Pretty Mary Perfect Imperfection

I don't know what I expect of people or what they could possibly do that would feel right. Maybe there is no feeling right. Maybe it's not up to me to decide how they handle it. Maybe I think too fucking much. It's hard not to when you're locked inside your head, shutters closed, curtains drawn forever. Nothing will ever be the same but my friends at least behave like it's all normal pretty much.

'Och come with us tonight Brendy. You know we'll have a laugh. That band is playing that you like, 'The Aztecs' and drinks are half price from 8 till 9. Come on...!'

An invisible fist squeezes my heart. This is Lizzie pleading with me to go. The most popular girl in our group, the girl I always wanted since high school, who I wanted to hear pleading in a very different way. She's a heart of gold. A playful cheeky character. I remember her wavy golden hair that always seemed to flow around her face. The slight twist of her front tooth. Her little tinkerbell tattoo on her ankle. Those beautiful long legs. And her forever smiling eyes.

Of course I will go.

'All right then. Why not. Shall I meet you's there or are you getting a taxi? What's the craic?'

It had been a low week for me, one of many but I was starting to feel a growing enthusiasm at the thought of doing something normal.

'Pfff...' she said. 'Taxi? Fuck that. I'll drive us there. We can get a taxi back and Suzy can take me to lift it in the morning. We'll pick you up at 7:30. Make sure you're ready. I know how long that hair of yours takes to reach the required state of perfection.'

She giggled and I smiled at her teasing.

'Cheeky wee baitch,' I laughed. 'Ok, I'll be ready at 8:30.'

'I can see we will have our hands full with you tonight,' she said, slapping my leg.'7:30 sharp. And behave.'

'Yes Ma'am.'

As it was, they were fifteen minutes late. I wasn't bothered. It gave me extra time to get myself organised. It was a major squeeze in the car. Janine, one of our other friends, is a large lady; all curves and impenetrable clouds of perfume. I can hear her earrings jingle as she talks ten to the dozen. I love her exuberance. She's remonstrating with Paul sitting on the other side of us, regarding some necklace he's wearing that I clearly can't see. Apparently, 'it just don't vibe' with the rest of the outfit he's wearing.

I can't see the faces of the others sitting up front but I'm willing to bet they're smirking at Janine's supreme confidence that given the right opportunity she could dress Hollywood stars.

I'm glad I came.

Once inside Pretty Mary's, the place is just warming up. Not too busy but there are more people drifting in by the minute. I love the sounds of the band setting up. The sheer concentration because they want everything to be just right. Amps put in place. Guitars plugged in and tuned. Mics tested.

'One, two, one, two.'

My excitement is building. Something bumps our table. There's a giggle. Of course, it's Lizzie.

'No starting steady tonight ladies and gents. I got us some baby guinnesses. Haha!'

Janine groans.

'Not that shit.'

'Just be grateful hi and drink it.'

She shoves one into my palm and does a count down.

'One, two, three -- go!'

I neck it, appreciating the burn and slam the glass down on the table a little harder than I intended.

'Woo! Keep them coming!' I laugh.

Janine snorts. 'No thanks. I'll go get us a proper drink.'

The place is definitely getting busier which makes me a little uneasy. I don't want my friends too drunk. As if reading my thoughts, Paul leans in next to me.

'Don't worry mate, we'll have a good time. Everything will be cool.'

I nod and fiddle with my walking cane.

'Course.'

Janine returns and announces her purchase -- Jawbox gin, with fevertree tonic and juniper berries. Doubles. Several of us choke on the first sip.

'Now that is how it's done my boys n girls,' she says with a chuckle.

'Holy Christ. Are you trying to kill us?' cries Dave, still choking.

I hear someone patting him on the back.

Liz suddenly pipes up, a little alarmed.

'I know we only just bought drinks, but the half price promo ends in ten minutes and the bar is packed. We should go get another order.'

'I'll do it. One of you come with me,' I say.

'No Brendy, me and Paul will go,' says Dave.

Probably seeing my offended frown, Paul suggests the three of us go. It's agreed.

I grip the edge of the table tentatively, adjudging it sturdy enough to hold my weight, I use it to pull myself up to standing position. I can sense Paul and Dave nearby, ever watchful. Cane outstretched, I use it as my eyes, searching for obstacles. There are many. Mostly people, some handbags I think. Mortified apologies ensue. I just nod. We reach the bar and as predicted, it is bunged. The sound of voices is deafening. A man close by laughs and steps back, knocking me off balance. Someone catches me. It's Paul.

