"Carter!" His shrill voice cut the silence. "Carter!"
I flew out of bed and raced into his room in a sleepy daze. My heart was hammering, or had stopped beating all together, I wasn't sure which. I didn't know what to expect, whether there was someone in his room, whether he was hurt, or whether someone was about to jump out and attack me.
"Isaac!" I said, flinging his door open and flipping on the light switch. My eyes were still adjusting to the light. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, clutching at the sheet tangled around his waist. "Isaac, I'm here. Did you hear something, are you hurt?"
He shook his head and a soft sob escaped him. "No."
I walked over, knelt on the bed and touched his hand. "Hey," I said softly.
His hand gripped mine tightly and his voice was whisper soft. "…scared."
Oh, Isaac.
I quickly sat beside him, and wrapped my arm around him. I pulled us back so we were lying down. I tugged the sheet up over us, then the blanket, and wrapped my arms tightly around him, while he snuggled his face into my neck.
He started to cry.
"Don't be scared," I murmured against his ear. "I've got you, baby."
"I'm so stupid," he said between sniffles.
"Ssh," I tried to soothe him. "You're not stupid."
"Why do I push you away when I need you the most?" he asked. "Why do you put up with me?"
"Because I love you."
He cried harder. "I treat you like shit."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Not all the time."
He sniffled. "I was awful to you tonight. I'm sorry."
I kissed the side of his head. "You had an awful day."
He nodded against my neck with a wave of fresh tears.
"Isaac?" I hedged quietly. "Did you have a bad dream?"
He nodded again. "My dream… He came back and you weren't here," his voice was a bit muffled against my neck. "You left, because I told you to go. And he hurt Brady."
I pulled the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled him further against me. "It was just a dream. You're okay, Brady's okay."
"Can you check on him for me?"
I smiled and kissed his forehead. "Of course."
Throwing back the covers, I padded out through the kitchen to the sunroom. Brady and Missy were on their beds, awake, no doubt because of Isaac yelling. Both dogs looked up at me when I walked into the room. Confirming Brady was safe and well, I snuck back into bed with Isaac.
"He's fine," I reassured him. "Tucked in with Missy."
He seemed to breathe out in relief, quickly snuggling back into my side. Using my arm as a pillow, he snaked his arm around my waist, and buried his face back into my neck. I traced circles on his back and his breathing became deeper.
Despite the circumstances, I smiled. It wasn't too long ago he was so distanced from his guide dog, Brady. He loved him, he always had. But he was hesitant to acknowledge it, in a feeble attempt to save himself from a broken heart when the time should come that Brady died. He'd lost two other guide dogs since being blinded at the age of eight, and the last time, with his beloved Rosie, nearly broke him.
In the last six months, he'd come so far with Brady. And today was testament to that. The way he held onto him, protected him from the intruder, and then the way he'd held onto his collar, wanting him close by for most of the afternoon. But now, even in his dream, his concern was for Brady.
Thinking he'd fallen back asleep, I kissed the side of his head again.
He sighed. "I'm sorry for making you sleep in the spare room."
I chuckled. "You're forgiven. Just don't make me do it again. I belong in here with you."
He nodded against my neck, but never said anything. His breathing soon evened out and he slept.
I fell asleep wondering what today's events would mean for Isaac; for his independence, for his confidence. Selfishly, then I wondered what that meant for me. I wondered how much he'd push me away, how much he'd hurt me with his words, with that temper of his.
I woke up alone.
I walked into the living room, heading toward the kitchen. Well, the coffee machine, to be exact. Isaac was sitting on the sofa, writing something with his Braille punch-pad. It's technical term was a slate template, or something like that, but because he slid the paper into it, then used the pear-shaped stylus to punch Braille holes in it, I'd long ago dubbed it his punch-pad.
He heard me coming. "Coffee machine is on."
I kissed the top of his head as I walked past. "Thanks. Want one?"
"Um, sure."
So with two cups of coffee in hand, I sat down beside him. "What list are you making?"
He put down his punch-pad, and I gently handed him his coffee. "Oh, just some things I need to do today."
I turned side on, folded my leg up and under my ass and put my spare hand on his thigh. "Like what?"
"Call my insurance company, my bank, change PIN's and passwords, buy a new laptop, new glasses."
I rubbed his thigh. "Make your fantastic boyfriend breakfast."
He smiled as he sipped his coffee. "I'm pretty sure that's not on my list."
"It should be."
"You're not working today?"
