Shooting in the Dark

its place. There was nothing thrown on the floor. Not one single object.
    The carpets didn’t show it, but it felt as though there should have been tracks worn into them, along the regular routes she took. If she hadn’t been blind and lived in that place, you would have thought she was obsessive. But maybe she was obsessive, could be that was what blindness did to you.
    He stopped himself there.
    OK, leave aside the stereotyping. Blind people are just people who’re blind. Some of them’ll be obsessives, but there’ll be scatterbrains among them as well. Some blind people probably live in houses where they can’t find anything, their clothes are all over the floor, every time they get out of the chair they fall over and break a bone. When they go outside they get lamp-posts running into them, post-boxes; and dogs and cats and street kids get tangled in their legs.
    And some of them’ll drink.
    This is a woman who looks good. She makes no secret °f the fact that she finds him attractive. Ignore the deep irony there; just let it go past. She’s into some kind of militant wing of freedom and independence for the World’s unsighted, tinged with feminism. She is completely blind at night, and during the day she can see shadows in a blinding snowstorm. She’s capable of losing her cool and spitting like a snake. She wears high-fashion gear, expensive threads, which would suggest taste as well as money, except this afternoon she is wearing a bra with false 1 nipples. How is he supposed to read that?
    There is someone following her, watching her. Someone unknown. And now her sister has gone missing.
    Could be a madman, someone burning with passion. The flames of his rage fed by a storehouse of frustrated love.
     
    She was trying to figure out how to program her new mobile when he came back from his tour of the house and garden. He looked over her shoulder, listening to the digital voice that explained which buttons to push for redial, how to store numbers. ‘This specially designed for the blind?’
    ‘Yes. It’s new. I think my other one must’ve been stolen.’
    ‘From the house?’
    She shook her head. ‘I was jostled in the street,’ she said. ‘The day before yesterday. The man must’ve taken it out of my bag. Anyway, it’s gone.’
    ‘Is this an occupational hazard?’
    ‘Quite the opposite,’ she said. ‘Most people are over-solicitous.’
    He was quiet for a moment. ‘You work out?’ he asked. ‘I keep fit,’ she told him. ‘I don’t use a gym.’
    ‘You go walking? Jogging?’
    ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘I’m interested,’ he said. ‘Your calf muscles are hard, well developed, and your neck is strong. Most of the time you’re working in an office, you sit in front of a computer, s0 I wonder how you keep yourself trim.’
    ‘Trim,’ she said, feeling the word’s contours, letting it spill from the tip of her tongue. She gave it back to him. ‘Trim?’
    ‘Something wrong with that?’
    ‘Am I under observation?’
    ‘Hell, no,’ he said. ‘I was just looking, I didn’t mean...’
    ‘It’s all right,’ she told him. ‘I’m not offended. Suddenly we’re talking about my body. I was... surprised.’
    He blew a long stream of breath between his teeth. ‘Really,’ she said. ‘I’m not offended. I’ve got the pool. I use a public baths to swim lengths; I ride a horse and a bicycle. I’ve got an aerobics step and a small trampoline upstairs. I do all those things, and I’ve got a sauna.’
    He didn’t respond immediately. She listened to the silence between them, his shallow breathing.
    ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That explains it, why you’re so trim.’ There it was again.
    ‘And you?’ she said. ‘When did you stop smoking?’
    ‘Some years back,’ he said. He didn’t ask her how she knew he’d been a smoker, if she’d heard it in his breathing, the damage to his vocal cords. ‘I would’ve thought riding a bike was dangerous if you can’t see where you’re going.’
    ‘I don’t ride in traffic,’ she said. ‘And I need a sighted guide. But it’s good fun, one of my favourite things.’
    ‘You mean like a tandem?’ he asked.
    No, I’ve got my own bike. I need to put my hand on a S1 ghted rider’s shoulder. It’s like walking, only faster, and there’s more of a thrill to it.’
    ‘I’ve got a bike,’ he said.
    She waited, but he didn’t take it further.
    Is that an offer?’ she asked.
    ‘Yeah, some time. Whenever you want.’
    ‘Thanks.