The sun room: Piles of boxes, photo albums, cobwebs, sheets draped over furniture like so many playhouse ghosts, like so many early memories that could be fading dreams born from the imagination of a hurting soul. And the piano in the corner.
The memory of the sun room came back to Martin as he held a green head of cabbage in the produce section of the grocery store. His first reaction, once the image faded, was to text his brother: "Grandma had a piano?" He slid his phone into his pocket and grabbed another cabbage, Grandma Morris taking more space in his brain: She had sun-catchers dangling on the windows -- mostly cardinals, bright red, and he remembered passing his hands through the crimson light.
The text back from his brother read, "Grandma Morris? Don't you remember her sun room? We eat in 10 min. from now -- that means at 7."
Martin had both cabbages pressed to his ribs with his left arm and he tapped out another text with his right hand. "Yeah, I guess I forgot. Getting there." He continued to shop for the next 20 minutes, gathering more vegetables. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat with his brother and his brother's wife, he liked them, but for some days now he'd been slowed in everything by a blurring in his vision. It came at odd times and was paired with memories that surprised him. For instance, right now, as he walked by the double rows of carrots and rhubarb, the automatic spray came on and his eyes fogged over as the water hit his hands. Again the sun room and the cardinals came to him, this time with sound. A tune played behind him, a slow melody he hadn't thought of in years. But he knew it. The fingers on the keyboard searched out the notes again and again. Martin tried to turn to see who played the song, but his vision snapped back to his soaked arms, the spray stopping abruptly.
Sam: You told him 7?
***
The text back from his brother read, "Grandma Morris? Don't you remember her sun room? We eat in 10 min. from now -- that means at 7."
Martin had both cabbages pressed to his ribs with his left arm and he tapped out another text with his right hand. "Yeah, I guess I forgot. Getting there." He continued to shop for the next 20 minutes, gathering more vegetables. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat with his brother and his brother's wife, he liked them, but for some days now he'd been slowed in everything by a blurring in his vision. It came at odd times and was paired with memories that surprised him. For instance, right now, as he walked by the double rows of carrots and rhubarb, the automatic spray came on and his eyes fogged over as the water hit his hands. Again the sun room and the cardinals came to him, this time with sound. A tune played behind him, a slow melody he hadn't thought of in years. But he knew it. The fingers on the keyboard searched out the notes again and again. Martin tried to turn to see who played the song, but his vision snapped back to his soaked arms, the spray stopping abruptly.
***
The following scene takes place at the home of Alex and Samantha Greene. The house has been in the Greene family for generations; Alex and Sam are in the middle of a remodel upstairs. Julie, a friend of Sam's, has been invited to dinner to, as Sam put it, "Hopefully 'click' with Martin." The three of them sit, waiting, in a formal dining room with steaming food on the table.
Sam: You told him 7?
Alex: Yes.
Sam: Should we start without him?
Alex: He'll be here. He's probably walking down the street now. I'll go look.
Julie: Sam, thanks for inviting me. Maybe I should just go.
Sam: No! He'll be here. He's, well, okay, I know it seems like he doesn't want to be here, but he's --
Julie: What? Strange? (Laughs at Sam)
Sam: Stop it. (Sighs) He's actually nice, Jules.
Julie: No, I know. I remember from your wedding.
Alex: I think I saw him down the block. I'm sorry about this, Jules.
Julie: You said you told him?
Alex: Oh --
Sam: You didn't tell him! Alex --
Julie: Okay. It was a nice thought. I'll just slip out the back. Sam, I'll talk to you soon.
Alex: Julie, I'm sorry. (He turns toward the front door, which opened and closed)
Julie: No. Don't be.
Martin: Hey, sorry I'm late -- Oh, I didn't know there'd be a fourth.
Sam: This is Julie Simon, my college roommate. She just moved from the coast.
Martin: Hi. Yes -- I remember.
Julie: Nice to see you again, Martin.
Martin: Should I put these in the kitchen?
Alex: Here.