It wasn't unusual for me to work some Saturdays. "No, not this weekend. I'm all yours."
"Hannah said she’ll be here after lunch," he reminded me. "So, if it's okay with you, I'd like to organize what I can this morning."
"Of course it is," I told him. "On one condition."
He shook his head, and tried not to smile. "What?"
"We save time and water, and shower together."
Sometimes I just wanted to punch some people. And this was one of those times. The computer salesperson at the electronics store was an ass. He spoke to Isaac loud and slow, like he presumed him to be mentally inept, or deaf.
Isaac was used to it. It happened all the time apparently. But even after us being together for a year, it was something I knew I'd never get used to.
It infuriated me to no end.
The salesman looked at Isaac, then at Brady, then to me. "Can I help you?"
I put my hands up. "Nah, not me. Isaac, what are you after?"
The salesman smiled, as though it were some kind of joke.
"I'm after a new laptop, preferably eight gig memory and a one terabyte hard drive. It needs to have multi-core processors, and have a sound card for synthetic speech. My last laptop had an Intel i5 and it was fine, but going on two years old. What's the latest version?"
The salesman stared at Isaac then blinked slowly. "Um."
I waved my hand in front of his face, garnering his attention. "Oh, sure," he said, turning on his heel. "We have the latest model. It has the i7, I think, but the Mac has a bigger screen…" he trailed off, glancing at Isaac, obviously wondering whether he should have said that or not.
"Screens and monitors are of no use to me," Isaac said simply. "I'll also need an external hard drive and a carry case in leather, if you have it. Thank you."
The salesman blinked in shock again and looked at me like I should give permission. Instead, I gave him a what-the-hell-are-you-waiting-for glare and he scurried off to the back room.
I shook my head. "What an asshole."
Isaac smiled. "It's not his fault he's an idiot."
I laughed. "Anyway, why are you nice to him, but you give me hell all day long?"
"Because you're not an idiot," he answered. "Or an asshole."
"So let me get this right," I joked. "You'd be nicer to me if I were an asshole to you."
Isaac chuckled. "I'd consider it."
"You're unbelievable."
"So you've told me."
I rolled my eyes just as my favorite salesman came out carrying a large rectangular box and put it on the sales counter. "Come on," I said, putting my hand on his arm. "Your new laptop awaits."
Despite having to go to Boston's city centre, shopping for his new glasses was much more fun.
I never imagined I'd ever go into a store like it. Well, not on my income. I mean, I earned good money, but Armani?
I felt underdressed and under classed walking inside, but Isaac just waltzed on in, with Brady, of course. A salesman—a young, good-looking, rich-looking guy—walked right up to him, never taking his eyes off him. "Good morning, how may I be of assistance?"
Isaac smiled. "Sunglasses?"
"This way," he said, leading us toward a brightly lit wall cabinet of sunglasses. "The summer range this year is amazing."
"My last pair were the GA 675," Isaac told him.
"Ah," the salesman, whose nametag declared him to be Michael, said. "Very stylish."
"I can't take credit for picking them." Isaac turned his face toward me and smirked. "But I've been told they suit me."
I looked at Michael and shrugged. "They do. Well, they did."
The salesman grinned at me, then pulled a pair of glasses off the wall. "Well, good style never goes out of fashion. Here's the newer 675, just like your old pair."
Isaac had worn my sunglasses out today, so I stepped up closer, and told him, "Take your glasses off so we can try these new ones on."
Isaac took my not-so-expensive glasses off and handed them to me, and when Michael handed the new glasses to Isaac, he saw how blue his eyes were. He looked at me, a little surprised at just how beautiful his unseeing eyes were. I smiled at him.
"How are they?" Isaac asked, facing us wearing the sunglasses.
I smiled. "Perfect."
He lightly traced his fingers on the frames. "They feel the same."
I couldn't deny it. He looked hot. "Well, actually, they look better than your last pair."
Michael softly cleared his throat, interrupting this little moment between us. He waggled his finely plucked eyebrows. "Can I take those for you, or would you like to wear them now?"
"I'll wear them now, but if you could take off any tags," Isaac told him, handing him back the glasses. "Carter, did you want a shirt or something?"
Pfft. Not likely. "Ah, no. I'm all good."
"Some sunglasses?"
I looked at my old pair of cheap sunglasses in my hand. I actually could use some new shades. "Um, well…"
"Here," Michael said, pulling a pair of glasses off the wall. "Let's try these on." I turned toward him and he slid the expensive glasses onto my face. "Oooh, they look good on you."
