A rush of electricity ran up through Kayley as she seated herself beside Garrett. She felt slightly out of place. He looked quite dapper in his faded jeans and white polo. She, however, was still clad in her pajamas. She didn't mind it too much, though. She was the type of girl who referred lounging around in her pajamas or "couch clothes". Every now and then, she did enjoy dressing up.

She looked up into Garrett's face. He looked like he was trying to get ready to say something. His head was slightly turned in thought and his brows were scrunched. He inhaled deeply as he began to speak.

"Kayley, do you remember that email I sent you?" I asked her.

"Yes, you mentioned that you had something important to talk to me about. I have been scratching my head trying to figure out what it could be." She answered.

"You told me in one of your emails that your father worked in the police and was killed when he tried to protect someone ten years ago."

"Correct." she affirmed.

"Well, ten years ago, a very good friend of mine, who was also a mentor to me, also was killed when he tried to protect someone. After the email from Ruber, my suspicions concering your father's identity were accurate. I knew your father, Kayley. I would not be who am I today if it weren't for him." I told her.

"You were the kid he helped through the organization that found mentors for traumatized teens?! You know, the day Ruber nabbed me, I'd gotten an email from a friend of mine, Merlin Masters. I call him M'nM, though. Anyway, in his email he warned that rumors of Fitzgerald being back in town were going around. He said to contact Mum and Arthur immediately. I was trying to think of anyone else that Dad and Ruber both knew that Ruber would try to contact. That's why when he asked me who my last two emails were from, he demanded I give him yours!" she cried in realization.

"Merlin Masters was the computer genius who helped your father and Arthur on many cases. I haven't thought about him in years. Your mother mentioned to me that since you were twenty you have been trying to locate Fitzgerald. You hired Masters to track him down, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes. He has been helping us the past two years. I wanted to hire him, but when he found out who my family was he said he would do it free of charge. I am so thankful he did, because I make just enough to pay rent and get by." she sighed.

"That was quite good of him." I said.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the rest of what I had to tell her.

"Kayley, did your father ever tell you what happened to me?" I prodded, trying to see how much she might know already.

"He told Mum and I that he was working on getting to befriend a young man who was around my age. That he was a good sport, but was really stuck inside a shell. Dad had wanted to introduce me to you. He said that my 'spunky personality' would pull you out of your shell." she answered.

Laughing as I replied, I told her, "You know, before I began to suspect you were Lionel's daughter, I had thought that about you. Your personality did help me to come out of my shell."

I remembered that I'd wanted to ask how she and her mother knew about sighted guide. "There's something I have been wanting to know too. When I first met your mum, she offered to guide me out to Arthur's car. She knew the exact things to say and do. Then, when we were leaving the basement, you also knew what to do and say with guiding...minus that yank," I chuckled before continuing, "Knowing the proper things to do and say when guiding a blind person is referred to as 'sighted guide.' There's very specific ways to do it that allows the sighted individual to provide help, but still giving the blind person room to control their own bodies. Most sighted people automatically assume that a blind person needs help. Without permission, the sighted person will drag and yank the blind individual to where they think they should be. You and your mum knew what to do. How did you know?" I asked.

"Soon after volunteering at the place he met you, he also began taking lessons down at the rehabilitation center for blind individuals. He said that he felt it important to learn first hand about something called 'O and M.' I don't remember what it stands for." she answered.

"Orientation and Mobility Training." I stated.

"Right! That's exactly what it was! He went there a few times. The class he observed gave examples and lessons on sighted guide. He wanted to show Mum and I what he'd been learning. He showed us the right way versus the wrong way in how to guide a blind person. He said that he thought we would need to use those skills eventually... but he never said why." she explained.

I tried to keep myself from choking up. I never knew that Lionel had done so much to work with me. My mother signed me up for that program a year after the accident. The organization didn't have specific regulations saying that a volunteer had to have this or that knowledge. I do remember them saying that it was better if a volunteer do some homework on how to better help their charge. Because of Lionel's easy going, helpful personality, I'd just assumed he figured out what to do along the way of getting to know me. The fact that he went the extra mile to specifically learn what to do, and teach his family because he planned on introducing me to them, was overwhelming.

"Garrett, are you alright?" Kayley asked me.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Yes, I'm quite alright. I just never knew he did that. It means a lot. That would make sense on why you and your mother knew what to do. He taught you two because he planned on introducing me to you guys. A couple days before he died, he told me he would call my mum and ask her if it would be alright if he picked me up that weekend to meet you and your mum. She'd said yes. I was nervous, but also really excited to meet his family. He talked about you and Julianna quite often. He was never able to come and pick me up that weekend because Ruber killed him that same week." I told her.

She didn't say anthing. Instead, she just grabbed my hand and waited for me to continue.