***
The rest of the evening aforementioned went just as awkwardly. Dinner ended early, which seemed a special mercy for everyone, and Julie slipped out with Sam on her heels.
In the kitchen, Alex and Martin put the food away and scraped the dishes. Neither talked until they heard Sam saying a final goodbye. Alex said, "What's going on with you lately?" Martin watched the sink fill with water, the soap bubbling. He didn't want to answer. Sam came in, made hand gestures to Alex behind Martin's back, and went upstairs.
Martin said, "You're setting me up now?"
"You didn't answer my question."
Martin began to wash a plate. He covered it in soap with a dishcloth, but stopped abruptly when a fog rolled across his face; for a moment, he couldn't see what he held in his hands, yet he could see the shape of two red birds -- they flashed by, chirping in their dogfight.
"I don't know." Martin didn't know why he lied. He could have described what he thought was the loss of his sight. In the time it took him to respond, however, he wasn't thinking about how to deceive Alex, he was tilting his head up to catch a further glimpse of the cardinals.
"Martin?"
The words rushed at him, and he was back at the sink, suds up to his wrists. "What?"
"I'm trying to help."
"I know."
This was the night that played back in Martin's mind now as he stood on the walkway. He wanted the whole night to be there, beyond the blur, for this night had been one Alex and Martin had not spoken of for some time, and even when his eyes cleared, he grasped at the memory until the moon rose over the house behind him.
Martin said, "You're setting me up now?"
"You didn't answer my question."
Martin began to wash a plate. He covered it in soap with a dishcloth, but stopped abruptly when a fog rolled across his face; for a moment, he couldn't see what he held in his hands, yet he could see the shape of two red birds -- they flashed by, chirping in their dogfight.
"I don't know." Martin didn't know why he lied. He could have described what he thought was the loss of his sight. In the time it took him to respond, however, he wasn't thinking about how to deceive Alex, he was tilting his head up to catch a further glimpse of the cardinals.
"Martin?"
The words rushed at him, and he was back at the sink, suds up to his wrists. "What?"
"I'm trying to help."
"I know."
***
Later the same night, Alex and Sam talk before bed. Alex is sitting, watching his wife pace while she talks.
Sam: You know Jules. She's adjusting. -- What? I wanted to get her out of her place.
Alex: Okay.
Sam: She said the other day that it's too quiet.
Alex: Sure.
Sam: So I just thought having her would be good.
Alex: It was good.
Sam: No, it was not. He --
Alex: He what?
Sam: Nothing...You said he didn't know?
Alex: No, he didn't. If he had, he'd have been on time.
Sam: --
Alex: What? He's odd, okay --
Sam: Hey, come over here.
Alex: What?
Sam: Look. See there? He's standing on the walkway. What's he doing?
Alex: He's going to his room.
Sam: But --
Alex: A guy can't enjoy the night?
Sam: Find out what's wrong with him, Alex; aren't you worried?
***
Martin lived in the apartment behind the Greene house. Before Alex and Sam married the year prior, he'd kept a room next to his brother's, but the unspoken agreement had been for Alex and Sam to have the house. And Martin had been happy to move to the back apartment. He had a fondness for the small place -- if he wanted to, he could open the windows on all sides and feel like he was outdoors. Years ago, before adolescence, Martin and Alex used to spend nights on the roof, side by side. They would talk and they wouldn't talk, sometimes they'd actually sleep. Once they let the rain fall on them and neither moved an inch until the hail started. Inside, the two of them dripped and leaned on one another while they laughed at how Alex had slipped and fell nose first into the grass.
This was the night that played back in Martin's mind now as he stood on the walkway. He wanted the whole night to be there, beyond the blur, for this night had been one Alex and Martin had not spoken of for some time, and even when his eyes cleared, he grasped at the memory until the moon rose over the house behind him.
