[Author's note : All characters in this story are fictional and depicted as over 18]
*
Four weeks ago I was a sulky blind kid who didn't have a date for his senior prom.
Three weeks ago my fairy godmother said, "You shall go to the ball."
Two weeks ago she went back to her own life, leaving me to get ready for college.
One week ago I quit trying to make my family understand my choices and left early.
This week, I'm in Boston, settling into my new, independent life and learning my way around the city I'm going to call home for the next few years.
My name? Robbie Pugh -- and, please, no jokes about Blind Pugh. I heard them all in school when we read Treasure Island. I'm reading American History at Harvard, starting this fall. That fairy godmother I mentioned? She's Bernadette Kennedy, known to a generally shocked America as B and to her lovers as Honey B. I'm proud to say I am one of her many lovers and it doesn't matter how much scandal associates itself with her very public behaviour, I know -- know, mind you, not think -- that she is a warm, generous and beautiful person without whom none of my new life would be possible.
The week I spent with Honey B, culminating in my high school prom, was the most amazing, exciting, craziest time of my life. She taught me everything I know about sex -- I thought I knew quite a bit, but I was wrong. She's paying for my college place, paying for the hotel I live in -- Ok, that's not strictly true. The hotel is actually paid for by her... I don't know what to call Eric. He's more than a boyfriend, less than a husband. Let's just say he's her main squeeze. Anyway, Eric Kruppa -- Yes, that Eric Kruppa! Millionaire playboy, pornographer, photographer and notorious hedonist -- Eric has kept a suite at The Marriott since he graduated and inherited his father's business empire. He's maintained close links with his old Fraternity and visits here often enough to warrant keeping a suite. I haven't met Eric yet but, because of B, I'm living 'under his roof' for the next three years.
B, beside everything else, is one of the smartest people I've ever met. She knew long before I did, that I'd be in Boston sooner rather than later. When I called her to say things had got unbearable at home, there was already an open ticket for me at my local airport. By the time I got to Boston, she'd mobilized a limo from the hotel to pick me up and, when I reached 'my' suite, B's magic wand had filled the closet with new clothes, labelled shelves, hangers and drawers in Braille and had one of the bedrooms rearranged as a study. It won't be the last time I say this, but B is amazing.
Living alone is a new experience and, so far, a lot of fun, but breakfasting alone sucks. I tried it for two mornings before deciding that the coffee shop in the lobby was a much better option. That's where I am now. Finishing my second cup of coffee while I start this journal. I wonder what B's doing right now.
* * * * *
"More coffee, Robbie?"
"Thanks. Sorry, I don't recognise your voice." So many waitresses, so little time.
"No reason you should. I'm hypothetical." Her voice was a warm contralto with a west coast accent.
"Helen?" I guessed immediately that she wasn't actually a waitress.
"No. I'm Kelsey. B thought she'd better send someone a little closer to normal -- Just to see how you're settling in." She sat down opposite me.
"The coffee was a nice touch. A good ice breaker." And clearly a ruse to introduce herself.
"Thanks. I thought so too. So? How are you coping with Boston?"
"Fine. The staff here are taking excellent care of me. I'm missing B, but she didn't need to send you to find that out."
"Well maybe I'll be able to help with that."
"Hypothetically?" I recalled my conversation with B about other women.
"Robbie, B's told me everything you two did together. More. She showed me."
"Showed you?"
"Your tape recorder wasn't the only record. B has a little camcorder of her own."
"You said you were 'normal'?" I found myself unsurprised at the revelation about the video camera. Somehow it made sense: B would never keep anything private that she could possibly make public. I didn't for a moment feel betrayed by her. I love B too much to hold such indiscretions against her.
"Closer to normal. Normal for 'B World'. I can still count my lovers on my fingers... Ok, fingers
and
toes, but only if I include the girls."
"Ok. I think I understand normal now. How long are you here for?"
"As long as you want. Think of me as a girl you've just met. We'll hang out together, swap stories, get to know each other and see where it all leads. Ok?"
"Sure." I was sure I already knew where it would all lead. Consider the source: B wouldn't have sent Kelsey here to be a platonic friend. B doesn't do platonic.
"You can practice your seduction technique." Kelsey suggested.
"I don't have a seduction technique. I've had precisely one lover and she seduced me. I've only asked a girl out on a date once."
"And?"
"And she said no." I'd crashed and burned after that rejection, but B had turned up and pulled me out of the wreckage of my old life.
"Well that sounds like a good place to begin." Kelsey sat back and waited.
"Ok. Kelsey, would you like to go out sometime?"
"Sure, Robbie. When?"
"It's a warm day: A picnic maybe?"
"Oh, I can't today. I'm meeting my boyfriend at 1... Just kidding!" Kelsey's hand closed around mine. It was the first time we'd touched. "It's a great idea. Shall we go for a walk first? You can show me Boston. I've never been here before."
"I've only been here a week myself. We'll probably get lost."
"So? Getting lost together might be fun. C'mon." She stood, tugging on my hand until I got up too.
"Kelsey? May I?" I reached tentatively for her face, curious what she was like. Some people find it really disconcerting being 'seen' by the blind but it really does help us to relate to people.
"Be my guest." Her fingers on the backs of my hands directed me to her face and she was very patient while I mapped her features.
Kelsey was a couple of inches taller than B; curly hair, tied back; a longer nose than B's; high cheek bones; thin lips but quite wide and she was smiling when I touched them; no moustache, very thin eyebrows; a strong jaw line; good skin; bigger earlobes than B, not pierced. What's this? A necklace. I ran my fingers along the warm metal and burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Kelsey's voice was really very pleasant to listen to.
"Your necklace. It's got Braille on it."