Summery: She skipped her session for a break, while he skipped his for a breather.
His presence was something different. The way he walked with pride, how his steps sounded very deep and thick. He had surly served in the army, if not he must have done something related to that. His musk somehow gives off power and the smell of outside. But non the less his scent was pleasing on some levels.
He would always be scribbling down notes, or typing away on that one computer he always manages to slam over the hard wood tables. Muttering was second nature to him, he was always going on about ‘Steve this, and Steve that’ with the occasional ‘Sam that bird shit,’ it never made scenes. I’m pretty sure it didn’t make scenes to anyone in general. But he was my mystery man. He was the guy who I looked forward to seeing after he had made it to the third meeting of our secret day- it somehow became an unspoken promise, a pack between the two of us that we would relish in the feeling of each other every Friday afternoon.
He never said much, hardly anything. If it wasn’t for the soft murmurs I would have pegged him as mute. His murmurs did sound attractive in his own way, never wanting to admit to a complete stranger of course. I don’t even know the guy.
Making my way to my table, I was happy to find that he still wasn’t there, last week he had come early, throwing a snide remark of how I had come been late- when in reality he seemed afraid I had ditched our pack.
And then it hit me, it wasn’t only I who looked forward to these meetings- even tho all we did was sit in silence- he had enjoyed my presence. He would always come, that at least I was certain of without a doubt.
So, placing all my things down neatly, just like any other time. I got ready to start the day with him. I wished to ask him things, to know him for him and not what ever lies my brain made up of him.
So far, my brain had concluded he’s an old man who was probably single. He didn’t sound like he was married, my mystery man would most likely be labeled as ‘Married to his work’ kind of guy.
“You don’t understand Steve,” Thick boots stomped down over the carpeted tile. “I don’t feel like it.” His voice was ruthless, almost elegant. He showed power, his sentences cut to the point in ways bluntness wasn’t a problem. “I don’t care, I’m not a kid, I can take care of my damn self. Tell Stark I don’t need his pity charity.” He grunted, probably having to deal with idiots on the other end. “I don’t care, tell him to screw his damn money, if that would be all I’m a little busy.” Leaving no room to argue he went ahead and clicked the end, as three consecutive beeps were heard.
So I waited, a bit scared he might be afraid and lash out over whatever I would do. His tone was arrogant almost, if not then I would say someone who had enough of shit being served to him.
He didn’t take his time, placing his computer and book, and then I mustered up all the courage I could, softly, and slowly, I muttered. “Are you fine…?” It then followed by an even softer, “Why are you angry…?”
I didn’t really expect him to answer, it was more of worry statement. But his gruff voice before had sounded exactly what I would have pictured him to be. And having him speaks to me directly almost made me blush scarlet red.
“I’m just fine.” Like that, I guessed he went back to typing. The key bored clicking as it released a rhythmical tone. He typed fast, as if his life depended on it. I would guess he writes reports, since all he ever does was just sit there and shake the table with his aggressive writing. Sometimes I would move a little from the table my phone in hand and buds in my ears. Listening to the book while having the volume a little low. Just incase he wanted to say something.
The clock ticked about and three rolled over, I stood, ducked my head a little and muttered my good buys. I felt his eyes on me, my conclusion was only approved with the fact he stopped typing. And so, his muttering of a gruff reply left me smiling the whole week.
Stark, Mr. Stark… Tony Stark.
He let it slip last week without realizing. Or, I let it go over deaf ears… he said something about not needing Tony Starks money. It should have clicked then, he was a working man- at least that my brain had guessed right. The typing and angry frustrated mumbling should have been a key factor.
My brother usually does it now, his irritable silent talking was getting the better of him. Always mumbling things dark under his breath as he went about talking to whatever inanimate object was before him- Telling a pencil it was useless and ugly when the top broke off-.
So my brother came home from work, muttering things about charity and the name, ‘Mr. Stark…’ It was like cold water had been washed over my body. Like a door opened up that I didn’t know was closed. I finally knew something about him, without having to ask. It seemed funny, how my days would always be spent spoofing around about him while he had a life of his own.
Then I found my self asking brother many things about this so called charity. He didn’t say much, considering he wasn’t even in the division. All he had to offer was Mr. Stark selected people to be sponsored by him, he said they had great ideas, something that could shape up the future. How Stark industries was looking for a new head.
All the new information was feeding my imagination. If my mystery man had dedicated time from his life to attend the library every Friday, do his work, and bark about how he 'Didn’t need charity money’ I would say he’s filthy rich. He matched that new story very well, a gay rich man who just so happened to work for Stark industries. He must be married to that other man named Steve… And then I was stumped over that one time he mentioned someone called Sam… could be his daughter or a pet…
The week however was spent talking to my brother, about everything he knows for this charity. Non the less, Friday afternoon came
Rolling around like Any other week.
Walking over to the table, I sat down, waiting for my mystery man. After a couple of minutes, his musk and stops came crumbling down over the chair before me- it was more of a miracle the librarian still hasn’t banned him from the place.
“Your brother works for Tony Stark.” He didn’t even bother acknowledging a normal 'Hello’ or 'Hi’ Just a statement about my brothers personal life.
