing is so unnormal.  My mind is scattered.”

“Who is Amal?  Is there someone I can call to see if she is ok?”

Would a Christian understand the story?  Still, it is a story Boulos shared with no one.  He tried to brush it aside.  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“Really, it is nothing.”

“Boulos, its ok.  You can tell me.  No one else will ever know, not even my wife.”

Something in the tone of his voice told Boulos Charles sincerely cared.  He was trustworthy.  Only genuine trust and care would allow him to tell the story.  “Amal is a girl I knew when I was young.  My parents died and I lived wherever I could for many years.  Much of the time it was on the streets.  Amal and her family befriended me and we fell in love but her father had her marry another man.”

“I’m so sorry.  All of that must have been so hard.  How old were you when your parents died.”

“About 8, I guess.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry.  I can’t even imagine.  Tell me about Amal.”

Boulos considered the request.  Could he properly explain his joy if he ever regained his sight?  For some things, there are no words.  He began, “I was allowed to play with Amal and her family.  There was a separation between us, I knew that.  I mean, I knew I could never enter their home but Amal accepted me right away.  Her siblings and cousins also did soon after.  Amal cared enough to sneak food to me.  I don’t know.  I guess it was her care for me that made me fall in love with her.”

“Love triumphs over all.”

“Yes it does.  Because of her care for me, I’ve always tried to care for others.  I lived with my uncle for some years and I tried to care for him as Amal did for me.  It seemed the best way I could honor her love.”

Charles marveled at the thought and said, “You know, you’d make a good Christian.”

“What?” 

“Seriously!  Jesus said we are to love one another as He loved us.  Too many Christians don’t understand that and yet you live it without knowing the command.  I’d rather work with you than all those Christians who only think of themselves.”

Not knowing how to respond, Boulos simply said, “Thank you.”

“Have you ever seen Amal since?”

Boulos again hesitated.  It was one thing to talk of the past.  The present was another matter.  He briefly considered denying his recent contact with Amal.  Then he realized this could be the opportunity he hoped for.  “We briefly met a few weeks ago.  She lives in the same building as Mr. Daiwik.”

Disbelieving, Charles gasped, “What?”

“It is true.  Mrs. Madhura, Mr. Daiwik’s wife, allowed us a brief meeting.”

“After all these years?  That’s crazy.”

“Mr. Charles, I do not lie.  I speak the truth.”

“No, no, I believe you.  It is just incredible.”

“Yes, it is.”  Boulos considered the consequences of the question he wanted to ask.  He proceeded anyway.  “Mr. Charles, can you help me get Amal’s phone number or email so I may communicate with her with my iPad?”

The Blind Beggar: Part XVII

Boulos dreamed of working with Khalid at the store.  The two of them were discussing some new merchandise when Boulos realized he could see.  He normally saw events in his dreams but in this case, he consciously knew he himself was seeing.  It wasn’t that he was observing the events from afar.  He could see again. 

Realizing this brought him to a different state of sleep.  The dream started to fade when a tremendous booming sound jolted him fully awake.  In an instant he sat up in the bed when the shock wave from the explosion hit his apartment.  Glass in the windows shattered and he heard the shards of glass hit the floor. 

Car alarms rang in his ears and he heard voices shouting in the distance.  His heart pounding, Boulos anxiously contemplated what he should do.  The sound of a crying baby met his ears and he remembered when a similar event happened before his parents died.  He saw the fear in his mother’s eyes and heard his father shout in anger at the damn Israelis again launching some attack.  His father lost both parents during the Israeli occupation in the early 1980s and often cursed Israel when he was angry. 

He could hear someone wailing in a way only those who have lost someone in a horrible fashion can understand.  It is a language all its own but once heard, one never forgets it.  It speaks without words and goes directly to the depths of the soul.  Primal fears gripped Boulos as noises outside got louder. 

Sirens from emergency vehicles accosted his senses.  He stood up from the bed and promptly stepped on glass with his bare feet.  He immediately flopped back onto his bed and gently probed the soles of his feet for glass.  Each sliver seemed to go straight to the bone.  Dejected and fearful, he shuddered.  He didn’t know what to do.  Certain there were more seriously injured people outside in the area of the blast, Boulos decided to wait until morning and ask Daiwik what he should do. 

