My Neighbor, Heather McCallister

As I stood by the window, the chill of the morning air biting at my skin, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of restlessness. It was Monday, and the world outside seemed to be stirring, slowly coming to life as the darkness of night gave way to the dawn. I had barely slept, my mind racing with thoughts and visions of her, the blind girl, Heather McCallister.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, and tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had been plaguing me since I met her. It was as if my entire world had shifted, and I was no longer the same person I had been just a few days before.

I turned away from the window and walked back to the bed, my eyes scanning the room as if searching for something. My gaze landed on the clock on the nightstand, and I saw that it was already past seven. I had to get dressed and get to the office.

I made my way to the bathroom, turning on the shower as I went. The warm water felt good on my skin, and I let out a sigh of relief as I stood under the spray. I was trying to push the thoughts of Heather out of my mind, but it was no use. She was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to resurface.

As I got dressed, I felt a sense of unease growing inside me. I knew I had to see her again, to talk to her, to get to know her better. But I was scared, scared of what might happen, scared of how I might feel.

Shaking off the feeling, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. The cold air hit me like a slap in the face, and I felt invigorated as I made my way to the underground parking garage.

I pulled into my reserved spot and grabbed my car keys. As I walked towards the elevator, I saw a cab pull up to the curb, and I watched as a white stick appeared and the girl eased herself out onto the sidewalk. That was my chance, I thought to myself, and I quickly made my way towards her.

The nearer I got to her, the more my heart began to quicken. She was dressed in a dark grey overcoat with a bright yellow scarf wrapped around her neck, a black woven skirt, and what looked like thick woolen black stockings and knee-high black leather boots. Her hair was tied in a ponytail hanging down her back.

She waited until the taxi had moved off, then reached forward with her stick and began to tap it back and forth. I stopped a few feet from her and watched as she moved carefully forward and into the flow of pedestrians. Even from where I was, I could see that she was nervous and flinched every now and then as she felt someone get too close as they walked past.

“Hey, hello,” I said to her, not too loud as I didn’t want to startle her. But loud enough for her to hear over the din of traffic, “Miss. McCallister, right?”

“Oh, uh, yes, hello!” she replied breathlessly with a smile that was completely endearing.

“Mike. Mike Sloane. We sort of met briefly last week before everything got a little mad in the asylum.”

“OOooooooooh, I remember you,” she exclaimed. A soft flush crossed her face as she pulled her stick to her chest and stuck out her hand, “Tenth floor, right?”

“Yep, tenth floor,” I said with a smile, taking her hand – again. That made me smile wider. Smart is as smart does.

“Are you waiting for anyone?” I asked, looking around.

“Well, usually,” she explained, “A couple of the new girls wait at the main entrance for me. I still need a little help to figure out where everything is in this place, to be honest. But every day I’m getting better at it,”

“Look,” she said, raising her arm and looking at her watch, “I think I’m a little early this morning because of the snow.”

“Well, I’m heading to the canteen for something to warm me up,” I said, “You’re more than welcome to join me for a cup of coffee or something. My shout.”

“It really is cold isn’t it,” she said, sniffing the air, “Alright, you have a deal. Coffee sounds awesome right now.”

“Can I take your arm?” she asked, her voice a little softer now.

“Sure,” I nodded, coming to her right side and watching as she slowly raised her hand and slipped it through my proffered arm, “Okay?”

“Great!” she grinned, “Good to go. Don’t worry, if you hear me mumbling to myself it’s because I’m just counting out steps and how far things are for me. I haven’t gone nuts or anything.”

“Well, I did call this place the asylum, didn’t I.”

“Coffee,” she said with a laugh, nudging herself against me.

We walked into the canteen, the warmth and noise enveloping us like a blanket. I led her to a quiet corner, away from the groups of people who had arrived to work early.

“So, what do you do here?” I asked, sitting down across from her.

“I’m a data analyst,” she replied, “I work on the tenth floor with Mike…I mean, Mr. Sloane.”

“Ha! I guess that’s me,” I said with a smile, “What about you? What brings you to this madhouse?”

“I’m a bit of a thrill-seeker,” she said with a grin, “I love a good challenge. And this place is definitely that.”

“I can imagine,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “So, what do you like to do in your free time?”

“Uh, I like to read,” she said, “And I love to dance. But mostly I just like to listen to music and let my imagination run wild.”