I looked in the mirror. "Eh, they're a bit big. Something smaller?"
He picked another pair. "These will accentuate your jaw line."
I tried them on, and he was right. I had to admit, they looked good. "Mm, I like these."
"They suit you," Michael said. "They make you look… hot."
Isaac cleared his throat. "Are you two finished? Would you like some alone time?"
Michael looked positively horrified, like he'd just committed some professional misdemeanor. Isaac was pouting. I laughed, "Yes, I'm finished."
Michael hurried off to the service counter ahead of us, and I took Isaac's arm and followed Michael. Isaac sighed. "Do you always flirt with the sales assistants?"
"Oh, all the time," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I put my sunglasses down on the counter. "I'll take these."
"I'll pay for his," Isaac said.
"No, you won't," I said flatly.
Isaac sighed again and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, then deftly skimmed his fingertip over his cards and pulled out his credit card. He held it out in Michael's general direction. "Both pairs, please."
"Isaac," I started.
He smiled. "Are you really going to argue with a blind man in public?"
At this point, Michael's mouth fell open. I chuckled. "Since when do I ever not argue with you?" I looked at the poor sales assistant. "It's okay, Michael. He loves it when I argue with him."
Isaac lifted his chin defiantly. "Remind me again why I put up with you?"
"Because you love me," I told him. "And I'm great in bed."
This time Isaac's mouth fell open, and he hissed, "Carter!"
Michael smiled as he completed the transaction. I tried to ignore what it cost in total, and our shopping expedition was over.
After we'd got Brady harnessed into the back seat and were out in traffic, Isaac started. "So, Michael was cute, was he?"
I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, sure," I admitted. "For an eighteen year old, make-up wearing college kid."
"You were very cozy with him."
"Cozy?" I scoffed. "Oh, my God. Are you jealous?"
He shook his head. "Jealous? Do you not know me at all?"
I smiled, but that was just it. I did know him. I knew him well enough to know something wasn't right. He was trying too hard to be funny. His jokes, his smile, it was all too forced. Yesterday, the home invasion… as much as he said he was fine, he really wasn't.
That's the thing about Isaac. Not one to talk openly, he'd prefer to bottle it up, let it fester, then lash out at whoever was closest. He'd been working on it over the last six months, he'd been trying to talk more openly, but he thought it showed vulnerability and that was something a blind man had enough of.
"Yes, I do know you, Isaac," I said, reaching over the console and taking his hand. "So, care to tell me what really bothered you with Michael?"
He was quiet for a while, and I thought he was just going to ignore me, so I changed the subject. "Thank you for the glasses, by the way. You didn't have to buy them for me."
He was still quiet, and when I looked from the traffic in front of me to him, I saw he was gnawing on his bottom lip. "Isaac?"
"He said the glasses will accentuate your jaw line."
"So?" I asked, trying to figure out his angle. "He also said I was hot, so he clearly would say anything for a sale."
Again, silence.
I squeezed his hand. "Isaac, please talk to me."
He swallowed hard, obviously trying to get the words right in his head first. "It's little comments like that… to anyone else it wouldn't mean anything. But he just said it, 'these will accentuate your jaw line' so flippantly."
"I'm sure he meant nothing of it, Isaac."
"No, Carter," he shook his head. "Oh, these will do, they'll look good on you, you're hot. Don't you get it, Carter? He's seen your jaw line. He sees what looks good on you."
"Isaac," I said, lifting his hand to my cheek. "Oh, baby."
He shook his head. "It's silly, I know. But I just… wish…"
"It's not silly. Nothing you feel is silly."
He shrugged and was silent again. It wasn't until we were almost back to his house when I asked, "You know Hannah and Carlos will be at your place soon. Should we grab some lunch?"
Finally, he spoke. "Sure."
When Hannah arrived, with Carlos and two-day-old baby Ada in tow, she almost tackled her brother as she raced into the living room to see him. Isaac spent the better part of an hour going over every detail of yesterday's ordeal. He got mad, Hannah got upset, and he reassured her a hundred times he'd be fine.
Hannah apologized again for being overly emotional, but given she'd just had a baby two days ago, I thought she was doing quite well. She felt guilty for not being able to drive him to and from work. "But I'll be here first thing Monday morning to take you."
"No you won't," Isaac and Carlos said in unison.
"I'll drive you," I told him.
"No one is driving me!" Isaac cried. "I'll be fine."
"You're not catching the damn bus again," Hannah snapped at him. She'd started pacing, and Carlos urged her to take it easy.