'Oh fuck! I'm so sorry mate. Did I hurt you?' the man says. 'Here,' he shouts to the bartender, ' serve this man first. It's on me.'

I bristle inside.

'No, no. Honest. It's fine.'

But apparently a space has opened up for us and we are served immediately. Each of us returns to the table carrying a bottle of white wine in a bucket of ice -- including me. I use my stick in the other hand. I'm used to improvising. I maybe blind yes, but I'm sure as fuck not going to fade away to insignificance and live a half life. If I want to carry a drink to our table, I will. If I fall, I will get up.

The ladies are tipsy when we arrive back.

'Are you bad men trying to get us drunk?' laughs Janine, probably observing the three bottles of wine.

'Of course,' says Paul.

Dave leans into me over the din and says, 'you are a total boss mate. Just want you to know that.'

I grin. 'Yep. I know. Now pass me my gin. Don't want to be drinking yours by mistake. Who knows what the fuck I'll catch.'

He digs me in the ribs and passes me my super strength gin just as the band begin their first song.

I can't believe it. It's one of my favourites. 'Tears of the Dragon.' I find myself mouthing the words, a lump in my throat. But happy too. Emotions are a strange thing.

They do a brilliant job of it and I clap along with many others when they're done. I'm so glad I came out.

They play several more songs but just before they take a break they play another favourite of mine -- 'Thunderstruck'. As always my friends are horrified by the irony of me loving this song since it was a lightning strike that took my eyesight. But I don't care. In fact, I get to my feet, drink in hand and bob my head big time to the music. If I could safely, I'd strut. The music is slamming through my veins like the lightning did that day only it's not destroying, it's energising.

I am LOVING it!

I sit down breathless after -- laughing. My friends group hug me and tell me I'm a fucking mad man. I lean back sweating. My last bit of gin makes its way down my throat and then Dave says something that changes my life forever.

'I think you have an admirer you know.'

I forget to breathe.

'What?'

'She's hardly taken her eyes off you all evening.'

'Probably pity. Women do that.'

Dave isn't a man for over demonstrative gestures but at this point he wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers gruffly in my ear. 'Trust me, it's not. That girl wants you. I'd stake my very life on it.'

Problem is I can't see her.

You need to go over and speak to her.'

'Don't be a cunt. I can't.'

The band start to play again and the song they're kicking into begins to turn me into a liar -- 'In the Midnight Hour by Billy Idol.'

'Where even is she mate?'

'I'll come with you. She's by herself. Let's see if she wants to join our table.'

I nod. Ok. Fair plan. Make ourselves look chivalrous. Offering company to a lone lady. Cool.

What does she even look like, I almost ask? I huff a sigh. Any point in me even asking? I'll never see a woman again.

She has a strong voice I soon discover when we reach her table. But she quickly lowers it, so I must lean closer to speak. Maybe my mate Dave is right. Maybe she does like me.

I didn't used to be bad looking. No idea what I look like now. Don't think the lightning strike left scars. It just cooked my eyes.

'We were wondering if you'd like to come hang out with us at our table. But if you're waiting for someone it's no bother.'

I jolt back a little. My lips touched her ear. I've no idea of her reaction. Until her hand.

I get the sense it's quite small and it lands on my thigh.

I can almost visualise Dave smirking because he knows he was right.

'Sure I'll come hang out.'

Midnight hour is finished and another oldie comes on.

Motley Crue -- Wild side.

I can sense her swaying. She leans in.

'Only on one condition though...I want you to come home with me later and show me your wild side.'

Dave splutters into his drink; digs me in the ribs.

Suddenly my dick has decided to try and rival my cane in length. Oh fuck.

There's nothing else for it. Everything is coalescing into something I do not want to stop. I take her hand and she guides me to our table -- with her hand cupping my jean clad ass. I kid you not.

Two things need to happen now quickly. Introductions and my pussy starved dick needs to chill the fuck up, before I explode.

I'm getting the sense she's very bad. What in God's name have I found?

'My name is Mary,' she shouts above the din. And suddenly her lips are locked on mine.

I gasp and pull away. 'I've a feeling you're gonna be wasted on me.'