***
Weeks passed. Julie let the dinner party slip from her mind. If it had not been so, she would have done more to avoid Martin the night she saw him standing on the sidewalk. She had decided to ride her bike in the park that afternoon, and the sun slipped beyond the trees before she knew what time it was. Then, under the wheeling sky, she rode back, thinking about the smell of her new place. It wasn't bad, but it made her want the cedar planks that lined the walls of her room back home. Carpet and Pumpkin Spice candles -- those two smells reminded her she'd moved. And the moment before she met Martin Greene on the moonlit sidewalk she was sorry for herself. She was sorry for the necessity of the change in her life, sorry for her past self and unmet childhood expectations -- sorry enough to sample the taste of bitterness.
Then she saw Martin. At first, she did a small half-wave, thinking he saw her, too. When he didn't move, but continued to look into the boughs of a nearby tree, she thought she'd ride by without a word. She sighed. Then she really saw him. She stopped on the opposite side of the street and watched him. He held his hands out from his sides, but only a couple inches, and his lips moved. His eyes were open.
Finally, she said, "Martin?" When he didn't seem to hear her, she said his name again, this time while pushing her bike into the street toward him.
His body shivered and he looked at her. "Is that Julie?"
"Hi -- are you okay?"
"Oh, yes."
But she thought he wasn't okay. "I'm going to cross the street."
"I'm okay, really."
She crossed, and when she got close to him, she noticed that his eyes didn't follow her. "Martin -- "
"Hey." ... "You know," he turned his face toward her, "I've thought a few times about that night at Alex and Sam's." He hesitated, then said, "It wasn't my idea -- " His cheeks flushed hot. "That's not what I meant."
"Martin," she reached out and touched his forearm.
"No, it's just that they didn't know until that night that there are, that I'm -- "
Julie listened and watched him search for words.
"That night." He sighed. "I don't know why I'm going to tell you this. You probably don't care -- that night wasn't your idea, either, I know." They both laughed softly. "But I was late by accident. Really, I was. I guess it feels like, at the moment, that I want you to know that."
Before she knew what she was doing, she asked, "Why were you late?"
"That's a long story."
"Okay," she answered. A moment passed and she added, "I don't have anywhere to be."
Martin waited. He rubbed his hands together while he said, "The first thing. Can we find a place to sit? My legs are tired."
"Sure. There's a bench around the corner."
"That leads to the second thing." He was wringing his hands now. "May I take your arm?"
"Oh -- sure." She reached out and touched his forearm again; he slid his arm under hers.
They walked this way around the corner, Julie leading her bike and Martin. The bench was farther than she'd remembered, so there was time for her to think about what was happening. Martin's hand had calluses, and these rough parts grazed just below her biceps. Her skin there was fair and soft.
Martin let go of Julie and sat down first. He began to talk before her bike fully rested on the back of the bench. "So, you probably guessed about my eyes."
Long silence. Julie paused, but then sat down without answering.
"Not sure how long it's been, but for a while my vision has been going."
"Martin, I'm sorry -- "
"No," he put up his hand. "Look, I know people always say, don't feel sorry for me, but -- it's been odd. Of course it would be. But -- you'd expect me to be sad, you know? I think back over the time it's been, and so many other things have been happening to me that I haven't been sad; I haven't, I don't know -- "
"Missed your sight?"
"I -- " he exhaled. Then he breathed in and said, "No."
Julie settled in next to Martin so he could feel her next to him. She took his hand.
The quiet of the night was upon them for a long while, but neither of them felt the true length. Soon, Martin continued explaining. "As it blurred more and more often, I began to remember things. From long ago. Old rooms, people, and times I'd forgotten. The night I was late, my grandma's sun room first came back to me. Since then, it's been that room almost every time."
"You'd forgotten it?" There were so many questions she could've asked, but this one emerged ahead of the others, and for the second time that night Julie had surprised herself.
"Almost. It's come back quickly."
The trees above played like little boys in the change of wind. Now they felt a chill run over their necks and lift their hair.
Julie shivered.
"We can go."
"I'm okay."
