The Goodbye Girl by Becky Doughty

Author:Becky Doughty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BraveHearts Press

Chapter 7

"Wait. You—you what?" I tugged hard, freeing my hand from his grasp this time, really unnerved now. "You're not—not blind? But...." My voice drifted into silence as I laced my fingers together in my lap. I was completely befuddled.

"I am able to see. Mostly. Things are pretty blurry around the periphery, starting about here." He held his hands about two feet apart.

Which would explain why he hadn't seen my hand reaching out to hold his before we prayed.

"I take longer to process things than others," he continued. "I see your hand moving toward me, and part of me knows you're going to touch me, but it takes me awhile to comprehend that I'm going to feel it." He lifted his hand very slowly and held it to my cheek the way I'd done to him. "It surprises me only for a moment." He paused, and then continued as though uncertain he should admit his next statement. "I'm not accustomed to people touching me."

"Oh." My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what he was saying. And then his last words hit me. "Oh," I said again, a sense of loss washing over me; not my own, but his. I couldn't imagine living my life without touching and being touched by the people I loved. How lonely he must be.

"What do you mean, Mr. August?" Itsy asked. "Don't you have anyone to hug a lot?"

Out of the mouth of babes.

"Itsy." Lucy's cheeks flamed as she put a shushing finger to her lips.

"It's all right, Lucy," August said. "I have an aunt and uncle who hug me, Itsy. Not a lot, but I know they love me." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, like he was sorting through a myriad of explanations in his head in search of the one that would make the most sense to the child. He planted his hands on his thighs, his thumbs moving slowly back and forth over the corduroy texture of his pants in small circles just above his knees. Perhaps it calmed him somehow? I found myself studying him in a different light, analyzing everything about him.

His light brown hair, closely trimmed on the sides and a little longer on the top, was combed back neatly from his face in an old school Captain America style. He had big ears, but they were perfectly shaped and lay flat against the sides of his head. His neck wasn't long, nor was it thick and muscular, but it sloped up like a sturdy tree trunk from beneath the collar of his charcoal wool coat. He'd unbuttoned it after lowering himself to the blanket, and beneath it, he had on a navy sweater vest layered over a mustard-hued dress shirt without a tie. Along with his chili pepper pants, it was a rather colorful combination, I thought, considering how conservative he came across, but it worked really well on his long, lean frame. Dapper, I thought to myself. Rather. All he needed was an Al Capone fedora and he'd be my Ruby Malone's perfect match.

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