Shortly thereafter, Daiwik sent a message checking on Boulos.  Boulos explained the situation with his feet and shattered windows.  As this text conversation was going on, Boulos heard the lock to the door to the office open and Charles entered and called out to Boulos.  “Boulos, its Charles.  Are you ok?”

“Hello Mr. Charles.  I am ok but I stepped on some glass.”

“May I come in your room?”

“Yes, please.”  Boulos was happy to have someone with him. 

Charles entered Boulos’s room from his office.  Boulos heard him stand still for a moment after opening the door.  He believed Charles was surveying the damage.  Then Charles said, “Well, it looks like we lost all the windows.  We’ll need to replace the curtains too.  Let’s take a look at your feet.”

“Your family is ok, Mr. Charles?”

“Yes, we are all fine.  I thought I dreamed the blast.  Too bad it wasn’t a dream, huh?

“Yes, Mr. Charles.  I was dreaming when it happened and it scared me very much.”

Charles placed his hand on Boulos’s shoulder and said, “Everything will be ok.  I believe in a God in heaven who is bigger than the schemes of people who only want to kill and destroy.”

The remark caught Boulos off guard but said nothing.  Then began a text conversation Boulos had with Daiwik while Charles removed glass slivers from his feet.  Daiwik wanted Boulos to ask Charles if anything was needed.  Charles had looked over the building when he arrived and it appeared broken windows were the only issue.  He would address them when the city woke up for the day.  During this time, Boulos received more messages from other people who had helped him.  He was not used to the technology and, due to the delay of having Siri read each message, the whole process was cumbersome. 

After the splinters were removed and feet bandaged, Charles started cleaning up the glass in the apartment.  Once this was completed, Charles began working in the office.  Meanwhile, Boulos lay in the bed.  He could only think of Amal’s safety.  He was sure, due to the approximate location of the blast, her building was not damaged and she was safe.  Nevertheless, he feared she was injured.  His only thought was, “My Amal, I so hope you are ok.”  Over and over the thought repeated in his mind.  It was his sincere hope, a prayer.  Only when Charles spoke up, did he realize he was actually whispering his thoughts.

“Who is Amal?  A friend of yours?”

A New Story: More Clouds Than Sun

Marsha continued, “And another thing.  You are a mealy mouthed..”

The waitress approached with a smile and asked, “Are you ready to order?”  Then, seeing humiliation in Bob’s eyes and sensing something wasn’t right, she added, “I can come back if you need more time.”

Bob had lost his appetite and wanted to leave.  Marsha said, “Oh I know what I want darlin’.  Are you ready, Bob?”

He glared at her in disbelief and shook his head.  The waitress took that as her cue to walk away.  Bob began, “What kind of demented person are you?  You go off on me and the moment someone else will see who you really are, you become this sweet, southern belle.  I’m mealy mouthed?  At least I’m not two faced.  All you are is a façade.  You are a whitewashed tomb.  You just TRY to be pretty on the outside but you are death on the inside.”  Marsha started to protest but Bob’s voice rose, “I came here thinking we really had a chance at reconciliation but I see you are only care for yourself and your whole plan was to stab me in the back.  I may have screwed up but you are a screwed up person.”

Bob started to get up from his chair when Marsha reached out her arm and stopped him, “Bob, wait, please.  Please, wait a minute.  I’m sorry.  You leaving hurt me deeply.  Guess I’m acting on that.”  Tears began to well up in her eyes but she fought them as she continued, “I can’t bear the thought of divorce but I don’t see how to get passed this.  I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I honestly can’t stand to be with you but I can’t stand the alternative.”

“I can understand that.”

There was silence between them as they pondered the meaning.  The waitress returned cautiously.  “Is everything ok?  Are you ready to order?”

Her question brought them to the present and Bob suddenly felt hungry.  Perhaps a good meal would help them both.  He would get the meal he normally ordered.  Hearing Bob’s order, Marsha placed hers.  She then looked at Bob and smiled weakly. 