"I think I used to play the piano in that room." He stopped again. Gathered his thoughts. Tried to decide whether to tell all. "Okay, Julie -- sorry, it seems easier to tell you for some reason. Yes, I used to play in that room, and I have memories of it, but now... It's hard to describe. I have these moments when my eyes stop seeing things around me, and I see other things -- not just remembering them." He waited for her to pull away, even for a small reaction in her muscles that would tell him of her repulsion. She didn't move. "And now the sun room."
She let her fingers press down on his palm.
He tried to laugh away the catch in his throat, but couldn't, and tears came. "Not sure why I'm crying." He smiled at her, let her have his hand completely. "It's all so odd. I've said that. But it is, and what I don't understand is, well, I've been cleaning it, putting it -- back in order." He had a whole string of chills now running up and down his arms, somewhat due to the air that kept getting colder as he talked, but also because he was talking himself down a path he didn't know. "I've been able to visit. Wipe the dust away. Clear out old things to make room to sit down. And there's the piano." He got quiet.
Julie felt the impression that Martin had expressed a few minutes before, the feeling that this conversation and closeness between them was easy for an inexplicable reason. She tried not to let the cold get to her, but she realized when he stopped talking that she was indeed affected by the change.
"A piano?"
"Yes. I have a vague memory of playing. Sorry -- let's get inside somewhere."
Julie was going to protest for fear that they wouldn't be able to capture the moment again, but she didn't say anything. They began to walk, Julie leading Martin. "Isn't your apartment close?"
She nodded then said, "Yes."
Sam: You know, I expected something so different. I thought he'd put up a fight for his room.
Alex: Yeah, I thought so, too.
Sam: I've never said anything to him about it. -- He just moved without a word.
Alex: I know... You still can.
Sam: It seems like it's late for that the longer I wait. You know? A year before I say thank you.
Alex: Yeah.
Sam: But. Now. Would it be like I'm saying it out of pity?
Alex: Oh --
Sam: I don't want him to think I'm pitying him.
Alex: Sure -- Sam, he's still Martin; little M, you know.
Sam: Okay, but he's not still Martin -- in a way.
Alex: Do you remember what he first said to you?
Sam: I was just thinking about that.
Alex: "Sure you don't want to marry the handsome brother?"
Sam: Oh, I was thinking the first time we met -- "Nice hair."
Alex: I forgot that.
Sam: He was looking so hard for a compliment.
Alex: You did have nice hair.
Sam: Shut up.
Alex: You still have nice hair.
Sam: Really. Shut up. ...I don't look down on him, Alex.
Alex: I know.
Sam: I mean, he is the handsome brother.
"Great. Tonight has been great."
And she laughed. She laughed at herself and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand even though there was no sweat.
"What is it?"
"Come sit with me, Martin. Let me play and that way I'll stop trying to talk."
He felt his way toward her, found the stool.
"It's a squeeze, but it'll be warmer this way." Their bodies touched along their sides from hips to shoulders, for the stool was just big enough. "Maybe you can work on the sun room."
And she played. He smiled and she played, and, somehow, they understood one another. Martin heard not only the notes and the wind in the trees outside and the air swirling inside, but also Julie; she sniffed regularly while she worked at the keys, but kept playing.
Soon, however, she laughed again and then began to cry.
"What is it?"
"Oh -- Martin, you said tonight has been great." She turned toward him as much as she could and smiled at him. The thought that he couldn't see her tears or smile flooded her. She went on, but slowly. "So, before I saw you tonight, I -- well, I was thinking, like, right before I saw you, that I didn't want to be here. That this apartment, oh, I don't know. I've spent a lot of time working up what things would be like by now...you know?"
"I do," Martin said.
"Tonight has been great. I've -- for me, it's been great for me." She wiped her nose and laughed. "I'm glad you can't see me right now." It was his turn to laugh. "Being with you tonight, it's shown me the corner I'm turning is, well -- that I've been ridiculous, I guess." She sighed.
"Julie, I knew my sight would be gone soon anyway. It really wasn't a surprise earlier. I thought I had a little more time, I guess, but -- " and he put his hand on her leg as he said, "this was unexpected. I could have been alone. But here we are."
