by Minnie Teng
Nonsense. What light? What warmth? What glittering sea? My butt! It’s May – or so I was told – and summer was
approaching.
The others in the Club were not like me; they had been able to see… once upon a time. Accidents happened and
destroyed their eyesight. I, on the other hand, was born without ever seeing my parents, or any part of the world.
Every year for fifty years I’ve been hearing about summer, winter, fall, and … what, autumn? No, spring. I can’t tell the difference between spring and fall – the temperature is almost the same. Daniel had said that he could tell: Spring is green, fall is red. (Well, one of his eyes is still intact.)
“What’s red? What’s green? For crying out loud, I can’t see!” I had hissed, exasperated.
“Red is like blood; green is like grass…” There’s one thing you should know about blind men:
they are never good with descriptions. I mean, what kind of answer was that?
I had cut him off by telling him to go to the devil.
I have a motto: “every blind man should be cynical.” Well, what’s not to doubt? One can’t simply believe what another says to be entirely true! The summer they speak so excitedly of may be a super heater or something. Who can see for sure? Certainly not me.
By the way, this ridiculous club that I have joined – the Love. B. Club (told you it’s absurd) had announced a summer trip to the local beach. I am ashamed to admit that I’ve never been to the Summer Beach before even though I was born and raised here.
The name of this small club was given by a boisterous (and somehow annoying) new volunteer, Liz.
One day Grumpy George murmured the good old saying “Love is blind” while reading the Braille version of Jane Eyre. Liz suddenly jumped up and declared that she had an idea for the Club’s name.
“We already have a name, sweetie,” Rosemary said.
“‘Blind Club’? It sounds so… unromantic, how about Love club? Love is blind!!” Liz pushed on.
“What if people call to the reception desk and ask for their perfect match? Love Club sounds like a dating company! No, absolutely no.” Carol the receptionist retorted.
“Okay, how about…”
“Love Blind Club?” I intervened impatiently.
“Yeah! Love B. Club!! Good one, Alex!” Liz exclaimed and clapped.
And hence the Club is referred to as “Love B. Club”.
I never cared much for outdoor pursuits. “Sightseeing”, eh? Not much of an appeal for a blind old geezer like me. I had refused to go to the troublesome beach at first… but even Grumpy George was getting all hyped up for it, so I submitted my form as well (with much reluctance).
Everyone in the Club was doing a countdown for the trip day. I even heard Grumpy George humming Girl from Ipanema during shower one day.
Perhaps I sighed unconsciously or grumbled, a voice came into my ears and I turned.
“Hey, Alex, what are you doing?” It was Liz, the new volunteer girl.
“Reading,” I said dryly.
“…Oliver Twist, did you finish the book?”
“I think so.” I always read halfway through a book and consider it finished. Well, half is good enough to me.
“Whatcha talking ‘bout?” Grumpy George’s voice came ringing in our ears.
“Grandpa George!” Liz clamored, “Alex is reading Oliver Twist.”
“Oh yes, a very good Dickens’ book, eh?”
I uttered a yes.
“Is it a comedy, or tragedy?” Liz asked.
“Comedy,” Grumpy George said.
“Tragedy,” I said.
We both cleared out throats at the same time as if preparing for a drastic debate.
“Buddy, did you honestly read the book at all?” Grumpy George raised his voice.
“Yes, of course! I have the same question to ask you.” I responded bitterly.
Grumpy George got the book from me and felt the bookmark, frowning, he said “You’re halfway through the novel,
Alex.”
“So? Halfway is more than enough, I can already predict the ending!”
Grumpy George grunted and I heard footsteps walking slowly away.
“So… what did you predict?” Liz inquired, trying to break the tension lingering in the air.
“Oliver Twist dies penniless, duh.” I grumbled and tossed the book aside.
“That’s not the ending, is it?” Liz questioned, “I’ve watched a movie about it. Oliver found his parents, and they lived
happily ever after.” She continued on with her blind optimism.
“Yeah? Charles Dickens ain’t dumb enough to believe in happily-ever-afters’! I hooted.
“Alex, you really have to read the book thoroughly.” Liz said gently.
I mumbled something that was not even audible to myself and wished that she would just leave me alone.
“Being born blind isn’t a curse, you know. When whoever that creates us forgets to put something in a human being,
they give something else as amendment… you just have to see it. That’s all.” Liz asserted.
“… See it? See what? I’ve never even seen myself!” I snapped.
“That’s why you should see even more carefully… who I see now, right in front of me, isn’t a blind man… I see a
friend who cares so much about the outside that he forgets about what’s important.”
I did not say a word.
I heard light footsteps trotting slowly away.
On the day to the Summer Beach, I remained silent all the way on the bus. I thought I saw someone smiling at me,
but a thought quickly hit me and I realized I was blind and smiled bitterly.
When we arrived at the beach, Liz led us all to the big wooden board that – I was told – have large letters of “SUMMER BEACH” painted on it.
Carol wanted all of us to stand around the board so she could take a group picture for the brochure.
I put my hand on the corner of the huge board and felt something from the tips of my fingers. Such familiarity…
It was Braille.
I moved my hand back and forth to get the complete context, it read:
“WELCOME TO SUMMER”
At that instant, somewhere deep within me, I thought I feel the summer everyone was talking about… the dazzling rays of sunshine, the golden sand and the blue sea… I didn’t feel like snorting at the description of colors anymore. I felt… certain.
I haven’t felt the watering of my eyes for decades. That day, I cried. Hot, salty tears streaming down my cheeks, at least, I thought, these tears come from me; they are substantial, NO doubt.
I should have come here years ago… and I’d better finish the other half of Oliver Twist. They say that under the sunlight is the best place to read, why, for once – and may many more to come – I have no doubt about that.
The End