"It was really difficult after losing your father. He worked with me for a good while. I think he wanted to earn my trust before he brought me around his family. He knew that I needed to know he wasn't planning on going anywhere. See, the year before I'd met your dad, my father and I had gone to the grocery to pick up some things to make Mum a surprise breakfast. She was out with her sister having dinner. While she was away, we thought it would be fun to treat her the next morning. It was really dark out. We were halfway to the store when we turned out of a neighborhood onto the expressway. There was a red truck, whose driver was obviously drunk. He turned onto the expressway at the same time. He was directly in front of us turning out of the neighborhood that was on expressway's other side. We were there first and went on to turn left. The other driver wasn't paying attention and drove straight into us. The truck hit my dad's engine. The car exploded into flames. My father burned alive. I can still hear his agonizing screams. I would have burned with him, except that I somehow was flung out through the windshield. When I landed on the ground, I injured my head badly on the cement. My father didn't make it. I was so out of it when I fell that I couldn't make sense of up or down. I remember lying there...unable to move...knowing that Dad was burning to death and there wasn't anything I could do. We never knew what happened to the drunk driver. His body was never found. The police labeled it a hit and run. His neighbors came running out of their house. They told the police that his name was Mort Harrison. They'd seen it happen from inside their dining room window. They called for emergency services to come. I was rushed to the hospital. At first... everything was blurry. Colors faded into each other. People no longer had solid features...they all looked like moving blobs. They ran my dad's license number and was able to find my mum's contact information. When she got to the hospital, the doctors told her that I'd suffered from a severe traumatic head injury. The type that I had is called traumatic optic neuropathy, or TON. It results in irreversible sight loss. The only thing I can pick up on with my eyes is whether or not there's light.

Before I'd lost my sight, I tended to have some OCD tendencies. But, it was very minor. After the accident, I developed full blown OCD. Sometimes, people are gentically predisposed to certain obsessive traits or thought patterns. However, if they go through trauma it can trigger the need to feel like they control something in their life. Even if that something means everything is clean or that they know exactly how many footsteps they take in one hour. The root of it is anxiety which has a root in fear. The accident also caused me to develop PTSD. When I hear certain sounds or get around lots of noise it triggers mememories of the crash. My mind and body replay hearing my dad scream, seeing the car go up in flames, being thrown through the window...

When I learned I would never see again, I got really angry and depressed. I didn't want to be around anyone.

I used to believe in God, but He'd taken my dad from me. Why bother opening up to others for them to just leave or die?

I became so withdrawn. Mum thought if she didn't do something within the next year to help me heal, that I would completely lose it. She signed me up to go through the mentorship program at the organization where your father volunteered.

When I met him, he reminded me so much of my own father. He didn't judge me or treat me as less than. He got to know me and even checked in on my mother when she was at work. She was a hair dresser in one of the sketchy neighborhoods.

With his death, I'd lost another father figure. I left the mentorship program.

I barely survived in school. The kids were quite cruel. I stopped associating with anyone besides my mother. Four years ago, breast cancer beat her, but Mum didn't go down without a fight.

Six months before she passed, I'd graduated early from a course I'd taken to be certified to manage a website that sends packages out to reviewers. All I do is the business part. Someone else does the packaging and shipping. During those six months, I saved money to go and get a nice flat that was big enough for the both of us. As much care as she had shown me through my recovery and rehabilitation, I did my best to give her. She was all I had left in the world. When she died, I considered ending it. I knew that she, and Lionel, and my father would want me to press on. I decided I would, but it would be a solo career of survival. I didn't want to open my heart up to anyone again. If no one was in my life besides myself then I couldn't lose anyone. I'd already lost the only people who ever really mattered.

Being such a recluse and fearing people would automatically judge me as inferior, I developed social anxiety. I haven't bothered gettting to know anyone at all in four years- until I met you. Mum used to tell me that if I opened my heart back up to God and people, I would eventually heal. She was right.

And...I owe that to a certain damosel no longer in distress."

"I'm sorry for all of the pain you have been through. I'm glad that my father was able to play a part in your life. I haven't been through as much as you have, but I have had my own share of trials and tribulations.

I was always closer to Dad than I was to Mum. We are close now, but it wasn't always like that. I'm a carbon copy of my father. He and I just got each other. It was easy with him. Mum and I always butted heads. As an adult, I see that we have much more in common. After Dad died, Mum turned into an over protective mother-ninja. I was no longer allowed to associate with any of my friends after or outside of school. I not only lost my father, but also my social life. Mum smothered me for a long time. When I turned sixteen, I think she finally realized what she had been doing to me the previous four years.

As I got older, I was able to understand the reason she went overboard. She was terrified she'd lose me too.

And...you know...that certain damosel no longer in distress had a lot to learn about God and forgiving people. I was angry at Him for allowing my Dad to die. I was angry at Mum for trying to hide me away from the world. I was angry when others would tell me to just get over myself and grow up. They didn't know how hurt I was.

I learned that forgiveness isn't necessarily just something you do for others, but something you also have to do for yourself. If you never forgive and remain angry, you just make yourself grow bitter. Bitterness is like mold. It starts off small, and soon it spreads like a wildfire. Forgiveness acts as a rushing wave that puts the flames out." she said.

Her words deeply resonated with me. I understood all too well what she meant. I'd spent a very long time being bitter with life. It was a form of death in a way. Allowing bitterness to consume the heart kills all hope and joy in life. It makes souls turn into the walking dead. Thankfully, my hope and joy have been restored.