After the waitress left, Marsha softly asked, “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know but I remember my grandma often saying how she and grandpa used to fight a lot.  He used to say it’s ok to fight as long as you keep talking.  The real problems start when you stop talking.  Maybe that’s why we have real problems now.  We stopped talking a long time ago.”

“I’ve been bugging you to talk to me since we’ve been married.”

“And you never noticed the times I did.”

“What?  You’re crazy!”

“Am I?  I remember many times coming home and telling you about my day.  I’d tell you all these stupid details about crap at the office, just like you always tell me.”  Marsha started to protest the remark but held her tongue.  Bob continued, “Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?  I’d say all the stuff and then you’d start in on your day and never acknowledge what I did.  Telling you about my day is not normal for me.  The only acknowledgement you’ve ever given me is when I didn’t do something or did something wrong.  I got tired of only hearing crap from you so I just stopped talking altogether.  Whatever I did was wrong anyway.” 

Bob could feel anger rise in him as he said this and it caused him to stop.  The two again sat in silence.  When the meals arrived, they ate in silence.  Finally, Marsha said, “I’m sorry.”  Surprised, Bob automatically replied, “Its ok.”

As the couple was leaving, Bob looked at the television above the hostess stand.  The weather forecast was being given.  He looked at it for a minute and smiled.  Then he stopped Marsha and pointed to the TV.  She looked at it and asked, “What?”

“Don’t you see the forecast?  More clouds than sun.  I can identify.”

The Blind Beggar: Part XVI

The next day at work, Boulos learned more about using the iPad from the Muslim businessman’s son, Khalid.  Boulos believed it could add a new dimension to life but, due to its limitations, he decided not to use it unless he needed to contact Daiwik.  What he wanted was the ability to communicate with Amal.  Boulos asked, “The iPad knows who Mr. Daiwik is but doesn’t know my family members.”

“You want to contact your family.”

“Why not?  Say I wish to contact my mother, Amal.  How would I do that?”

“Your mother is still alive.”

“No, she died when I was young, but my point is, why doesn’t the iPad recognize people I wish to contact.”

“Oh, once you add the contact information for anyone, the iPad can help you contact them.  This iPad only uses wifi so there are some limits but you can send texts or emails to people in your contacts when you have their email or phone numbers.  There are other apps that would allow you to make phone calls too.”

“How do I get this information?”

“You mean contact information?”

“Yes.”

“Just ask for it.  I can help you add people once you get their information.”

“Thank you.  It is that simple?”

“Yes, it is pretty easy.”

While it was nice to know communicating with Amal was still possible, how could he get this information?

Amal and Madhura sat talking and sipping coffee.  As usual, they discussed their herb gardens.  Then the conversation turned to weather.  A cold front had moved into the area.  Madhura was certain Amal would want news of Boulos.  She began, “You know, Boulos has moved into an apartment that is part of the Christian group downtown.  That must make you happy since the weather has been cold.”

Since seeing Ali and actually speaking with him, Amal’s mind was consumed by the thought of being with him again.  She couldn’t betray her feelings.  She simply said, “Yes, it is good he has permanent shelter.  I am very happy for him.” 

Madhura smiled and added, “Daiwik gave him an iPad to contact him if he needs something.” 

Amal reacted to this information.  “Really, can he use it?  How does a blind man feel the smooth screen and use it.”

“Daiwik, showed him how to use the iPad’s assistant so they can send messages.  Boulos can dictate messages and the assistant will read messages.”

“That was very nice of your husband to give the iPad.”

“It was my daughter’s but she doesn’t use it.  At least someone can make use of it.”

Amal pondered the possibilities of communicating with Ali via the iPad.  To be able to talk with him as they did when they were children thrilled her.  She thought to herself how sweet it would be to know his thoughts and share hers. 

Amal’s husband sat at his desk at work thinking about recent events.  He noticed his wife’s unusual behavior.  At first, he only noted she was more quiet than normal.  She was also moody.  It wasn’t until he suggested she take the children to meet the blind man at the maintenance man’s apartment he began to suspect something.  It was then he remembered the approximate start of her odd behavior.  It began when the blind man appeared.  Blind beggars aren’t a normal sight.  Therefore, the timeframe stood out to him.  Still, he couldn’t imagine how the blind man could have caused such problems.  He felt the need to watch his wife closely. 