“That sounds amazing,” I said, feeling a sense of wonder at her creativity. “I’m a bit of a music lover myself.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I love all kinds,” I said, “But I’m particularly fond of jazz and blues.”

“Oh, me too!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement. “I have a huge collection of jazz records at home. And I love to dance to them.”

“That sounds incredible,” I said, feeling a sense of connection to her that I couldn’t explain. “I’d love to see your collection sometime.”

“Definitely,” she said, smiling at me. “I’d love to show it to you.”

As we talked, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at the way our conversation was flowing. It was like we were two old friends, catching up after a long time apart.

“Can I call you Heather?” I asked, feeling a sense of familiarity with her.

“Sure,” she replied, smiling at me. “Of course.”

“What about me?” she asked, her brow furrowed in concentration. “What should I call you?”

“Well,” I said, leaning in closer to her, “When it’s like this, you can call me Mike. If we have to pretend to be serious, then it’s Mr. Sloane. Alright?”

“Ahhhhh,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’ll get me into trouble!”

“Who would know?” I asked, smiling at her.

“There’s only me and you here, right?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. “Only me and you.”

As we sat there, lost in our own little world, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement at what the future might hold for us.

We finished our coffee in silence, the only sound the hum of the canteen and the soft rustle of the wind outside.

As we got up to leave, I felt a sense of loss, like I was leaving behind a part of myself. But as I looked at Heather, I knew that I had found something special, something that I couldn’t quite put into words.

“Thanks for the coffee, Mike,” she said, smiling at me.

“Anytime, Heather,” I replied, feeling a sense of connection to her that I knew would last a lifetime.

We walked out of the canteen together, the cold air hitting us like a slap in the face. But I didn’t feel a thing, not with Heather by my side.

As we walked towards the elevator, I felt a sense of excitement at what the future might hold for us. And I knew that I would do anything to be with her, to hold her close and never let her go.

We stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind us with a soft whoosh. And as we stood there, surrounded by the steel and glass of the building, I knew that I had found something truly special. Something that would change my life forever.

As I stood off to the side, I couldn’t help but notice how Heather’s eyes sparkled as she listened intently to Janet’s explanation. Her recorder lay discreetly on her lap, and she nodded every now and again, her face a picture of concentration.

I was finding it impossible not to look at her. She was like a magnet, and the only way I could satisfy the urge was to stare at her like some lovesick teenager, which unnerved the hell out of me.

There was just something about her that made my world seem more worthwhile somehow. If I wasn’t so shallow, I’d say I had a crush on her.

“Mr. Sloane,” Janet said, her voice cutting through my thoughts. I jerked my head up to see her staring at me. “What?” I blinked and tried to focus on her, my mind clearing.

“Mike,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re supposed to be paying attention to the training session.”

“Sorry,” I replied, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks. Our eyes met and held for a moment, and I knew she really did know.

Heather got carefully to her feet, her recorder still clutched in her hand. “Um, I think so,” she said, smiling up at Janet. “I’ll type it out when I get downstairs. Shouldn’t take long. Is that it?”

For a moment, the room fell silent, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Then Janet nodded, and the three of them took their leave, leaving me to wonder what had just happened.

I stood watching as Heather stopped suddenly and turned to face the room. “Um,” she said out loud, “That was very interesting. Thank you very much.” She whispered something to Janet, who laughed, and they took their leave.

As the door closed behind them, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. I glanced at the closed door and knew for absolutely certain what I had to do.

The opportunity came a lot sooner than I thought it would, and in the most unexpected circumstances.

It had gone five, and work was pretty much done for the day. I stepped up to the elevator and pressed the button, watching the number above the door flicked over from fifteen to fourteen. The doors opened to reveal Heather standing there, alone, holding her extended white stick against her chest.

I stepped into the elevator beside her, but didn’t say anything. The doors closed automatically, and the lift gave a short jolt before heading down to the next floor.

The girl turned her head slightly and gave me a quick smile before facing front again and sort of sucked on her lower lip.

“Mr. Sloane?” she said surprised.

“Hello, Heather,” I replied, grinning at her.

Her mouth dropped open, and she tapped me on the shoulder with the end of her stick. “What are you,” she spluttered as her face flushed red, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Sorry,” I replied with amusement as she scolded me. Her eyes were wide and bright, “I was just admiring the view.”

