HE WAS BETTER THAN THE SIGHTED ONES

It was said that he was brighter than any lantern.

Miss, do you agree? a man’s voice, pleading, sounded through the receiver.
Very well, let us try, I replied, with a hint of condescension.

I was twenty, a student at the university, hunting for a parttime job. In the local papers I spied an advert: Blind schoolmaster seeks a ladys assistance. A sudden pity for the unknown blind man made me dial the number at once.

The following morning I stood at his front door, trembling as I knocked. The door swung open and before me stood a man, as if from a dream.
Come in, dear. What shall I call you? the sightless gentleman asked.
Evelyn, I answered, a faint blush creeping up my cheeks. And you?
Edward Whitby, he replied.
My dear Evelyn, I am in dire need of your help. Your perfume is intoxicating. I teach history at the university and would have you read my lecture notes to me each evening; I shall commit them to memory. I lecture three times a week. What say you, Evelyn? Edward Whitby would always address me thus.
I looked around his flat. It was tidy, spare, free of clutter. Edward seemed not yet past his forties, handsome, immaculate, almost angelic in his bearing.
Let us begin, Mr. Whitby, I said, eager to start work.

September turned to February, then May, and the university holidays arrived. Edward released me until the next September. I gladly fled to the seaside. Within a week I had almost forgotten my blind charge, falling instead in love with a young gentleman and planning to marry him. The wedding day was already set.

At the end of August Edward called:
Evelyn, please come tomorrow.
Im sorry, Im to be married. Im preparing for the wedding, I replied cheerfully.
Marrying so soon? I think youre hasty, disappointment tinged his voice. Please, Evelyn, do come, he implored.
Very well, Ill pop in, I said reluctantly.

The next day, the waning August heat pressed in.
Your bewitching perfume, Evelyn, I recognise it, Edward greeted me from the hallway.
My fiancé also loves that scent, I blurted, foolishly.
Evelyn, shall we keep working together for another academic year? I cannot do without you. Please agree, he asked, his tone pleading.
Then let us begin, I replied briskly.

The more time I spent with the schoolmaster, the less I wanted to wed my chosen man. I soon retrieved the marriage licence from the registry and resigned my fiancé; after all, a bride is not yet a wife, and I could still change my mind.

Edward and I soon slipped to first names. While I read his notes, he would gently clasp my hand. He would close his eyes that could not see and breathe deeply the heady aroma of my perfume. Our evenings were easy and cozy.

One frosty evening I arrived shivering, begging for a hot tea. Edward settled me into his armchair, wrapped my feet in a blanket.
Sit, Evelyn, Ill be right back, he said.
He disappeared into the kitchen, returned with a tray, feeling his way to the table. On it lay orange slices and a snifter of brandy.
Drink, Evelyn, youll warm up at once.
I sipped the brandy slowly, eyes on Edward. A tender urge rose to hold this extraordinary man, to comfort him. As the brandy vanished, Edward drew nearer, kissed me passionately, and hugged me tightly.
Stay with me, Evelyn. I will give you a whole world. Do not laugh.
Im not laughing, Edward. Youre so gentle! My head feels light, I murmured, feeling warm and safe in his arms. My cheeks flushed.
He felt my pulse with the tips of his fingers, whispering earnestly:
The blind hear everything; the deaf see everything.

The next morning Mrs. Whitby, Edwards mother, arrived as she always did at dawn, bringing breakfast and tidying the house. She saw me in bed and seemed unsurprised.
Good morning, dear, Edward announced cheerily. Evelyn and I are still lounging.
No trouble at all, dearies, have a nap if you wish. Ill have breakfast ready, Mrs. Whitby smiled, bustling to the kitchen.
Edward, I climbed up to the heavens last night. Is that possible? I asked in wonder.
Evelyn, Im afraid Im getting used to you. Yet I understand you are not mine. How sad, my love, Edward reflected.
Breakfast is ready, children! shouted Mrs. Whitby from the galley.
We sipped coffee, ate toast, and laughed.
Thank you, Mother. I have a lecture today. I shall prepare. Evelyn, Ill be waiting, Edward said, shuffling back to his favourite armchair.
Mrs. Whitby, closing the door, whispered to me:
Evelyn, my Edward has truly fallen for you. You have brought bliss into my sons life; I do not wish him to ever taste torment. As they say, you cannot put a blind man in the drivers seat. Please, do not crush his spirit. You have your own sighted life ahead. Every blind man believes he will one day see clearly. My Edward is a poor soul. Do not add to my grief. Do not return, Evelyn. I will think of something to calm Edward.
I stood bewildered, torn. I knew Edwards affection was fleeting; a life together was impossible, and he had never asked me to marry. Yet I could not abandon him outright. I, too, had fallen for him, heart and soul.

So I visited Edward only when his mother was away. I could not meet her and stare into her eyes without guilt.

A year passed. Our bond grew stronger, inseparable. The blind man gave me light. I told everyone I intended to marry a blind man. Then, one day, I entered his study and he said:
Evelyn, we must part. I set you free. Go away.
My grief knew no bounds. Love shattered, tears, hysteria, bewilderment. I thought I could not bear the separation. Edward, deaf to my cries, heard nothing.

I married twice after that. There was passion, love, and heartache.
No one ever matched Edwards fire.