Walter Mosley
Odyssey
In memory of Jean Bethke Elshtain
Part One
“Ouch! Damn!” Sovereign James muttered when he bumped into the unexpected second door to the entrance of the East 86th Street address. It was his first appointment with Dr. Seth Offeran at the building on the north side of the block between Madison and 5th.
“Let me get that for you, sir,” a man said.
Hearing the voice a host of assumptions and physical bearings leapt to Sovereign’s mind.
The speaker was young, probably white, and he worked for the building, most likely a doorman. Sovereign was also pretty sure that the young white man was not in the vestibule. The voice sounded like it came from another room, through a window or something like that.
He heard the click and slide of a lock and the young man, whose voice had come from the left, was now before him saying, “Come on through, sir.”
James took three steps, enough to cross the second threshold and clear the arc of the door in case it opened inward.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Dr. Offeran,” Sovereign James said, turning his head twenty degrees to face the source of the question.
“Easy. Take eight or nine steps forward and you’ll come to a wall. From there you turn left and keep on going. The first door you pass on the right will be the Craigson Group. The buzzer is on the left side of the door, I’d say about chest level for you.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Holding his left hand out tentatively, Sovereign took eight steps, felt nothing, went half a pace more, and his fingers made contact with the wall. He stopped there and turned to face back the way he had come.
“Excuse me,” he said into space.
“Yes, sir,” the voice replied cheerily. There were a few hard footsteps and then, at closer proximity, “What do you need?”
“You get a lot of blind people in here?”
“No more than anywhere else, I guess.”
Sovereign estimated that the voice came from a height equal to his own: a shade under six feet.
Details, he thought, details in the dark.
“I was wondering,” James said, “because your directions seemed to be designed for somebody like me.”
“Yeah,” the young man replied. Sovereign imagined that he heard a grin behind the word. “My uncle Toad was blind and he’d tear your head off if you couldn’t explain exactly the place you were in and how to get around in it. He used to say, ‘If I want somebody’s hand on me I’ll hire a girl.’ ”
“I see. Did you like your uncle?”
“Not one bit. But my dad says that just because you don’t like somebody, that doesn’t mean you can’t learn from ’em.”
The contraction of them made Sovereign wonder about the young man’s origins.
“Your uncle was looking for independence and some dignity.”
“Yeah.” No grin there. “My dad said that too.”
Sovereign had hit a sour note and the conversation foundered for three or four seconds.
“Well... thank you,” the blind man said. He held out a hand in the general direction the voice had last come from.
“No problem.” A soft, sweaty hand grasped his. From the grip Sovereign thought that the doorman might have been carrying a few extra pounds.
“Let me ask you something,” Sovereign said.
“What’s that?”
They released each other.
“You say your uncle’s name was Toad?”
“His real name was Theodore. I guess they could’ve called him Tad or Ted or even Teddy but he was so bad tempered that those names didn’t really fit.”
Of late Sovereign enjoyed topics like this. Conversations where there was no visual aid involved, no light or shade or color. He felt a smile cross his face and thought about the warmth of sunlight on his skin.
“Just turn right,” the young man said. “Follow the wall and keep going till the first door you come to.”
Sovereign nodded, turned, and made his way along the barrier, like a sightless bug, he thought, moving forward more by instinct than purpose.
After eleven steps the air around him changed, became closer. Underfoot the hard floor was suddenly carpeted. Sovereign James assumed that he had entered a first-floor hallway. Reaching out he touched the wall to his right. It had no definite texture, neither hard nor very soft. Maybe it was plasterboard or wallpapered wood. He tried to imagine the length of the hall or if it were brightly lit, but these estimations were beyond him.
Five steps after he entered the hallway Sovereign’s fingers trailed over the outer edge of a doorframe. There, at chest level as the doorman had promised, was a small rectangular button that protruded slightly. It was warm to the touch. There was probably a small lightbulb underneath.
Smiling at the secondhand feel of light, Sovereign wished that he had asked the doorman his name. He pressed the button three times — one long, one short, and one long — as he had been instructed to do. Then he stood there patiently as the world around him hummed and murmured, whispered and pinged.
Ninety seconds passed.
“Mr. James?” a man’s voice said.
The door opening made no sound. The hinges must have been well oiled and the doorknob mechanism too — or maybe, Sovereign thought, the lock was not engaged and anyone with the knowledge could just push his way in.
“Dr. Offeran?” James held out his right hand.
A strong, meaty fist grabbed him by the knuckles and then he was being pulled forward, guided by another hand at his elbow. The blind man resisted briefly and then allowed himself to be ushered forth in this manner.
He didn’t resent the help — not exactly. It was just that when people took him physically through new spaces his mind went blank and lost focus. After his benefactors were gone he had no idea of where he was or how to make his way back to familiar surroundings.
But this was different. Dr. Offeran wasn’t a passerby do-gooder. He’d still be there to show the way out when the appointment was over.
“Right this way, Mr. James. We’re going through the waiting room to my office. Go right ahead.” After three steps, a pause, and then, after four more steps, the hand gripped his elbow and Offeran said, “There’s a couch right in front of you. Make yourself comfortable. Can I take your coat?”
“No, thank you.”
Sovereign felt for the couch with his shins and knees. When he was sure of its height and placement he took off the thin trench coat, folded it with a rolling motion of his forearms, turned, and sat down.
Sitting on a new chair or sofa brought up anxieties for the newly blind Human Resources and employment officer. Even though he told himself that it was irrational, he’d often imagine broken glass or some sharp implement jabbing from the backrest into his kidneys.
“Well,” the modulated, medium-toned doctor said. “It’s good to meet you.”
“I guess,” Sovereign replied. “I don’t even know why I’m here really. I mean, I know why but I don’t see the purpose.”
“You were referred to me by Dr. Katz. Tom knows his business.”
“He couldn’t diagnose me.”
“Would you like to lie down, Mr. James?”
“No. No, thank you.”
“I always have my patients lie down on the couch.”
“You ever get bedbugs?”
“Never. You don’t have to worry about that. Now if you wouldn’t mind.”
“I do mind.”
A siren suddenly blared from outside. Hearing the high-pitched whine Sovereign could tell that there was an open window in the room. Turning his head he became aware of a slight current of air, proving his surmise.
“I’m afraid that I must insist,” Dr. Offeran said. “You know you have to go through this process in order to satisfy the insurance.”