Teardrop of Light

#INSPIREDBYYOU #PHOTOPROMPT

Teardrop of Light

A child of magic

Because he was different

He was so forlorn

 

He was locked away

Unable to see the world

And he feared his gift

 

Sometimes he made light

Often, he made waters dance

Soon he saw the joy

 

His gift made him glad

And from the joy that he felt

It poured from his heart

 

Still isolated

He made his new creation

A teardrop of light

 

The world saw the light

The beam drew them to the source

Then they saw the tear

 

Hands that understand

There is bitterness to life

Can make such beauty

 

And so the world saw

A man who understood it

The teardrop of light

Copyright Feb 2017 DWP

A New Story: Uncommon Ground

Bob and Marsha agreed to meet for dinner at a favorite restaurant.  Bob arrived first and got a table.  After he was seated, the waitress came and asked for their drink orders.  Bob knew what Marsha normally wanted.  Had this taken place a few days ago, he would have ordered her drink and thought nothing of it.  Things were different now.  If he ordered for her, would Marsha think him presumptuous?

Suddenly, the whole dinner and meeting seemed more difficult than he ever imagined.  It was only a few days ago he walked out on Marsha.  Then the next day, he took all the money.  The talk with his brother made him realize his errors but now it all seemed to be crashing down on him.  More than ever, he was hopeful Marsha genuinely wanted reconciliation. 

When he saw Marsha enter the restaurant, he stood and waved to her.  He felt his heart begin to pound.  He laughed to himself his heart did that when they were young and in love.  Marsha saw him and started walking to the table.  He tried to read her face for a sign of her mood or intentions.  Nothing registered. 

As she was reaching the table, Bob was unsure how to greet her.  More and more, he felt like an ass for his actions.  His gut reaction was to kiss her as he always did but that seemed wrong now.  Instead, he remained standing when she arrived and pulled out the chair for her.  He quietly said, “Hello Marsha.  You look good tonight.”

“Thank ya darlin’.  So do you.”

There was a moment of silence as each fought to find a way to break the ice.  Finally, Bob blurted, “I’ve been an ass.”  He continued speaking but Marsha had to interject, “Yes, ya have.”

“I know and I’m sorry.  I don’t know what happened.  Something inside me just snapped.  It was bad enough I walked out but to take all the money like that.  God, what a stupid, bone headed thing to do.  I can’t apologize enough.  Will you ever forgive me?”

Marsha looked at him for a moment saying nothing.  She was still hurt and angry over the whole incident.  She began by saying, “Ya stabbed me in the back you bastard.  I didn’t’ think anyone would ever hurt me the way you did and you think you can apologize and everything will be ok?”

Bob hoped for common ground and an equal standing with Marsha but again felt he was on the defensive.  He stammered, “Well, no, no.  I don’t think that at all.  For now, I am admitting I was wrong and asking for forgiveness.  I’m not saying things will be easy but am I the only one who thinks we’ve been goin’ through the motions the last couple years?” 

“Ok, fine.  I agree we have just been roommates since the kids moved out but, dammit, how could you do what you did?”

Bob’s defenses were rapidly going up but he didn’t want to make a scene in the restaurant.  He was happy they were in a public place or who knew what would happen?  He remained silent and stealthily looked around to see if anyone suspected the conversation happening in their part of the restaurant. 

Marsha spoke in sharp but even tones.  “You screwed yourself this time mister.  I am going to crucify you.  Do you hear me?  I am going to crucify you.  You left that house like a madman screaming at the top of your lungs that you were leaving.  That was bad enough.  Then you took all the money.  Do you have any idea what that did?  That was the most stressful day of my life and you added to it with compound interest.”

Bob looked downcast and replied, “I truly am sorry, Marsha.  I really am and if I could go back and change it, I would.  What can I do now to make it better?”

“You can go to hell, that’s what you can do."