Are you sure about this? I heard a hesitant, slightly pleading voice on the line.
Alright, lets give it a go, I said, rolling my eyes a little.
I was twenty, studying at university and hunting for a sidegig. I spotted an ad in the local paper: Blind university lecturer needs a personal assistant I felt a pang of sympathy for the unknown bloke, so I rang straight away.
The next morning I was standing in front of a modest terraced house in Manchester. I knocked, halfheartedly. The door swung open and there he wasa sleepylooking man.
Come in, love. Whats your name? the blind fellow asked, sounding a bit flustered.
Emily, I replied, a little embarrassed.
George Whitfield, he said.
I could really use your help, Emily. Your perfume is absolutely intoxicating. I teach History at the university and I need someone to read my lecture notes to me each evening. Ill commit them to memory. I have three teaching days a week. Deal? George said, already calling me Emily as if it were a habit.
I glanced around his flat. It was tidy, spare, nothing cluttered. George was no older than forty, neatly dressed, and somehow irresistibly magnetic.
Lets get started, George, I said, eager to dive in.
Months slipped bySeptember, February, May. Then the student holidays rolled around and George gave me the runaway until the next September. I booked a cheap holiday to Cornwall and, within a week, Id almost forgotten about my blind tutor. I met a charming chap, got swept up, and we set a wedding date.
At the end of August George called:
Emily, could you pop over tomorrow?
Oh, I cant, Im getting married. Im busy with the wedding, I chirped, thrilled.
Married? Already? Youre moving a bit fast, love, disappointment crept into his voice. Please, just come by! he pleaded.
Fine, Ill pop in, I muttered, reluctantly.
The next day, a sweltering August afternoon, George opened the hallway.
Your perfume drives me mad, Emily. Come in, he said.
You know, my fiancé also loves this scent, I blurted out, feeling foolish.
Emily, how about we keep working together for another academic year? I cant do without you. Please say yes, he asked, his tone softening.
Alright then, lets get on with it, I replied, businesslike.
The more time I spent with George, the less I wanted to marry my fiancé. I even collected the marriage licence from the registry office and handed it back to my wouldbe husband. After all, a bride can always call off the wedding…
Soon George and I were on a firstname basis. While I read out his lecture notes, hed gently hold my hand. Hed close his eyeswell, they were already closedand inhale the heady scent of my perfume. It felt cosy, like we were sharing a secret world.
One icy evening I arrived shivering, begging for a hot drink. George tucked me into his favourite armchair, draped a blanket over my legs and said:
Sit tight, Emily, Ill be right back.
He disappeared into the kitchen, clattered about, then returned with a tray. He carefully set it down, orange slices and a small glass of brandy waiting.
Have a sip, love. Itll warm you up.
I sipped slowly, eyes on him, feeling a sudden urge to hug this unusual man, to soothe him. As the brandy went down, he leaned in, kissed me warmly, and wrapped his arms around me.
Emily, stay with me. Ill give you the whole world. Dont laugh.
Im not laughing, George. Youre so gentle My heads spinning, I murmured, feeling oddly calm and happy.
He whispered, almost reverently:
The blind can hear everything, the deaf can see everything.
The next morning his mother, Mrs. Whitfield, turned up with her usual earlymorning tea and biscuits. She didnt seem surprised to find me in the bedroom.
Good morning, dear. Were still in bed, arent we? George called out cheerfully.
No worries, love, have a liein. Ill sort you breakfast, she said, beaming as she moved to the kitchen.
Later, over a cuppa and toast, I asked:
George, I dreamed I was soaring up into the sky last night. Is that normal?
He sighed:
Emily, Im scared Ill get used to you. I know youre not truly mine. Its sad, love.
Mrs. Whitfield called out from the kitchen:
Breakfast is ready, you two!
We laughed, sipped tea, and ate.
Thanks, Mum. I have a lecture later, I need to prep. Emily, Ill see you later, George said, settling back into his armchair.
After closing the door, his mother whispered to me:
Emily, my sons truly fallen for you. Youve brought a slice of heaven into his life. I dont want him to end up in any sort of misery. As they say, you dont pick a blind man for a leader. Please, dont crush his spirit. You have your own sighted life ahead. Every blind man thinks hell suddenly see clearly before he dies. My George is already please, dont come back. Ill find a way to keep him steady.
I was stunned, torn. I knew George couldnt be a forever thing; he hadnt asked me to marry him. Still, I wasnt ready to just dump him, to betray what wed built. Id fallen for him, heart and soul.
So I started visiting only when his mother was out, avoiding any awkward moments with her.
A year passed. Our bond grew tighter, almost inseparable. The blind man gave me his own light. I told everyone I was going to marry a blind man. Then one day, I walked in and George said:
Emily, we shouldnt see each other any more. Im letting you go. Leave now.
My world shattered. Love lay in ruins, tears and hysterics followed. He hadnt seen, heard, or felt any of the nightmare I was living.
Ive been married twice now. Theres been passion, love, heartbreak. No ones ever matched George
