I open the man hole and poke my head out. I don't sense anything so I beckon Mike to follow. We climb out of the man hole and I can feel him looking around. He's tall and lanky, almost like he doesn't fit his body quite yet. His hair feels messy and his ears feel bumpy. Oh, that must be piercings on his ear.
"So, do you know where we are?" Mike asks and pulls me from my thoughts.
"On 5th street next to the butcher shop," I respond. Mike looks around and then makes a noise of rememberance.
"I see where we are," Mike says and pulls me towards the sidewalk. His hand feels really big and I can feel his pulse racing. We walk for a few minutes and then stop.
"I was going to go back to my house. Do you think it's safe to go back?" he asks.
"I think it lost our scent. It should be fine to go back," I let my hand relax thinking he'd say goodbye. Instead he grips my hand and says, "Good." We walk back to his house in silence. I can feel him digesting what just happened and wonder when he'll realize how weird I am. I mean, I'm blind yet I can feel my surroundings? That just spells "freak" all over it. He kept holding my hand though. After awhile I could feel tremors coming from it. As much as he wanted to look strong he was scared about what was going on. He seemed to realize this and said in a shaky voice, "As soon as we get inside, tell me everything you know, 'kay?" I nodded in response. We walked up to his apartment and he ushered me inside. The apartment felt like it had recently been cleaned but not very well.
"Sorry about the mess," Mike apologized.
"I'm blind remember? it doesn't matter what it looks like," I lied. It always seemed to reassure people when I constantly reminded them I was blind.
"But you can sense stuff right?" Mike asked. I blinked. Nobody had ever believed me when I said that.
"Right?" he asks again. I nod silently.
"Do you want something to drink? I'm dying of thirst," Mike says as he heads towards another room, which I assume is the kitchen.
"Sure," I reply. I look, feel around and see a guitar leaning against the wall.
"Do you play?" I ask. I walk over to it and lightly touch the strings.
"Yeah, I taught myself," he answers. He comes back with two glasses of water and hands one to me. I thank him and clears off the couch for us to sit on. After a couple of sips and awkward seconds of silence he says, "Okay, tell me everything."
"Alright. Whatever that thing is it's been tormenting me for quite awhile but no one else can see it. I always thought I was insane or something because everybody seems to see something else. Like I sense something attacking me and I can feel people look at me like 'what are you doing?' I don't know where it comes from but I know there are more like it," I explain.
"There are more?" Mike asks. I nod and say, "The ones that stay on the ground I can usually run away from but the ones that fly terrify me. They'll come out of nowhere and attack me. Sometimes they've even picked me up and then dropped me."
"You've been doing this by yourself?" he asks. I nod again.
"Where are your parents?" I take a sip of water.
"I never knew my parents. I was put into an orphanage when I was a baby and stayed there until I was seven. When I told the woman there about what attacked me she thought I was possessed and kicked me out. She was very religious. I've been on my own ever since," I replied quietly. We were silent for awhile. His pulse had calmed down and wasn't shaking anymore.
"So what about you?" I ask, wanting to change the subject, "Where's your parents?"
"My mom just went on a trip for a week and I don't know who my dad is. He left before I was born. My mom said he was an awesome musician and that she pushed him to pursue his career, even if that meant leaving us," Mike shared.
"So you get the musical talent from your dad?" I asked.
"Yeah I guess so," Mike sighed, "Well, what do we do now?"
"Well, probably get cleaned up, because who knows what was in that sewer and then go on with our lives," I answered.
"Oh makes since. You can use the shower first if you want. It's on the left," he reaches for the TV remote and flicks it on.
"Really?" I ask. I've never met anyone this generous. Or accepting for that matter.
"Sure," he answers. He's not really looking at me and I realize he's still trying to grasp what I told him. I walk to the bathroom and lock the door. I step in the shower and try to figure out which one's shampoo and which one's conditioner. The thicker one I think is shampoo and the thinner one is conditioner. As I'm in the shower, I think about everything that happened. This kind of attack happened every day but it was unusual to find someone who could see the attack and get attacked themselves. Add the acceptance and kindness, this was one of the weirdest but best days of my life. I braided my hair, found a hair tie, and walked back out to the living room. Mike was still sitting on the couch but now he had a sandwich in his hand.
"You all done?" he asks with his mouth full.
"Yeah," I chuckle. He realizes his mistake and swallows.
"My mom always tells me to talk when I'm done eating. Guess I never listen," he says and he finishes the sandwich.
"Well I better get going," I say.
"Oh you can stay if you want," he says. The offer is much more tempting than I think and I shake my head.
"I don't want to impose and I should probably get home before it turns dark," I reply.
"You can tell when it gets dark?" he asks. I shake my head and say, "I can feel the time." His mouth makes an "O" shape and he nods his head.
"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asks.
"No, but thank you. For tonight, I wouldn't go out again. If you get attacked tomorrow either run away or hit it with a big stick," I advise. He nods thanks and I head out the door. As I'm walking down the stairs, I get the feeling this isn't the last time we'll run into each other. That makes me oddly happy.