The Love Ticket

A romantic fiction, a little bit sad

The Love Ticket

Once upon a time I decided to become blind. The idea struck
my mind one day when I was on my way home. It stemmed from a
game, a quite silly one, that my friends and I played. Every
Saturday night, we’d venture out to a bar and sit around a
table, staring blankly at one another. Whoever blinked first
had to buy everyone else’s drinks. To this day, I had never
lost one single game. Unbeknownst to my friends, I had a
condition. A disease, if you will, that prevented me from
blinking. Sometimes I could go for as long as thirty minutes.
Most people thought it odd, but in this instance, it worked
in my favor.
I was walking down across the narrow aisle leading to my
vintage house, thinking of nothing but an audacious plan to
understand how my family and friends would react towards me,
then I heard the raucous sound of power lawn mower coming
from my front yard lawn. I add strength to my pace and saw my
wife grabbing the handle of our red power mover.
It was a hot mid-June afternoon and she was wearing a sundress in coral and black abstract print. She looked over at me. Her hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead. I waved at her and she waved hand at me in return and turning off the mower, came over to greet me. In the harsh sunlight I saw that her face was pale. There were marks of sunburn on her cheeks and across her brow, where not even the strongest sunscreen was able to entirely protect her face. My wife was fair and her light skin burned easily in the hot sun.
I stared at her in awe. We were married just six short months after graduating from Drama and Theatre college. It’s where we’d met. I had been cast in a play and I saw her sitting there in the back row, watching me. After taking our bows and the final curtain call, my wife to be approached me, a genuine smile plastered to her beautiful face. She blew me a kiss, extending her hand for the imaginary gesture to take flight. I turned ten different shades of scarlet and it was then that I fell in love. Although some might say she wasn’t as gorgeous as movie stars, or someone famous, I didn’t care. She was beautiful to me and she was all mine. Elated with the memories that flooded my mind, I kissed Joanna tenderly before retreating inside the house.
It was nearing almost 5 by the time I meandered down the hallway, ready for a shower. My nagging ideas, however, had other plans. It was too much information to obtain, so I grabbed a pen and paper, jotting down all the details. I needed to be careful and execute this just right.
The plan was relatively simple. First, I would fake an accident that would make me lose my sight. Secondly, find a doctor who needed some extra cash flow and have him provide a diagnosis of vision loss. It didn’t have to be permanent, just something to get me through for a while. Lastly, I would have to play the part of a blind man and do it convincingly. Surely my years of drama and acting would come in handy, being a useful tool for such an occasion as this. With everything set, I just needed to wait until the perfect time.
The month of June passed quickly, making way for July and all its festivities. I had prearranged everything: going out of town, and finding the right doctor who needed the extra five hundred bucks. I even made sure to align our schedules so he’d be on call. It wouldn’t do otherwise. So sure enough, the accident took place and I was rushed to a small hospital. The doctor was there on cue, diagnosing me with my preferred ailment of blindness. No one seemed to question and I knew I was home free.
Standing in the stark, white, sterile room of the hospital, I glanced at my ghostly reflection in the window. Then I heard a car's motor revving hard. The car apt to come wheeling around the road below at sixty miles an hour and came busting out of the road. The car was a red Ford with mud splashed high up on both of its sides. As if it hadn’t made me feel bad enough, my father went out and purchased a pair of dark sunglasses and a walking cane to help assist me. I accepted both graciously, but inside I was a shattered man for what I’d done.
After assuring my parents I would be okay, they left me ruefully in the care of Joanna. She’d been spending more time at work as of late, leaving me home by myself most days. On the days I spent alone, I would sit in the wicker chair on the porch, watching as the world passed me by behind the dark lenses of my glasses. Other times I’d rest on the sofa, staring at our wedding picture that hung proudly over the fireplace. I recalled what a struggle it was, deciding where to hang it. We wanted it to be displayed prominently, and of course where the sun would always cast its rays of light upon us. We’d found the perfect spot.
Many friends and colleagues also visited, especially during the first few weeks. Some of them would simply pat me on the shoulder, unsure of what else to do. A few offered their condolences while ineffectively trying to cheer me up, even offering that there were doctors out there who dealt with this kind of thing; that I shouldn’t give up hope. I just stared at them and smiled, never letting on that I was perfectly fine.
Joanna and I tried to keep our lives and schedule as normal as possible. One morning, while in the kitchen, she nonchalantly mentioned her job. How she had been working overtime, mostly evenings. She continued smiling, the same as she always did, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I knew she’d recently put on a few pounds, but to me that shouldn’t have had the effect it seemed to. To me she was as beautiful as always. Shaking those thoughts from my head, I listened intently as she spoke.
"My new boss is a nice guy. He’s even giving me the opportunity at a promotion." Her eyes bore into me, waiting for a response.
