Over the next few months, Skinner began to carry on what the rest of the League considered a full-blown romance with Emily Leigh. They called each other by their first names and were in each other's company as frequently as possible. Skinner made up excuses when he was wanted on missions with the League, telling her that he was away on business. Emily invited him to gatherings whenever there happened to be one at the theater or after a performance, so that the rest of the performers became quite used to seeing him there. The other League members found this romance bewildering at first. Skinner seemed serious about it, but he had never given the impression that he was the type to settle down. Not to mention that he, with all his irritating impudence, hardly seemed to be a good match for the timid Emily. There was also the added strangeness of their unique situations – he an invisible man, whom the world couldn't see, and she a blind girl, who couldn't see the world. They were quite the odd couple.
As for Skinner himself, he felt a strange sensation whenever he was with Emily, as though she were helping him to regain the innocence he'd never had. He'd been forced to skip the simple joys of childhood by his situation as an orphan. He'd learned stealth stealing what he'd needed to survive, until it had become second nature. He'd had a lover or two in the past, before he'd turned himself invisible. Of course, they'd all deserted him after that. But Emily was different. He loved her, truly loved her, and his invisibility didn't matter. He was as visible and real as anyone else she knew. As far as she was concerned, he was more than just a disembodied voice or a black coat and face paint. He was a man, just a man, without the 'invisible' tacked onto the beginning. What was more, he was a man she could love, did love, if he wasn't mistaken. In some strange way, Emily's disability was giving Mr. Skinner a whole new outlook on life. Around her, he felt so happy, so refreshingly normal, and he knew he didn't ever want to let her go.
However, there was one thing about the relationship that truly bothered the other League members. Since Skinner obviously never brought Emily aboard the Nautilus, and since Skinner also saw Emily quite frequently, Dr. Jekyll had repeatedly asked him to mention to Emily his theory that an operation could restore her sight. Though Skinner always promised to bring it up, it was apparent that, for whatever reason, it never quite got done. Finally, the doctor paid Emily a visit and posed his suggestion himself. Emily was naturally quite enthusiastic about the idea.
Upon Dr. Jekyll's return to the Nautilus, he joined the others for lunch.
"What took you off this morning, doctor?" Mina asked.
"I made a call," Jekyll told her matter-of-factly. Mina was surprised to hear this from the timid and reclusive Jekyll.
"To whom, may I ask?" she inquired.
"Miss Emily Leigh," said Jekyll. "I offered her my help, if she should desire it."
"You didn't!" Skinned shouted, jumping up from his place at the table.
"I know you don't approve, Mr. Skinner, but I felt it my duty as a physician," said Jekyll.
Despite his face consisting of only white paint, it was evident that Skinner was furious. He stalked to his stateroom and slammed the door so loudly that everyone in the dining room could hear it. After locking the door, he proceeded to wash the paint off his face. As he did that, he chanced to catch sight of himself in the mirror, or what there was of him. He tried to remember what he looked like.
He found it quite difficult.
Come on, Rodney, he thought. You remember.
He leaned against the wall with his hands on either side of the mirror, staring intensely. There was nothing. He could see the room behind him, but of his face he saw nothing.
You 'ad red hair, an'…wot color eyes?
He tried to focus on where his eyes would be.
Were they green? Or wos it gray? Blast it, wot color were they!
These thoughts sent him into a state of near panic. How could he forget what he looked like? It was basic. You knew it from the time you were old enough to know anything. If someone asked you what color your eyes were, you knew.
Yet here he was, a grown man, and he didn't know. He had no way of knowing.
How could anyone want to know a man who didn't know himself, not even the color of his own eyes? Was this what people meant when they spoke of identity crises? He doubted it. There weren't many people who would forget what they looked like.
Then he thought of Emily. If she allowed Jekyll to perform the surgery, things would be over between them. They would have to be over. After all, how could Emily be expected to carry on a relationship with a man she couldn't see? The moment she saw him, she wouldn't see him, as she did now. She would see the Invisible Man, as everyone else did. She would see him for the freak that he was. If she ceased to see him, who else would be able to? If he were to continue courting her, he would have to prevent the operation from taking place. He set off at once to see her.