"I'd be angry."
"Yeah, I'm sure I will be. But I've been distracted -- and you've been lovely."
"I'm going to play more, okay?"
"Okay." And then, unexpectedly, he said, "I don't know what else will change, but I like this. You and me."
Once Julie began, Martin welcomed the familiar sight of his grandma's house. He heard the music, but he saw the top of the house just over the oak trees. In a flash, he stood on the porch, the front door open so he could see through the hallway and into the back of the house. This is where the sun room spread out along the southern side, and he walked back to see the work he'd done over the last few weeks.
The sun room: The boxes were stored in the basement, photo albums lay open on three different coffee tables that he'd found in other rooms, the cobwebs were gone, the furniture had shed their ghosts, and the early
memories were no longer fading dreams, for Martin's imagination had brought them back to heal his hurting soul. And the piano in the corner was ready to be played. He sat down and listened to Julie play long into the night.
"Oh, yes."
But she thought he wasn't okay. "I'm going to cross the street."
"I'm okay, really."
She crossed, and when she got close to him, she noticed that his eyes didn't follow her. "Martin -- "
"Hey." ... "You know," he turned his face toward her, "I've thought a few times about that night at Alex and Sam's." He hesitated, then said, "It wasn't my idea -- " His cheeks flushed hot. "That's not what I meant."
"Martin," she reached out and touched his forearm.
"No, it's just that they didn't know until that night that there are, that I'm -- "
Julie listened and watched him search for words.
"That night." He sighed. "I don't know why I'm going to tell you this. You probably don't care -- that night wasn't your idea, either, I know." They both laughed softly. "But I was late by accident. Really, I was. I guess it feels like, at the moment, that I want you to know that."
Before she knew what she was doing, she asked, "Why were you late?"
"That's a long story."
"Okay," she answered. A moment passed and she added, "I don't have anywhere to be."
Martin waited. He rubbed his hands together while he said, "The first thing. Can we find a place to sit? My legs are tired."
"Sure. There's a bench around the corner."
"That leads to the second thing." He was wringing his hands now. "May I take your arm?"
"Oh -- sure." She reached out and touched his forearm again; he slid his arm under hers.
They walked this way around the corner, Julie leading her bike and Martin. The bench was farther than she'd remembered, so there was time for her to think about what was happening. Martin's hand had calluses, and these rough parts grazed just below her biceps. Her skin there was fair and soft.
Martin let go of Julie and sat down first. He began to talk before her bike fully rested on the back of the bench. "So, you probably guessed about my eyes."
Long silence. Julie paused, but then sat down without answering.
"Not sure how long it's been, but for a while my vision has been going."
"Martin, I'm sorry -- "
"No," he put up his hand. "Look, I know people always say, don't feel sorry for me, but -- it's been odd. Of course it would be. But -- you'd expect me to be sad, you know? I think back over the time it's been, and so many other things have been happening to me that I haven't been sad; I haven't, I don't know -- "
"Missed your sight?"
"I -- " he exhaled. Then he breathed in and said, "No."
Julie settled in next to Martin so he could feel her next to him. She took his hand.
The quiet of the night was upon them for a long while, but neither of them felt the true length. Soon, Martin continued explaining. "As it blurred more and more often, I began to remember things. From long ago. Old rooms, people, and times I'd forgotten. The night I was late, my grandma's sun room first came back to me. Since then, it's been that room almost every time."
"You'd forgotten it?" There were so many questions she could've asked, but this one emerged ahead of the others, and for the second time that night Julie had surprised herself.
"Almost. It's come back quickly."
The trees above played like little boys in the change of wind. Now they felt a chill run over their necks and lift their hair.
Julie shivered.
"We can go."
"I'm okay."
