Johnnie stared into the pint of Guinness and inhaled. It smelled miraculous, and she took a small sip and thoroughly enjoyed it. This was her first and she decided it would be her only. She was in her favorite back booth, back in her hovel, sketch pad in hand. But for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t worried about painting. She felt relaxed though truly awake. Memories of the past had been haunting her dreams and her waking thoughts. She wasn’t sure why, but she figured it had something to do with the woman and her probing questions and deep, penetrating looks. Johnnie had let her in a little, and the realization didn’t terrify her as she’d suspected it would.
Still though, she needed to be careful. Her relationship with Gail was a harsh reminder of how people could turn. Somehow though, after feeling the loss she’d felt when she’d touched the woman’s chest, she didn’t think the woman would act anything like Gail. But how could she be sure? She’d read Gail wrong, so who’s to say she could read anyone anymore? Maybe her family was right; maybe it was all in her head.
“Ah, Johnnie, I see you’re enjoying your usual,” Sean said with his thick brogue. He gave her a basket of fresh bread. “Eat it and don’t argue. You could use a little fattening of the arse if you ask me.”
“Thanks.” She took a bite and tried not to groan at how good it was. Sean grinned and wiped his hands on his bar towel.
“So you’ve been painting?”
“Quite a bit actually.”
“Well, that’s grand. Are you feeling better then?”
“A bit.” She motioned at the empty seat across from her. “Want to join me?”
“Nah, I can’t. But there’s someone who wants to.” He looked over his shoulder. “Name’s Ian. Fresh off the boat. He’s a good friend of mine and he’s one hell of a painter.”
“Really?”
Sean turned again and gave a shout. “Ian, get your sorry arse over here and meet me friend.”
A small man at the bar fumbled a bit as he slid off his stool and turned toward them. For a second, Johnnie thought he was drunk. But when she saw the cane, she realized he was blind.
He walked up and felt for Sean, who took his arm and guided him to the booth.
“Is this the lovely lady?” he asked, smiling.
“’Tis. Her name’s Johnnie.’
“Johnnie? Well, that’s quite a name.”
He removed his pageboy hat and patted down his gray hair. He reached across the table.
“Can I feel ya? So I know who I’m talking to.”
Johnnie let him have her hands. His eyes, which he didn’t cover with sunglasses, were dark blue and unfocused. He had purple scarring around them from some sort of accident. But when he held her, she could feel him seeing her, physical body and all.
“Aye,” he said. “Sean was right about you. You’ve got the feelers on you.”
“Sorry?”
He smiled again and squeezed her hands. “Probably why you’re hiding out in this sorry old pub. Can’t handle being around people.”
Johnnie tried to pull her hands away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t fright. I’m just feeling ya. Feel me back, you’ll see.”
Johnnie stared into his face and breathed deeply. She felt calm, warmth, peace. He smiled and released her hands.
“There now.”
Johnnie pushed him the basket of bread. “Hungry?”
“Not for food, love. No, thank you.”
“What are you hungry for?”
“Same thing you are.”
“Sorry?”
He patted the table and leaned forward. “Woman.”
Johnnie stared at him a moment and then laughed. It seemed to amuse him.
“I’m hoping a nice one will walk in here in a minute. Take me home and have her way with me.”
Johnnie sipped her beer. “I hear ya.”
“Why aren’t you with yours?” he asked.
“Mine? I don’t have one.”
“No? Hm, must’ve read you wrong. I coulda sworn your heart was taken.”
Johnnie blushed, and she was glad he couldn’t see. “No, I’m single.”
He grabbed her hand. “Does your heart know?”
Johnnie stammered for words. He released her and leaned back.
“Never you mind. You’ll go after her when the time is right.”
Johnnie thought about arguing, but she knew it was useless. He could see her the way she felt others.
“You paint her though, don’t ya? Beautiful lass like that.”
Johnnie looked over to the bar where Sean shrugged and grinned.
“I have been, yes.”
“I had a girl I would paint. Long time ago. Before I lost me eyes. Aye, she was a looker. I didn’t know what was better. Painting her or touching her.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I lost my chance with mine. Don’t lose your chance.” He slapped the table. “Sean tells me you’ve done quite well for yourself. With your art.”
“Somewhat, yes. I’ve had some luck with collectors.”
“Your heart belongs to a beautiful woman, you’re making money painting, tell me why the hell are you sitting in here all alone?”
“I like quiet.” She squirmed a little in her seat and fingered the corner of her sketch pad.
“Don’t like it too much. Life goes like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And let me tell ya, when you get to being my age, you wish like hell you could go back and say fuck ’em, fuck ’em all.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t hide away, Johnnie, just because you can feel. You’ve got to live. Fuck people. Fuck ’em all.” He gripped his cane tightly and placed his fist on the table. “Do ya think I give a fiddler’s fart what people think of me? Look at me. I know I look crazy. I know I am crazy. And you know what? I’m happy. I paint what I want, say what I feel, and take step after step without knowing what’s ahead. You need to do the same.”
Johnnie stared into the grooves on his face. Stared into the stormy ocean of his eyes.
“Fuck ’em,” she said softly.
“That’s a way. Fuck ’em. Even when you’re feeling them and they aren’t good inside, don’t let it get to ya. Just walk away. You don’t owe them an excuse. You don’t owe them anything.”
“What if they are good?”
He smiled. “Then you’ve got to hang on tight and live and feel with them. Don’t run. Don’t hide away. Pain has a way of finding ya, no matter where you live.”
“Who are you?” Johnnie asked. She squeezed her beer glass, trying to control her heart rate. Looking at this stranger, this strange powerful man, she felt like she was seeing into her future.
“A kindred spirit.”
Johnnie looked around. Sean was busy washing glasses, and the two other patrons were staring into their beers.
“Did someone send you?” Did he know the woman? Was this part of her therapy?
He laughed. “Like who? An Irish fairy?”
“No, I’m serious. The stuff you’re saying, it’s just so relevant to my life lately.”
“Life has a way of giving you what you need when you need it. You just have to know how to see it.” He pointed to his eyes. “Not here.” He covered his heart. “But here.”
Johnnie looked at him for a long time. She could feel his goodness radiate outward toward her. She allowed their connection to mix, like a warm mist. She wished she’d met him years ago.
“Where are you staying?” Johnnie asked.
“With Sean for now. But I just bought me self a little house.”
“You’re staying here in Phoenix?”
“Aye, I need to dry out. And I want a tan. Get me a tan lady.” He smiled.
“Can I see you again? Maybe see some of your art?”
“Of course. And you’ll tell me all about yours?”
“Yes.”
“We can paint together.”
Johnnie touched his hand. “I’d like that.”
She opened her sketch pad and wrote down her number. “Give this to Sean. Call me.”
She rose, glanced at her watch, and grabbed her sketch pad. She had to meet Eddie soon and she couldn’t be late.
“Will do, love.”
She touched his shoulder. “Good-bye,”
“Good-bye,” he said, smiling after her.