Page 39 of Scar

She felt her mystery man’s presence as soon as she exited the bedroom in the morning. “Did you sleep on the couch?”

Though she wasn’t surprised she got no answer, it didn’t stop her from hoping for one. Still in her pajamas, Tally made her way into the kitchen. It was after seven and she was dragging her feet, even though she’d technically slept in from her normal alarm.

The smell of coffee drew her over to the coffee pot. Her favorite morning blend was a dark hazelnut roast from Hawaii. From the weight of the pot, it was still full.

“Do you want coffee?” Though she got no answer, Tally grabbed a second mug and poured it. “I drink it black but Simone’s got some creamer in my fridge if you want it. Sugar’s in the cabinet on the right of the fridge.”

She put the mug on the island in open invitation before getting the ingredients out for her breakfast. Though she was as American as they came, she never understood her country’s insistence of putting cheese on everything. Her morning omelet was richer without the overwhelming sharp tang of cheese. Tally topped the mushroom and scallion omelet with finely diced tomatoes before placing the plate on the island next to the untouched cup of coffee.

Turning back towards the range, Tally bit her lip in worry. She didn’t know why it meant so much to her that he hadn’t eaten the sandwich she’d made him the day before. She was willing to forgive him since she suspected he’d cleaned up and organized the chaos that had accumulated on her desk, but it still…bothered her.

“I was born blind. Did you know that? There’s more than one reason a personisblind, as well as different levels of blindness. I was born with Double Anophthalmia, which means my eyes were nevermade. Microphthalmia is when the eye develops but it’s too small and/or has limited or no vision. For me,” she waved her hand in front of her face, “I got nothing. Just two holes in my head where my eyes never formed.

“I got my first set of prosthetics when I was about eighteen months old. They’re there to be more than a way to fit in with society, too. They also protect my eye sockets from getting anything in them and to help my eyelids form. Because I got them so young, I’m told my eyelids developed normally and don’t droop.

“Have you seen my collection of eyeballs?” Tally giggled to herself as she plated her breakfast. “It really freaks people out when I wear different colors, but what really gets people are the ones that look like ‘demon’ eyes.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen demon eyes, so what do I know, but I’ll gladly scare the crap out of people who piss me off by wearing them.”

Turning off the burner, she put the dirty skillet on a silicone mat to cool. Holding her coffee in one hand and her plate in the other, Tally confidently moved around the island to the second stool on the left. She had four high-back stools at the island, which left two potential seats to her right.

Tally took a sip of her coffee before starting her breakfast. “My parents were awesome. Knowing how much time and extra attention I would need, they decided not to have any more kids. One of my first memories is sitting on my dad’s lap as he read me a children’s story.”

It was faint, but she caught the slight scraping of the plate being moved across the counter and then the groan of metal as the stool on the far right accepted someone’s weight.

Tally quickly scooped some of her omelet into her mouth to hide her smile. He didn’t have to drink the coffee, not everyone liked coffee, but hewaseating the omelet. Happiness and satisfaction filled her.

Not wanting to draw attention to him, Tally continued speaking, “It’s a common misconception that someone who is blind only sees black. First of all, I’ve never seenblackso I have no idea what black is to be able to tell you if that’s the color that’s in my head. I understand the idea of colors, but colors in and of themselves don’t matter to me the way sighted people think of them. I know that the sky is blue and the grass is green,” she held up her fork, “that my omelet is yellow, but I don’t reallycare. To me, the sky is the sky, the grass is the grass, and my omelet,” she popped her fork into her mouth, “is fucking tasty because I’m awesome.”

She chewed for a moment before swallowing. “But I dosee. It might not be the world you know, but it’s my world. Everything has a sound, a vibration. Smells, tastes, feels…That’smy world. My senses all help me to create an image inside my head. That image has definitionanddetail.” She clicked her tongue several times. “For instance, I can’t tell you what color your eyes are, but I know you have short hair.” She clicked her tongue again, picking up the acoustical signature of her mystery man. “You’re wearing long sleeves and there’s something on your chest, like a vest maybe.” She turned her head, continuing to click her tongue. “And you’ve eaten almost half your omelet.” Tally couldn’t keep the smile off of her face as she spoke those words.

“My parents thought I was nuts when I said I wanted to become a chef. I think I was three or four when my grandma started to teach me to cook. It was a peach pie, by the way. The first thing I’d ever made. We were following her recipe and it was incredible. I couldsmellthe individual ingredients and then the combination of them. I just... Iknew.” She tapped the table with her middle finger for emphasis. “I knew that this was what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t about finding a job that I could do just as good or better than a sighted person. It was about what mademehappy. And cooking made me happy.

“It still does,” she added before taking her last bite of her omelet. “I’m not saying it wasn’t hard. I have alotof scars on my body that tell you all about my mishaps.” Tally rolled up her pajama sleeve to reveal a faded burn mark on her right forearm. “Got that when I was ten and knocked a pot of burning oil over.” She put her sleeve back down. “It could have been a lot worse. Anyway, no profession is without risk and I knew that I would have trials learning mine that no other chef would have. Or very few,” she corrected.

Tally stood to pick up her plate and carry it to the sink. When she asked her phone the time, she was startled to learn how late it was. “Fuck! I need to get in the shower!”

Leaving the dishes behind, Tally hurried into her bedroom to get her clothes for the day and then headed into the bathroom. She skipped shaving, not having the time. Her long hair, though thick, thankfully air-dried in a couple of hours. Blow drying was not an option for her, but not because of her blindness. Her mother had taught her at a young age that her hair type did not handle blow drying well.

Feeling spry, Tally put her cat eyeballs in for the day. That decision might have also been made because she knew that Noah was on the schedule again for the dinner shift.

Hurrying into the kitchen to clean up, Tally stopped when she realized that everything was put away already. Clicking her tongue, she found no dishes on the counter or in the sink. The skillet she’d used to make breakfast was hanging on the wall in its place.

Running her hand over the coffee maker, she discovered it was off and the grounds were tossed out. A travel mug was sitting on the island as if waiting for her. There was something else next to it, but it was too small for her to detect what it was. The way it was curled, she thought at first that it might be a ring, but it didn’t sound like it was metal.

Her fingers recognized the tape from her braille labeler immediately. The parchment paper was still on the back of the sticker. Her fingers ran over the distinctive bumps.

???????

Thank you

Tally’s chin quivered as she continued to feel the message over and over again. Two simple and small words that meant the world to her. She wished she could remove the sticker paper and adhere the label to her palm so she could feel it throughout the day.

But that was neither possible nor sanitary. Instead, she removed the back paper and placed the label on the inside of the left shoulder strap of the tank top she wore under her chef’s shirt. That way, she could feel it against her skin all day.

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[WiseWave620: Did you know I don’t have any tattoos? I tried when I first joined the club, but I freaked out when Angel brought the needle anywhere close to me.]

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