"I'll take a cab," he offered weakly. "I don't need a babysitter."
I shook my head at this impossible man. "Why won't you let me help you?"
Isaac turned to the sound of my voice. "What?"
"No matter what I say, no matter what I offer, you say no. Why is that?"
He turned away from me, which was his way of silently telling me he had no intention of answering.
"I'm serious, Isaac," I pushed my point. "I offer to drive you, you say no. I offer to move in, you say no."
"You what?" Hannah asked, clearly surprised.
Isaac sighed. "Carter…"
I stared at Hannah. "He didn't tell you I asked him if I could move in? But that was weeks ago…"
Isaac's voice was low, his warning clear. "Carter…"
An awkward silence fell over us, until Hannah looked at me and Carlos. "Can I have a word with Isaac, please?"
I withheld a sigh. I doubted this would end well.
Carlos looked over at the baby carrier, where Ada was still sleeping soundly. "Carter and I will take the dogs out the back," he said. He told Hannah, "Just give me a holler if you need me, or if Ada wakes up."
We walked out into the backyard, with both dogs running off for a sniff of God-knows-what. "How's Hannah?" I asked.
"She's okay," Carlos answered. "Exhausted, worried about Isaac. She feels so guilty."
I nodded. "Yeah, I can see that."
Carlos was always so patient, always so understanding about his wife's bond with her brother. I wondered if her built-in need to protect Isaac, to run to his aid, was a toll on their marriage.
"Does it bother you?" I asked him. "That Hannah seems to put Isaac before everyone else."
Carlos smiled. "No, not at all. She adores him, and she's looked after him ever since I've known her. It was like a package deal."
"You're a saint."
"Hardly." He laughed. "I don't have to tell you how stubborn he can be, and sometimes I wish he could see just how much he hurts her."
I nodded. "Yeah, I know."
Carlos looked at me for a long moment. "Did he really say he doesn't want you to move in with him?" he asked. "I thought you two were going strong."
I sighed. "Yeah, me too."
"He's just scared."
"I thought that too," I admitted. "But I'm starting to wonder if it's not something else."
"Carlos?" Hannah called out from inside. "Can you come here a sec?"
Carlos walked in, and I followed him, presuming their little chat was over. But it wasn't. While Carlos took little Ada for a diaper change, I found myself standing in the sunroom while Isaac and Hannah briefly paused mid-way through their rather heated discussion. They didn't know I was there. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just kind of froze…
"You love him," Hannah said. "I know you do."
"Of course I do," Isaac answered.
"Then why?" she asked. "Why not let him live with you? No bullshit this time, Isaac. I want the truth."
I think my heart just about stopped. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear his answer, but my feet couldn't seem to move.
Isaac's voice was quiet. "I don't want him to see how blind I really am, how much of a burden I am. If he lives here, he'll see how much I struggle."
"Oh, Isaac," Hannah said. "You've been together for a year! He knows you."
He answered so softly, I almost didn't hear him. "I want to be normal for him."
I moved then, my feet suddenly kicked into gear. I had to go to him. I walked in through the kitchen and straight over to him in the living room. He heard me coming and turned toward the sound of my footsteps. "Carter?"
I cupped his face in my hands and pulled him against me. "I just want to be with you," I told him. "Isaac, baby, I know you're blind. I won't ever think any less of you. I couldn't." I pulled his face back and kissed his cheek. "It's the opposite for me. The more I get to know you, the more amazing you are."
He frowned. "I knock things over sometimes."
"So do I. Just last week, I dropped a whole packet of ground coffee."
"I don't want you to realize how much hard work I am. When you're at your place, then visit me or stay overnight, you see me in snippets. You put me on some pedestal, tell me how perfect I am, but I'm not."
"I spend three or four nights a week here and every weekend. What will I see that I don't already?"
He frowned. "How much of a burden I can be."
I kissed his forehead and pulled him against me again. "Never. Isaac, you're the most independent and insanely stubborn man I've ever met." And the most amazing.
"I want you to move in, I do. I need you..."
"But?"
He sighed. "I'm impossible to live with."
"I'll take my chances."
"You need your head read."
"Is that a yes?"
He was quiet for a long time, then he nodded. "Promise you won't hate me?"
"Never."
"Promise you won't leave me?"
"I promise." I kissed the side of his head. "Promise you won't push me away."
"Promise." Then he amended, "Well, I'll try…"
"That's all I ask."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Carter?"
"Yeah?"
"Move in with me."