"I think I used to play the piano in that room." He stopped again. Gathered his thoughts. Tried to decide whether to tell all. "Okay, Julie -- sorry, it seems easier to tell you for some reason. Yes, I used to play in that room, and I have memories of it, but now... It's hard to describe. I have these moments when my eyes stop seeing things around me, and I see other things -- not just remembering them." He waited for her to pull away, even for a small reaction in her muscles that would tell him of her repulsion. She didn't move. "And now the sun room."
She let her fingers press down on his palm.
He tried to laugh away the catch in his throat, but couldn't, and tears came. "Not sure why I'm crying." He smiled at her, let her have his hand completely. "It's all so odd. I've said that. But it is, and what I don't understand is, well, I've been cleaning it, putting it -- back in order." He had a whole string of chills now running up and down his arms, somewhat due to the air that kept getting colder as he talked, but also because he was talking himself down a path he didn't know. "I've been able to visit. Wipe the dust away. Clear out old things to make room to sit down. And there's the piano." He got quiet.
Julie felt the impression that Martin had expressed a few minutes before, the feeling that this conversation and closeness between them was easy for an inexplicable reason. She tried not to let the cold get to her, but she realized when he stopped talking that she was indeed affected by the change.
"A piano?"
"Yes. I have a vague memory of playing. Sorry -- let's get inside somewhere."
Julie was going to protest for fear that they wouldn't be able to capture the moment again, but she didn't say anything. They began to walk, Julie leading Martin. "Isn't your apartment close?"
She nodded then said, "Yes."
***
Alex and Sam have been talking, too. They're sitting by the window that overlooks the backyard and the guesthouse apartment. Their knees touch as they adjust in their seats, and Alex leans toward her. Sam keeps looking outside, thinking Martin will be home soon. As they talk, Julie is leading Martin by the arm not too far away on another street.
Sam: You know, I expected something so different. I thought he'd put up a fight for his room.
Alex: Yeah, I thought so, too.
Sam: I've never said anything to him about it. -- He just moved without a word.
Alex: I know... You still can.
Sam: It seems like it's late for that the longer I wait. You know? A year before I say thank you.
Alex: Yeah.
Sam: But. Now. Would it be like I'm saying it out of pity?
Alex: Oh --
Sam: I don't want him to think I'm pitying him.
Alex: Sure -- Sam, he's still Martin; little M, you know.
Sam: Okay, but he's not still Martin -- in a way.
Alex: Do you remember what he first said to you?
Sam: I was just thinking about that.
Alex: "Sure you don't want to marry the handsome brother?"
Sam: Oh, I was thinking the first time we met -- "Nice hair."
Alex: I forgot that.
Sam: He was looking so hard for a compliment.
Alex: You did have nice hair.
Sam: Shut up.
Alex: You still have nice hair.
Sam: Really. Shut up. ...I don't look down on him, Alex.
Alex: I know.
Sam: I mean, he is the handsome brother.
***
"And, here we are." All the way up the narrow hallway steps, Julie thought about the state of her living room. Now, as the two of them stood on the threshold, she bit her lip at the mess. "Um, come in and have a seat," she walked ahead and finished her sentence while clearing a spot on the couch, "here."
"Julie." Martin had a smile on his face. He heard what she was doing. "Julie." She was rushing around. He looked down at his hands and let a tear fall onto them. "Julie." This time she turned. With her hands full of clothing, dirty plates, and half-filled cups she stood and looked at him. "Look, will you -- "
"Hold on," she rushed to empty her hands. She came back to him. "What is it?"
"You don't have to clean up, really."
She was about to speak but thought better of it and led him to the couch.
"Sorry." He waved his hand. "I just thought, well, I thought once we were inside, I'd be able to see your apartment, you know, with better light."
"Oh." There was a long silence then, and in it Julie realized she wanted the moment from the bench outside -- she wanted it back. "Hey," she said, "is it stuffy in here?"
Martin looked up and frowned. "Um -- "
But Julie was at a window before he could reply, and as she opened it wide she said, "Yeah, it's warm to me."
"Julie, we came in to warm up."
"Right, I know." She worked on opening the second window in the living room and then the kitchen and bedroom windows. "Now."