"John!" she exclaimed when she answered his knock. "I'm so glad you're here! I have much to tell you."
Skinner kissed her hand, as was his customary greeting for her, and she led him into the room.
"Your friend, Dr. Hyde, was here this morning," she told him as she searched for the teapot in the special way she had. Skinner watched her and realized that he'd never noticed how graceful her way of searching was, not awkward in the slightest. She was obviously used to doing it. Her hand found the teapot, and she proceeded to search for two cups. She brought everything over on a tray.
"The doctor told me something so wonderful…so completely wonderful, John," she said as she took a seat opposite him. "You'll never believe it. He told me that I might see again!"
Skinner hesitated before answering. There was such joy on her face, written on her every feature. The one thing in the world she wanted, something she thought she could never have, was before her. Who was he to take it away, even for the sake of wanting her love? But could he face the consequences? Could he sacrifice the freedom and the newfound identity that her blindness gave him? Could he sacrifice Emily herself? Was he strong enough to let her go?
Not by a long shot.
"Emily," he said softly. Emily looked surprised by his tone.
"What is it?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Actually, yes," said Skinner. "The procedure…Oi…Oi cannot recommend it. Not even for the sake of moy friend."
"Can't recommend it?" Emily asked in a state of apparent shock. "But…why?"
"It just isn't safe," said Skinner. Tears sprang into Emily's eyes, and Skinner felt a pang of guilt for the first time in years as she tried to conceal them. That was the thing about Emily. She brought out emotions in him he didn't even know he had.
"Perhaps…perhaps I should reconsider," Emily faltered. Skinner almost felt like crying himself. He wanted to shout the truth out so loudly that the whole world would hear it. But what was done was done. He couldn't take it back now. She would surely despise him if she ever found out what he'd just done.
"Oi don't mean to hurt you," he told her. The mockery of his every word was like a slap to the face. Didn't mean to hurt her? What else could he possibly be doing if not hurting her?
"I know you don't," said Emily.
"Oi only did it because Oi love you," said Skinner. So now he was hurting her out of love? Great one, Skinner.
"There is hardly anyone in the world I would trust as much as you, John," said Emily. Skinner couldn't take much more.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Oi'm sorry."
He took his leave by giving her a kiss on the cheek and headed back to the Nautilus, in no particular hurry to arrive at his destination. When he did finally arrive, he spoke to no one and locked himself in his room. It was his way of escaping the world. At least when he was alone in his room he didn't have to feel like such an outcast. There were times he felt that he spent more time in his room than out of it.
Locking the door behind him, he turned and looked around. His eyes fell on the mirror, the hateful object that had started all of this. Overcome by anger and guilt, he rushed over and smashed it with his bare fist. Visible blood ran from invisible cuts down his invisible arm. He didn't care. He hopedhe bled to death. It was what he deserved. Allan Quatermain had been right about him all along. He was a barefaced liar.
Skinner sighed as he sat on his bed and started at the blood that ran down his arm. He felt as though he'd go mad if he had to stay like this another second. He had ruined his own life by his own selfishness, and that same selfishness had now compelled him to lie to Emily and to ruin her life. She had done nothing to deserve it. He felt so trapped by this complex web of lies he'd woven, some intentional, some not. If only he could start over. But he had made his decisions, no matter how conscious he'd been of doing so, and the consequences were his to live with.
Skinner had been born a fighter, never the sort to resign himself. But when would he learn to stop making decisions he had to fight against?
A knock on the door drew him out of his thoughts.
"May I come in?" Mina asked from the other side of the door.
"No, you may not," said Skinner crossly. "You know quite well that no one is allowed in moy room."
"What happened?" Mina pressed.
"Nothin' that concerns you," Skinner replied.
"Did you quarrel?" Mina asked. Skinner opened the door but didn't allow her to enter. Mina looked at his bleeding arm with surprise.
"We did not quarrel," said Skinner angrily. "Now will you koindly leave me to moy business before you droive me mad!"
So saying, he slammed the door. Mina stood there for a moment, trying not to show that she had been taken by surprise. Skinner was usually such a gentleman, however irritating some of his mannerisms might be.
He may deny it, but this is a quarrel and nothing else, she thought. Satisfied with this explanation, she continued on down the hallway.
