MEETING SYLVIA
In the morning, I'm walking back from my local corner shop with a bottle of milk when I see a pretty young woman with a white cane walking quickly to the bus stop. The bus that is there pulls away. "Bugger!" she shouts.
I walk up to her. "What's wrong?"
"Was that the 260?"
"Yes."
"Damn, I'll be late for work. The next one is in 15 minutes, but then I'll miss the connection to my second bus."
"Maybe not, I live a block away. I can drive you."
"Oh no, don't bother."
"It's no bother. I have nothing to do today. What's your name?
"Sylvia."
"I'm Mary. Stay there, I'll be right back."
I hear her object as I'm jogging to my car, but I pay no attention. I start my car, pull around the block and park in the bus zone. I jump out and lead her into my car.
I pull up to a parking zone and ask for her work address and enter it into my phone, which is in its cradle. I proceed as directed by my map app.
"Mary, you don't have to do this. I would have been all right."
"But late," I say. I ask, "What do you do for work?"
"I'm a call centre operator."
"How long have you worked there?"
"Six months."
"Can you see at all?"
"Only light and dark and a bit of motion around the edges. I could see until a year ago. Just after my high school graduation, I got macular degeneration. Within six months I could barely see and now I can't.
"Damn. Rotten luck."
"Yeah, I was thinking about being a doctor but that's out now."
"Aw."
We proceed in silence for a few minutes, except for the directions from my app. I look over at her at a red light. I had only seen her as a person needing help before, but now I see her as a young woman with a pretty face and a lovely slim body, and I start getting interested.
"General Services?" I ask as the app says I'm at my destination.
"That's it."
I pull into the driveway and park in the space nearest the entrance, which is the handicapped space. I figure I'm only here for a few minutes, and she's handicapped, so I don't sweat it.
"What time do you start?"
"9."
"It's 12 minutes to. Can we talk for a few?"
"Okay. Thanks so much. You didn't have to do this."
"No, I didn't have to. I
wanted
to. And I'm glad I did. I like you, Sylvia and I admire you."
"Why?"
"Because when life took away your dream, you didn't just wallow in pity. You took control and learned how to do what you can."
"Well, yeah."
"Many wouldn't have. My mum died two years ago and I haven't done anything but potter with my photography hobby. And another thing, you are very pretty."
"Aw, thanks."
She smiles. "Oh yes, especially with that lovely smile. May I take your photo?"
"Uh, okay."
I get my phone out of the cradle and say, "Okay, big smile, pretty girl."
She grins and I take the photo.
"Perfect. Now, can you read texts?"
"Yes, my phone can read them out."
"Great, may I have your number?"
"Uh sure."
She gives it to me and I send a quick text. Her phone beeps.
"That's me. Now you have my number. You'd better go now. What time do you get off?"
"5:30. Why?"
"I'll pick you up."
"Oh no, Mary you've done too much already."
"Nonsense. I want to. Sylvia, please, don't argue. I'll be here."
She opens the door and climbs out. "Is this the handicapped spot?"
"Yes."
"I can go from here."
I'm impressed that with sweeping motions of her cane she heads right for the entrance.
MY FACE FOR SYLVIA
I watch her effortlessly walk in, imagining how helpless I would be without my sight. I stare at her photo and glow. My feelings are stirred up. Yes, she's good looking and that gets my libido going, but there's a lot more to her. I drive home slowly, thinking about her.
Once at home I search for information on macular degeneration and how blind people organise their lives. I read about cane use, options for using a phone and a computer and other aspects of life.
I look at her photo again and dream of kissing her. I am then sad that she can't see my face. I search again and learn that blind people "see" a face by touching it. I'll make a point to invite her to do that when I pick her up.
Then it occurs to me that although I can look at her photo any time, she can't see me unless I'm with her. That makes me frown again.
I start my coffeemaker and ponder the question while it drips away. I go back to my computer and search for faces and browse the images. No inspiration. I try masks, and an image spurs a thought. What about a 3-D printer?
I try to think if I know anyone with access to one. I scroll through my contact list and call someone I was in a photo class with.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sonya?"
"Yes."
"This is Mary. We took a photo class last year. Do you remember me?"
"Oh, sure. Hi. How are you?"
"I'm great. Say I'm looking for someone who has access to a 3-D printer. Do you have any idea who might?"