'We can reassess your thoughts on that tomorrow.'

I can't really even begin to think of tomorrow. I'm too totally wrapped up and engulfed in today; the delicious excitement of it, her body so scintillatingly close to mine as we all laugh and talk as a group. She's just blended in seamlessly and everyone seems all the happier for her presence. I mean, who could blame them?

It goes without saying that I can't see her but that doesn't stop my mind inventing a version of her. In my head, she has soft pale peach coloured skin. I already know at least part of that is true because her bare arm has skimmed mine more than once tonight. It is definitely of a texture that could rival even the most expensive bolts of satin. That thought makes me want to buy her things; outrageously expensive things. She deserves them. Not just because out of anyone in this place, she chose to respond and be with me tonight but because I sense something unusual about her; like her soul or something. Maybe I'm waxing lyrical and getting too fanciful due to having a major missing element of my sensory array. Could be the super gins too. Or both. I'm not sure it is though. The others seem to be hanging on to her every word too.

'Mary, you have such an old soul vibe thing going on with you,' exclaims Janine. 'You remind me of my Aunt Kendra.'

The synchronicity of her comment with my musings makes the hairs on my arms and neck stand up on end.

Mary tries to brush the comment off and presses herself noticeably into me, as if for comfort.

'Well, I dunno what the old soul vibe shite is that you're going on about Janine,' says Lizzie. 'But I do know she definitely lives up to her namesake -- this building, Pretty's. You're a very pretty woman Mary. So full of life. You'd better snap this one up Brendy before she gets away.'

There's a distinct stiffening of Mary's body at that comment.

What's wrong I don't know. She laughs and offers to pour Liz another white wine. She accepts. When she's done, I rather daringly drape an arm over Mary's shoulder, fingers purposefully sensing the texture of her hair with my forefinger and thumb. The band start to play another song. A female member is doing lead vocals. It's hauntingly beautiful.

Mary's head rests on my shoulder and I know in that singular moment for sure -- Lizzie is right. Mary is special. I can feel it seeping into me, a bond forming as sure as a spider's web tentatively connects to branches and twigs in a hedgerow. I don't just want her sex. I want all that she is. I want everything.

This is terrifying to fall so fast and so hard. I should know better than this.

I imagine her in my mind's eye some more, breathing in her scent and reveling in the feel of her body's warmth and presence.

'Your heart is beating so fast,' she says into my ear. The action is so intimate, I will remember it till my dying day. She sent mini shockwaves that hurtled right through me.

This woman is not only noticing me. Reacting to me. She's erasing the unspoken fear I've been struggling with for so long; that my blindness makes me less visible to others. That my blindness infects them with something similar.

I press a light kiss to her temple. I can't help it. 'Of course my heart is beating fast, I've a beautiful woman sitting right here beside me.'

I wish I could see her reactions. I need to. I don't want to put a foot wrong.

The song is nearing its finale now anyway and pretty Mary lifts my hand and plants a lingering kiss that feels like it belongs in a medieval movie.

How can she be so many things? She's so sensual. So funny. So deep, intriguing and impassioned. Lizzie is right. She doesn't belong in this time or place. This woman should be ensconced on a throne of deep magnificence and honour in the safest, strongest and grandest of castles, many centuries prior to this. Protected.

These musings inflame me. I become engulfed with confidence and bravery. 'Want to go to my place now; leave here early? The others won't mind?'

I can hear her singing along to the last few bars of the song. I will wait. Her voice is beautiful.

'Sure,' she says. 'I'd like that.'

And then she kisses my hand once more. My dick hardens in response to what it hopes is coming shortly but then my brain valiantly overrules my sex starved shaft and asks a question that needs answered.

Why is my hand wet?

Surely such a convivial gem cannot be crying? Have I wronged her? Been too forward?

'Mary. We don't have to do this. I promise you. Are you ok? Please speak to me?'

She does this strange snuffle sound and laugh combined.

'Yeah. It's just an emotional song that's all.'

My heart feels a little bit lighter. But not much.

'It is. They do a great version of it,'

Something still feels off. I might not have sight but I have insight by the ton to compensate. 'Mary darlin' come on what aren't you telling me?'

I've got to know. Maybe she's just had a break up or something? It happens. Though what fucker would let her go, in his right senses is beyond me.