She gave a start. “What?”

Tread carefully, my friend. Small steps. One at a time. “Sorry. Just daydreaming that’s all.”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she said, giving me a suspicious look before turning to face front as the counter pinged above us and the doors opened to let people in.

We stood at the back, not saying anything, but I knew I had gently nudged her in the right direction.

Ground floor arrived, and we both waited as everyone got out and made their way through the hall to the main entrance. Heather held her stick out in front of her and tapped the sides of the elevator and deliberately made her way out.

She stopped and I could tell she knew I was still standing near her. I looked up and saw a taxi parked in the courtyard waiting.

“Can I give you a lift?” I said to her, “I can drop you off home if you like.”

Heather clasped her hands together and made a face. “Oh, well, actually,” she explained, “I’m not exactly heading for home just yet. I have to go somewhere. A place. Uh, I’m a sort of volunteer there a couple of times during the week. So..” Her voice trailed off.

“That’s not a problem.”

She stuck out her lower lip considering her options. “Okay. Okay, that sounds a plan.”

I keyed in the details for the nav, and the computer beeped, laying out the route on the screen.

“Just off the Interstate?” I asked.

“Uh huh, number one eighty-three. It’s the old fire station on the corner.”

The drive was uneventful, and I glanced at her as she shuffled in the seat. It had been an adventure to get her in the thing in the first place.

“Here, give me your hand,” I told her, “Now ease yourself down and watch your head. It’s a sports so the seat is pretty low to the ground.”

She gripped my hand with her left and felt around with her right as she placed her foot into the car. Once she got her ass onto the side of the seat, she sort of slid into position with a squeak.

“Oh, my gosh,” she laughed, “This feels so weird. It’s like I’m falling!”

Outside, the world was lit with neon and the constant moving lights of rush hour traffic as we made our way to her destination. Heather sat muffled up in her seat, and I kept my eyes on the road.

The sky was a deep purplish black as night rolled in, and the soft hum of the engine was the only sound to hear.

“Radio?” I asked her, “Music?”

She shook her head. “No. This is nice. I like this,” She reached across and touched her passenger side window, “Sometimes there is too much noise.”

That I could understand. Though not in the same way she did. I glanced at her and could sense she was in a place all of her own.

“What’s it like?” I asked her.

She turned to look at me as I concentrated on the road.

“Lonely.”

The Berkley Institute for the Blind had been many things over its eighty-year history. Previously a fire-station, it was now home to a drop-in and resource center for the visually impaired as well as offering a volunteer service for those living with or coming to terms with the condition.

Holding onto my arm, she led us both into the reception area where an older lady with a grey poodle perm flecked with white sat behind the counter doing various bits of paperwork.

She smiled as we approached her. “Heather, honey!”

Heather grabbed me tighter and pushed me forward. “Hey, Molly, how goes it?”

“Fine, fine,” she said, “Ernie is out back messing with the boiler. Damned thing is getting cranky again. Rattling like a bag of bones but at least the pipes are hot,”

She turned to me and raised her eyebrows, “And this fine gentleman is..”

“Oh, this is,” Heather suddenly stuttered, “This is um..”

I reached out my hand and Molly took it. “Just call me Mike. I work with Heather.”

Molly was about to say something when all hell broke loose.

SQUEAK “Ouch!” SQUEAK “Ouch!”

Every time it bounced off something the ball let out a loud electronic SQUEAK followed by a pained “Ouch!”

The little plastic inflatable ball turned out to be a frizzy blonde-haired girl of about six who screeched to a stop in front of us.

“Is anybody there?!” she called out, “Because if you are you’d better not pretend you’re not!”

Molly stood with her hands on her hips. “Gracey Turner. Just what are you up to?”

The child lifted her face to the sound of her voice and it was then I realized she couldn’t see us. She was blind too.

I glanced at Heather who stood there laughing.

“Nothing. I swear,” said the girl. She gave a grunt of frustration and did a little-annoyed dance on the spot with the plastic ball bobbing up and down around her, “Do I HAVE to wear this thing, Aunt Molly?”

“Yes you do, sweetie,” said the woman, “Or else you’d end up black and blue the way you run around this place. This way you can’t get hurt and we know where you are!”

Gracey sighed and turned away to walk back where she came from.