"Garrett, would you like to drink the coffee now? It might've gotten cold already." Kayley suggested.

"I forgot about the coffee!" I laughed. Stretching my arm out, I slowly leaned towards where I thought the table to be.

"I can get it for you if you'd like." Kayley offered.

"Just grab yours off the table so I don't get the wrong one, and I'll be good." I replied.

"I have mine already. Yours in right in front of you." she directed.

I grabbed the mug and took a sip. It had cooled some, but was still warm. If we had forgotten about the coffee any longer it would definitely have gotten cold.

"Last night as I was laying in bed, I realized I had done something to you twice." Kayley stated.

I had a feeling she was going to talk about ghosting on me. I stayed quiet and waited for her to continue.

"After we'd first met and you invited me to meet you under the oak tree in the park the next day, I left without telling you I was leaving. Yesterday, I did that to you again. The first time, nothing crazy happened because of it, but yesterday you got stuck on those steps with all of those people around you. My dad might have shown me how to accurately guide someone, but I still have a lot to learn. I'm sorry I ghosted on you. I was taken aback when you asked me to meet you under the oak tree. Not in a bad way, I was just shocked. Guys don't usually seem to be interested in hanging out with me. And yesterday, I was so overwhelmed with all that had happened I just needed to get away. Still, it wasn't fair to just walk out on you without letting you know where I'd be." she said.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. You're not completely at fault. I should have talked to you about that months ago. I never did. Talking about the adaptations I have to make has never been easy. It becomes even more difficult when I open up to others and have to ask them to make adaptations. Its humiliating having to ask others to do things I used to be able to do on my own. I still do as much as I can without asking for help. I want to hang on to as much independence as I can. Because of that, I put off having certain conversations with you." I explained.

"I'm sure it's difficult having to make those changes...especially having to ask others to make adaptations on your behalf. I don't know what that's like. However, I think your viewpoints of it being humiliating and having independence are skewed." she replied.

Again, her talent for bluntness made itself present. I like her honesty- it is refreshing. But, what did she mean about my viewpoint veing skewed?

"Care to explain?" I asked after taking another sip of my coffee.

"Asking for help isn't humiliating. Having someone pants you at school is humiliating. Learning to ask for help, whether or not one is blind or sighted, is being humble. Admitting that you can't control everything means breaking down your pride. Asking for help is not humiliating, rather, it shows one has humility.

Similar situation when it comes to the terminology of the word 'independence.' Our culture has a warped understanding that being independent means you don't need anyone. It is actually quite the opposite. We are social creatures. You know better than a lot of people the negative effects that happens to a person when they are cut off from others. It is not about being IN-dependent. It is also not about being DE-pendant. People who consistently leech off of others financial, spiritual, and emotional energies is one whose morality is flawed. We are not to be IN-dependent or DE-pendent. We are to be INTER-dependent. One of my favorite quotes by American author, Tom Sullivan, goes like this: Consider the exquisite nature of creation; every creature is dependent upon another to survive."

"Ms. Reeves, I have a feeling there's a lot that I am going to learn from you." I said. She sounded like an ancient mystic from eons past.

"I think there's a lot that I have to learn from you too." she responded.

"What could you possibly learn from me? How to feel sorry for yourself?" I asked.

"No. I don't need help in that department. I think each human instinctually knows how to feel sorry for themselves.

I can learn many valuable lessons from you, Garrett. Things like perseverance and self-sacrifice. You could have given up on everything a long time ago, but you pressed on. When it was more convenient for you to stay at your flat, or even in Arthur's car, you chose to go well beyond your comfort zone to save me." she answered.

"Thank you." I said.

She laughed, "For what? You are the one who contacted my family, rescued me from the basement, and knocked Ruber down so Arthur could detain him."

I answered, "Thank you for your positivity and kindness to look past my wounds and see the good even when I can't."

"Thank you for doing the same for me. I think most people see their flaws and believe that their flaws are what define them as a person. It takes others to point out and continue to draw forth the good. That is what it is to be interdependent."

I smiled, "I see what you mean."

"I think that our discussion on philosophy has made our coffee go completely cold by now." she giggled.

"Let's see." I said before I took a sip.

Quickly, I spat it back into the cup. I can't stand cold coffee. Americans might have a thing about iced teas and coffees, but I am English. No ice unless it is hot outside. Usually it doesn't get anywhere near scorching in the U.K.

"I take it that it's too cold, then?" Kayley laughed.

"Very." was my reply.

"Here, I'll take it and throw it into the garden." Kayley said.

"Thanks. By the way, there were two other things I wanted to ask you." I stated.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Firstly, I'd really like it if you would give me your phone number. Secondly, and most important. would you meet up with me under the oak tree tomorrow evening?" I asked.

"Sure, that'd be really nice." she replied.

I saved her number into my phone and went back to my flat a few hours later.

I went to bed, but hardly slept. I laid awake planning each detail for the following night.

I was very excited about the conversation I'd had with Kayley today. We made confessions and established a deep connection.