The band have taken a break and my friends are leaving us to it, talking amongst themselves.

She does another raw, painful sounding chuckle, that sounds like a piteous attempt at bravery. 'For a blind guy, you sure can see. You can see far too fucking well.'

Our hands have become entwined and I say nothing but instead try to send strength to her through our bond, hoping it's enough to soothe or help her speak more openly.

It does.

She draws a deep breath. Her fingers tighten and her voice goes taut like a bow.

'Ok. Ok. There's no easy way to say this. And I know you won't be expecting it. But I've got cancer, Brendy. It's terminal. Right through my bones and it's spreading still. I've got a few months left on this earth if that. And I wanna spend them with you. If you'll let me -- having fun. I want to really fucking live until I can't any longer. So come on, pretend you didn't hear any of that and let's go home? Will you? Can we please? Even if you can only give me one night, I'll be happy.'

Without even making the conscious decision to do so, my large powerful fists strike the table in front of us with enough force to apparently splinter the wood.

A security man comes over. 'Everything ok, over here guys?'

My friends reassure him it's all good. He knows us and lets it go.

'Mary.'

'Mary.'

I can't get anything else out. My words are jagged rocks.

It shouldn't be affecting me to this extent but it is.

Her little hand wraps around my bicep. 'It's a lot I know,' she says. 'But I just really want you and I feel we could share something super special. A spark in the darkness of the approaching eternal night. It could be a whole lot of everything -- including very fucking wild.'

Her laughter at that makes my heart burn like antifreeze poured without mercy into a deep open cut. Could I be that brave? I don't know.

But I'm so not letting her do this alone. If she needs me to be her fucking spark, I will blaze for her like no other.

Whatever she wants.

'Let's go home then baby,' I tell her. 'You and I have some seriously beautiful fires to start.'

We leave, bidding our friends farewell. Outside the night is all mystery and unidentifiable noises. But I'm not afraid. Because I've got Mary with me. The brave one. We are two halves. I have got the life and she has got the sight. Even if I did have vision, I would not know where we are going anyway. And I like the excitement of that. I can sense her happiness and merriment. My cane is in her hand, her other arm wrapped around my waist and my other hand fondling her shoulder.

We chatter about nonsense, stopping now and then to kiss. Her mouth is plush, soft and warm. She's a thing of contrasts. Sometimes pliable, opening herself to me until she seems overcome with starvation for me and then she takes over, gripping my body or face, pulling me to her, pressing herself against every accessible part, her mouth explaining her want, her soft little tongue digging and stroking.

For the first time in several years, I feel powerful as a male. I've even given her my cane as if I don't even need it. It's like we are infusing each other. Like magnets I think our need and compatibility drew us from across the room, eyes or not. Some things just can't be seen or accounted for. And sometimes the less visible things are the more inexorable.

We must be at her place because she tells me to go slow and that there are steps leading down. I stumble a bit but she catches my fall. The door closes behind us and she lowers me to the floor right there in the hallway, talking my hands whilst I lie on my back, wet from the rain, guiding them to her breasts. Whatever flimsy shirt thing she's wearing she instructs me to rip.

I do. Who could not feel delight at a woman demanding they unveil her and access her bounty in such feral terms? My hands oblige and the cloth is rent noisily. There seems to be a silky underwired bra. I fold down the cups, exposing her. My thumbs roam her damp skin as she sits at top me till I find her nipples. I imagine them, how they look, stroke them and feel her squirm in response. One hand grabs her hip, informing her of my strength, want and commanding her to be still for me. Not from malice but because I want her begging and desperate. I detect her feelings through every motion and exhale. The grip of her knees against my hips, as if she has sworn to herself she can never let me go.

Raising myself upwards and in doing so, pressing my erection against her centre, I engulf her left breast in my mouth. And trust me. I take in as much of her feminine fleshly delights as is possible. My mouth is rammed full and I just groan nasally at the sensation. She shunts forward and more of her enters me. My tongue is unable to move. There's no room for maneuver. I want to stay like this. Smelling her. Tasting her. Imagining her breasts full of milk due to the children I may have impregnated her with in another life, had things been different. I suck slow and gentle and caress her gorgeous buttock with my other hand, as if I'm massaging and milking all her sexuality into me.

I feel her hair flowing over my face and her cries of joy make me want to put my dick inside her so very very bad. We roll over suddenly.