I was startled at first, his voice was toneless, meaning he didn’t even sound excited that he found something on me, or worried that my brother is working for someone he knew.
“Y-yes…” My voice trailed uncertain, I was waiting for him to continue his conversation since he was the one who had initiated it from the start. Receiving non, I went ahead to ask, “How did you know…?”
He hummed, “He works like a a lost dog for Tony, Steve asked him why so your brother said it was going for your eye operation…” He didn’t want to say more then what he had already revealed about his social life, “So your not born blind?” His words were something new.
Like he didn’t care he was practically hitting the bulls eye with each of his words. He didn’t sugar coat it either, he didn’t coo his self around the words. No, he just plain out asked about it. Like it wouldn’t even hurt my feelings. “No, I wasn’t always blind.” I had my fingers wrap around my phone just under the table over my legs.
He hummed, then shut down his computer. “Then why in Hell do you come here, your blind.” He started, scotching his chair. “You can’t read or anything.” He continued his voice void of any emotions. “A library would be the last place a blind girl would enter.”
He didn’t let me explain, instead, he went ahead and continued to intricate me. “Doesn’t it bother you, your brother is working day and night just for your operation while you spend the day in a library?” He sure was blunt. For a second I felt sorry for who ever has to work for him. Or even with him for the matter. He doesn’t understand personal space. Just a few days ago I had the same urge to ask for his information like this.
“I don’t know.” I started. Holding my hand up for him to stop talking. “Of course I feel bad, even when I told him not to he still wants to help…” Why…? “Because we’re family. Were brother and sister, he loves me.” Just like any other siblings. “When I get better, I will repay him without a doubt.” My explanations were all over the place. I knew he was staring me down, oh what I would give to see him. “I come here because I can.”
He stayed silent. I was afraid he went back to typing and writing, but then he surprised me, “You look useless.”
It was so strait forward, so real, so honest, so… him, that it just felt fine. It felt fine to be called that, it felt fine because I know I’m useless at this stage. Having no vision…? I would give up my scenes of sound just to see again. He never sugar coated anything- everyone around me would be scared to even initiate a conversation with me because their afraid they might 'trigger’ me. Such fools. For years now, I haven’t felt human, “I know.” I whispered, “I’ve been blind for almost 4 years now. I would say 3…” What I would give to know something about him… anything. But I’ll wait, afraid I might scare him off, I’ll let him ask me personal questions, but I won’t because I’m afraid. I’ll find a way, I’ll be sneaky and I’ll find a way to get around to ask his name without him knowing. I’ll let it slip by…
“Mom, dad?” He asked, he most likely had his hands crossed over his chest. Staring me down with the most intense eyes there is.
“Mom, works as a nurse. Dad works at a car dealership. He hurt his hip so he’s home most of the time now.” I explained, placing a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “You already know about my brother…”
“Yes.” He stated. What kind of man is he? What kind of human being talks like this… he’s so strait, strict and blunt. “Why Tony Stark…?” My mystery man asked, this time, his voice was curious. From all the jobs my brother could have chosen… he went to Mr. Stark.
“He pays a lot, first person who accepted my brothers application-”
“-His application was phenomenal. Who ever he was applying for was stupid enough to let him slip.” The mystery man explained.
It then clicked. He could tell me what he worked as, why my brother never liked to tell us what he does. Just what could my brother be so good at?
“By any chance… could you please tell me what he does…?” I came closer to the table, letting my phone stay over my legs. My hair came between my cheeks and my face inched closer.
“He didn’t tell his family?”
“Then it’s not my place to say. Just know, he’s extraordinary.”
“He doesn’t clean toilets and hand out mints?”
Like that, the sound of a pen scribbling over paper was heard. I let my head hang low, I was debating weather or not to ask him. To demand at least something. But he was so rude. God knows if he would even acknowledge me.
“Tell me something about you.” Before I even knew it, the words slipped from between my chapped lips.
“I already knew that, something that I don’t, please.” He was looking for loop holes. He wanted me to stop asking, that I know. It was laced around his tone, the way he sighed and slammed the pen over the table in annoyance. I almost felt bad for annoying him, then again, it’s not like I had asked that much.
“What do you want to know?”
He didn’t say anything after that, and stayed expecting him to continue, my eyes were open as wide as plates. But then the keyboards clicking over took the silent library. And I hung my head and listened to my book, placing it over median sound just incase he would say something. Crossing my hands over the desk and laying my head letting his fuming typing lull me to a blissful state of relaxation, for another few hours until my phone’s alarm clock knocked over the narrator indicating it was time to go.
I stood up, placing my phone in my tote bag, and wrapped my scarf, before buttoning up my jacket. Just as I pushed my chair, he said, “I adore Plums.” He didn’t even pick up his hands from his work, instead it was like he was placed on auto tune and just stated that one fact like it was nothing.
My mood was instantly brightened. What was a soft frown now a grin starching all the way over to my ears, pearly whites on display. I nodded like a mad man, “Thank you!” I felt like hugging him, but that scared me… just how close am I to this stranger…? Why was I already feeling the urge to step into his personal bubble…? A very warm feeling overtook the pit of my stomach. I didn’t understand why, but he makes me happy… and I hope he would for the rest of my blindness…
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