He got up, groped for my hand, and shook it. “James,” he proclaimed, “we’re gonna get along great.”
“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” I said, trying not to giggle.
“Well,” he conceded, “I have to admit that I’m a little nervous. I’m not usually this strange. Although my sister’s family would disagree.”
“Give me a family rundown,” I requested. “And what brings you here.”
“Ah, I can do that short and sweet,” he said. “My sister and her family are all that are left. I lived with her, her husband and two kids. I loved it, and I like to think they did too. But when they were caught by surprise with another pregnancy, I figured I had to do the noble thing and make room.”
“Very gallant,” I said.
“Shucks,” he said. “What can I say? You’ll probably be seeing them quite a bit, because they threatened to visit often. We’re pretty close.”
“Well, you’re one up on me,” I said.
I told him briefly about Vera, her husband, and Henny Penny Kenny.
“Sounds gruesome,” he sympathized. “Why do you bother seeing those two?”
“Vera brings them along,” I said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t.”
He was silent for a minute, then spoke up. “James, this is none of my business—incidentally, you’ll hear me say that a lot, right before I stick my nose into your business—but if you took the initiative on this relationship, you’d have control. Why not invite Vera out for lunch, without her husband or Henny Penny Kenny?”
“I never thought of that,” I admitted. I had never dared think of it, because it would have meant losing two-thirds of all of the human contact I had. But it suddenly felt like I didn’t need it as much as I used to.
A couple of hours later, when we had Jim Lehrer on, Jim broke the silence. “Trivia question,” he announced. “Name the first black woman to break the segregation barrier at the University of Georgia.”
“I don’t have the foggiest idea,” I said.
He turned up the volume on the TV “Her,” he announced. “Charlayne Hunter-Gault. Got her degree in journalism.”
“How on Earth do you know that??”
His voice lost its good humor. “When I lost my sight to diabetes when I was sixteen, the only thing that kept me sane was books. Talking books, of course. I read everything and anything. Learned Braille, too. Somebody’s done a good job of making that stuff available to blind people. I’m telling you, James, it saved my life.”
“Wow.” I was silent for a moment. “I was born without an optic nerve,” I said finally. I had never talked about this with anybody. “It was pretty damned rough, growing up blind. But I suppose losing it when you used to have it, that’s got to be even worse.”
“It was no walk in the park, I can tell you that,” he admitted. “Although, it made it possible for me to be able to tell you that Mary Ann was prettier than Ginger, too.”
I laughed in surprise again. I got the feeling I was going to be doing a lot of that.
We waited until the show was over—and then we broke out our canes and went down to dinner.
“I would introduce you around,” I said, feeling embarrassed, “but I don’t know many people.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jim said. “I’ll manage. You just get me there, OK?”
“OK,” I said. “Notice, here where the carpet stops. It’s ten paces on the tile, and then you get to two steps.”
“Ten paces, two steps,” Jim repeated.
“And then you’re in the lounge area that doubles as the waiting area for the dining room. There’s chairs everywhere, but I usually use the ones to the right, along the wall.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jim observed.
“Have a seat,” I said. “I’ll check in with the concierge.”
“Concierge?” Jim repeated. “This is a very classy joint.”
I laughed and headed toward the concierge. Behind me, I heard Jim saying, “Hi, my name’s Jim Thompson. I’m new here.” A group of elderly voices answered in a chorus of welcome.
I had lived here for years, and had never had the nerve to do that.
When we were seated, Jim was enthusiastic. “Did you know there’s a couple here who used to be doctors in Indonesia? And a retired pastor who has written three theological books?”
“No,” I said, feeling humiliated. “I didn’t know.”
Rachel must have briefed him about me, because he didn’t act surprised, or ask why. “Well, this is a cool place.”
I stuffed a forkful of potatoes into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer.
“They told me about a group they have named SUDS,” Jim continued. “It stands for Society of Undiluted Danes.”
“I wouldn’t qualify,” I said.
“Well, I wouldn’t either,” Jim said. “But they said they offer Honorary Memberships to anyone. They said their sole purpose is to get together and laugh a lot. I mentioned I’d like to join, and they told me, hell, then you’re already a member!’ It seems like there are a lot of friendly people here.”
I put down my fork. “Where exactly do you get all of this enthusiasm?”
“What?”
“You’re sounding like Pollyanna. Where do you get it?”
“I hope I’m not getting on your nerves, James.”
I surprised myself by spontaneously telling the truth. “No, as a matter of fact, I like it. But how do you do it?”
He chewed and swallowed before answering. “As a matter of fact, James, it’s plain old hard work. When I went blind, I spiraled down, big-time. I stared into a huge abyss, and pulled back just in time. And I decided that the bad things in life are just gonna come, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And the good things in life, well, you’ve got to work for them. Which is hardly fair, but if that’s the way it is, then you either work for the good things, or you wallow in crap until you die.”
“Been there, done that,” I muttered.
“Hey,” Jim added. “You don’t play chess, do you?”
“A little.”
“Well, we ought to play. As a matter of fact, I should look into forming a chess tournament.”
This guy had energy and enthusiasm like I’d never seen before. “I’ll wipe up the board with you,” I said, trying to match his style.
He chuckled. “We’ll see about that. After dinner, in our room: Pawns at twenty paces.”
Maybe Rachel was right about having a roommate.
Rachel came up to us at dinner the next night, sounding as cheerful as usual. “Hi, guys, how’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” I admitted. “How about you?” With all my might, I wished I could come up with something less banal to say to her.
“I can’t complain,” she said. “I came to tell you about the mall trip next week. The bus leaves at nine, if you’re interested.”
“Not really,” I said automatically.
“What’s a mall trip?” Jim asked.
“Something we do once a week,” Rachel said. “We just supply a bus to the mall, so if you want to go and get something, we’ve got transportation arranged.”
“What the heck,” Jim said. “I’ll try anything once.”
“Great!” Rachel said. She squeezed my shoulder, which made my heart go kathump-thump, and then strode briskly off.
“Why don’t you go on these mall trips?” Jim asked, cutting his meat.
“What’s the point?” I asked sullenly. “You buy stuff you don’t need, pretending you can’t hear people whisper, ‘hey, lookit the blind guy.’ Who needs it?”
Jim chewed thoughtfully. “Well, James, maybe you’re right. But maybe you’re overlooking the value of a change of pace, of getting out more, and coming out of your fortress once in awhile.”
Jim had a way of talking that made me listen. “I’ll think about it,” I said.