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“She did.”
Fierce pride swept through me. “Good for you, baby,” I murmured under my breath.
“She will be departing for Europe in four days,” Lucien said.
My head shot up. “Four days? The violin won’t make it in time.”
“I thought of that,” Lucien said. “Charlotte arrives in Vienna next week, but the tour doesn’t begin for two weeks after that. It is quite possible that we’ll have secured the violin by then and can send it prior to her first concert on July 2nd.”
“I wish I could just put it in her hands myself,” I muttered. “I’m happy for her, but goddamn, she’s going to be so far away.”
“Yes,” Lucien said. “Quite the whirlwind tour from what she told me. Seventeen cities in a month and a half.”
“Which only proves my suspicion that had I gone with her, she’d have spent all her time dragging my ass around instead of concentrating on her music.”
“Mmm.”
“But I’d like to hear her play,” I said, talking mostly to myself. “I’d really like that.”
“I have taken the liberty of researching a facility that will help you live independently,” Lucien was saying. “The Helen Keller Foundation. In Brooklyn. Quite reputable.”
“Oh. Great.”
“Perhaps you could spend the summer studying and then meet Charlotte in Europe on your own. Show her you have put the time and effort into fulfilling your promise by putting your newfound skills to the test.”
“What? Alone?”
The idea seemed preposterous. And frightening. I’d spent the better portion of my adult-non-visually-impaired life navigating the world’s cities and their airports. It was often a challenge as a sighted person. To do it blind? Impossible.
But as for the rest, I asked Charlotte to wait for me, but wait for what? And for how long? If I wasn’t going to make the effort to learn how to live blind, why the fuck did I leave her?
I waved a hand. “Yeah, go ahead. Sign me up. Classes, Braille, all of it.”
“Wonderful,” Lucien said. “I will make the arrangements this minute.”
I sighed. “Wonderful.”
That evening, I was still in the guest bedroom, listening to Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 5 on my phone when Lucien knocked.
“I’ve downloaded the software Charlotte recommended,” he said, and I felt the bed dip. “You can read and write on a computer and even go online and peruse the internet. It will read the screen for you. Quite extraordinary technology!”
He sounded so excited about it. I managed a thin smile.
“Sounds great.”
“Quite!” Lucien said. “And your enrollment at the Helen Keller Foundation is complete. Classes begin next week, so there is time to squeeze in a visit to New Haven. Your parents are anxious to see you.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.”
The door closed and I sank back down on the bed. He was proud. I was as conflicted as ever. Classes at the Helen Keller Foundation. Whoopee-fuckin’-doo. It still felt off to me, though I couldn’t see I had any other option.
Back in the day, when I was still working forPlanet Xand some article wasn’t coming together the way I wanted it to, I’d just start typing. Anything and everything about the subject I was working on, just off the top of my head. Riff writing, someone called it. And when I was done, I’d go in and pick all the best, truest parts and organize those into the article.