The cold air came after them. It whipped in and made the screens whistle. Julie closed her eyes and she remembered -- "You said your grandma's room had a piano." The hair on her arms lifted and the back of her neck tingled.
"Yeah."
"Um -- well," Julie walked over to the far wall to Martin's right. She uncovered a keyboard. "It's not a real piano, but, I don't know -- " she blushed. "I don't know what I'm saying, Martin. Or doing. Look, tonight has been -- "
"Julie." Martin had a smile on his face. He heard what she was doing. "Julie." She was rushing around. He looked down at his hands and let a tear fall onto them. "Julie." This time she turned. With her hands full of clothing, dirty plates, and half-filled cups she stood and looked at him. "Look, will you -- "
"Hold on," she rushed to empty her hands. She came back to him. "What is it?"
"You don't have to clean up, really."
She was about to speak but thought better of it and led him to the couch.
"Sorry." He waved his hand. "I just thought, well, I thought once we were inside, I'd be able to see your apartment, you know, with better light."
"Oh." There was a long silence then, and in it Julie realized she wanted the moment from the bench outside -- she wanted it back. "Hey," she said, "is it stuffy in here?"
Martin looked up and frowned. "Um -- "
But Julie was at a window before he could reply, and as she opened it wide she said, "Yeah, it's warm to me."
"Julie, we came in to warm up."
"Right, I know." She worked on opening the second window in the living room and then the kitchen and bedroom windows. "Now."
The cold air came after them. It whipped in and made the screens whistle. Julie closed her eyes and she remembered -- "You said your grandma's room had a piano." The hair on her arms lifted and the back of her neck tingled.
"Yeah."
"Um -- well," Julie walked over to the far wall to Martin's right. She uncovered a keyboard. "It's not a real piano, but, I don't know -- " she blushed. "I don't know what I'm saying, Martin. Or doing. Look, tonight has been -- "
"Great. Tonight has been great."
And she laughed. She laughed at herself and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand even though there was no sweat.
"What is it?"
"Come sit with me, Martin. Let me play and that way I'll stop trying to talk."
He felt his way toward her, found the stool.
"It's a squeeze, but it'll be warmer this way." Their bodies touched along their sides from hips to shoulders, for the stool was just big enough. "Maybe you can work on the sun room."
And she played. He smiled and she played, and, somehow, they understood one another. Martin heard not only the notes and the wind in the trees outside and the air swirling inside, but also Julie; she sniffed regularly while she worked at the keys, but kept playing.
Soon, however, she laughed again and then began to cry.
"What is it?"
"Oh -- Martin, you said tonight has been great." She turned toward him as much as she could and smiled at him. The thought that he couldn't see her tears or smile flooded her. She went on, but slowly. "So, before I saw you tonight, I -- well, I was thinking, like, right before I saw you, that I didn't want to be here. That this apartment, oh, I don't know. I've spent a lot of time working up what things would be like by now...you know?"
"I do," Martin said.
"Tonight has been great. I've -- for me, it's been great for me." She wiped her nose and laughed. "I'm glad you can't see me right now." It was his turn to laugh. "Being with you tonight, it's shown me the corner I'm turning is, well -- that I've been ridiculous, I guess." She sighed.
"Julie, I knew my sight would be gone soon anyway. It really wasn't a surprise earlier. I thought I had a little more time, I guess, but -- " and he put his hand on her leg as he said, "this was unexpected. I could have been alone. But here we are."
"I'd be angry."
"Yeah, I'm sure I will be. But I've been distracted -- and you've been lovely."
"I'm going to play more, okay?"
"Okay." And then, unexpectedly, he said, "I don't know what else will change, but I like this. You and me."
Once Julie began, Martin welcomed the familiar sight of his grandma's house. He heard the music, but he saw the top of the house just over the oak trees. In a flash, he stood on the porch, the front door open so he could see through the hallway and into the back of the house. This is where the sun room spread out along the southern side, and he walked back to see the work he'd done over the last few weeks.
***
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