“Bummer,” she muttered as an older boy approached us from the same direction using a stick.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said brightly as he came into reception, “Is that Heather?”

“Hello Billy,” she said as she raised her arms wide. The boy, who looked roughly the same age as her, came up and gave her a big hug.

“Billy, this is Mike. He works in the same place as me.”

Once he let her go, he turned to me. “Pleased to meet you, Mike.” He raised a finger to his right eye, “It’s okay. You’re a smudge. I’m ninety percent dark and ten percent fuzzy. Hence the smudge. You look good though. Seriously. I’m Billy,”

I raised an eyebrow as Billy’s words hung in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

“Heather’s boyfriend,” Billy said with a grin.

Heather’s face turned bright red as she slapped Billy’s shoulder. “No, you are not!” she hissed with a laugh.

As I sat back against the oak-paneled wall, watching the flames dance in the fire, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm wash over me. The sounds of laughter and chatter from the group around us created a warm and inviting atmosphere, one that I was grateful to be a part of. Janet’s voice cut through the noise, her words piercing the air as she spoke to me, her eyes locked on mine with a gentle knowing. “Come closer, Mike, kneel on this cushion.” I turned to follow her gaze, my eyes meeting Heather’s as she sat frozen, her hands flying to her mouth in a gesture of shock.

I felt a pang of confusion, my mind racing with the question of what was happening. Janet’s voice, however, was insistent, her tone a gentle encouragement. “Show him, Heather.” Marge, the older woman to my right, nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We were just talking with Heather about the way she experiences and interprets the world around her,” she explained, her voice soft. “How things appear to her. When someone speaks to her directly, the sound of their voice appears to her as flashes of different colors in front of her.”

Heather’s nod was almost imperceptible, her eyes still fixed on mine. “I can see people through touching their faces,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The way they feel and their shape. It’s something I was taught when I was very young.” Janet’s smile was encouraging, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “We thought it would be fun for her to do you, Mike.”

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a dare. I looked at Heather, her face pale, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. I felt a surge of curiosity, a desire to understand her, to see the world through her eyes. And so, with a nod, I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?” Heather’s nod was firm, her voice steady. “Yes. I just get a little nervous when I do it.”

Janet’s voice was a gentle encouragement, her words a soft whisper in my ear. “Are you ready?” Heather’s face was inches from mine, her eyes locked on mine, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch my face.

Her first touch was tentative, a light tracing of my features as her fingers came into contact with the bone structure of my face. I felt a shiver run down my spine as she explored my features, her touch sending sparks of sensation through my body. I was staring at her, my eyes fixed on hers, as she painted a picture of me in her mind.

The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a moment of pure connection. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching in my throat as I watched her, mesmerized. Her fingers danced across my face, tracing the contours of my jaw, the shape of my nose, the curve of my lips.

And then, in an instant, we were inches apart, our faces almost touching. I felt her breath against my skin, a soft caress that sent shivers down my spine. My heart was racing, my pulse pounding in my ears, as I leaned forward, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that felt like it lasted forever.

The world around us melted away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the moment, our lips locked in a kiss that spoke of a deep and abiding connection. I felt her arms wrap around my neck, her body molding to mine as I held her close, my lips devouring hers in a kiss that left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the flames of the fire dancing behind us, the world around us fading away into nothing. It was a moment of pure magic, one that I would never forget, a moment that would change everything.

Her fingers trailed across my chest, sending shivers down my spine as she whispered my name. I lifted my lips from hers, our mouths parting in a gentle caress. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide with a mix of emotions: surprise, shock, wonder, and a deep, all-consuming desire.

I took a deep breath, my world spinning back into focus as I gazed at Heather’s tear-stained face. She dropped her forehead against my chest, her body trembling with each ragged breath. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as I searched for reassurance.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her racing heart. “But I think I need to go.”

Janet and Marge rushed to her side, enveloping Heather in a warm hug as they led her to her coat. Janet shot me a sly glance over Heather’s shoulder, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. “We’ll get her home,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

I stood there, frozen in shock, as the room around me melted into chaos. The girls from the pool were staring, their faces a mix of awe and confusion. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to find Brad grinning at me.

“Dude, you’re a god,” he said, handing me a beer. “That was…wow. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Life just got a whole lot more complicated,” I muttered, feeling the weight of my actions settling in.