"It means I’ll see you even less than before." I sighed, knowing this would be a turning point for us.
She sat up, looked at me briefly before opening the fridge and taking out a pitcher of lemonade. It was the perfect opportunity to blink and moisten my overly-dry eyes.
"Do you want ice in your lemonade?" Joanna asked, sweetly. I imagined she was trying to soften the blow of being away from home more.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, watching her every move. They were sharp and agitated.
"Listen, Matt," she began, "we need money for expenses. I need to work more because you--"
"Because I'm blind," I finished her sentence for her. I knew it had been a sore spot of contention between us. I’d noticed a change in her.
"No!" Joanna cried as she brushed her hair aside in frustration. "I didn't want to say that word out loud, hon. I didn’t want to make you feel bad."
"But you did," I said, and drank most of what was left of my lemonade, the ice cubes slid against my teeth with a click and a rattle. I slammed the glass back to the table and stood, pretending to fumble around for my cane that was perched beside me. Staggering towards the hallway, I left Joanna standing in the kitchen with her annoyance for me.
Two weeks had passed and nothing between us had changed. The air was laced with tension. Deciding enough was enough, I called the charity Joanna worked for. Talking to her boss might just be the key to unraveling the mess we were in. I used the cordless from the kitchen, plopping myself down on the hallway sofa for comfort. After three rings, a cheerful female voice answered.
"May I help you?" Her overly-pleasant voice sounded young and musical.
"I would like to speak with the boss, Mr. Sherman, please."
“Yes, sir. May I ask who’s calling?”
I hesitated briefly, realizing in that split second that I’d not formed a plan. I had no clue what to say. Should I be honest and upfront, or lie? I was better at lying. While still mulling it over in my head, sweat began to bead on my brow. It was hot as hell and the humid weather wasn’t doing me any favors. The phone slipped from my clammy hands, but I recovered it quickly. After stalling as long as possible, I decided to try a new tactic and go with the truth.
"I'm one of his clerk's husband. Her name is Joanna Smith," I said finally.
"Matthew!" she cried, rather loudly. "I'm Kelly. I heard about your accident and I'm just so sorry. How's Joanna doing?"
I scratched my chin, my mind in a fog as I tried to digest her last sentence.
"She's good, thanks."
"We’ve missed her here at the institute. She resigned when you..." her voice tapered off to a whisper.
My ears blocked out the rest of her words. My clouded mind was waking up slowly, trying to process what she’d said. I hung up on the jovial secretary and let the phone fall haphazardly to my lap. I gazed down, staring blankly at the device before absentmindedly dialing Joanna’s number.
Her familiar voice seemed on edge, perhaps even shaky. “What’s up, hon?” Funny. I’d like to ask her the same thing, but I don’t. Not just yet.
"Nothing much. I was just calling to ask if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight. Maybe we could try that new restaurant up town."
She didn’t answer immediately and that told me all I needed to know.
"Oh, I’m sorry, hon, but I have a client who’s only in town for tonight. He’s a lucrative businessman who has promised to donate a sizeable amount of money to the charity. I have to meet with him to finalize the details of our transaction. What about Sunday?"
"You know what? Just forget it! I was trying to be like my old self. Take you out to dinner tonight and show you how I felt. I guess that’s just asking too much. Take care, Joanna." For the second time today, I hung up without a goodbye. Rage boiled inside me as uncontrollable thoughts took over my mind. She’d been lying to me, apparently for a while. And whatever this was tonight? Yeah, she was lying again. I just had to figure it out. Sitting there in the hallway, my eyes once again fixated on our wedding photo hanging just over the fireplace. As if a low-slung cloud had suddenly appeared, a pang of remorse stabbed at my gut when I realized the sunlight no longer seemed to be casting a ray of light on our picture anymore.
The next morning, as Joanna readied herself for work, I scrutinized her every move. She still thinks I’m blind and as always, I use this to my advantage. I pretend I’m looking at nothing, perhaps the manicured bushes that sit just outside our window, but my focus is solely on her. With barely a goodbye, she makes haste for the door, closing it before I can catch up. I ditched my sunglasses and cane, and hurried behind her, careful to stay at a safe distance.
After nearly thirty minutes of walking, Joanna was stopped just outside the gates of a well-manicured lawn and an impressive archway. The front door opened just as she bounded up the walk, a little extra pep in her step. My eyes traveled from her to the house, where I recognized the man holding his arms open wide. My fellow actor and friend, Jacob, engulfed her in an embrace, shattering my world into a million pieces. She returned his affections and from my vantage point on the sidewalk, I heard a low moan of pleasure escape his throat. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, all the while my stomach twisting and tying into a thousand knots. I spent the entire walk home blaming myself. Blaming my stupid, stupid plan for driving the woman I loved into the arms of another man.
By the time I reached home, the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, the sky turning shades of lavender and orange. I flipped the switch for the porch light and then plopped down into my wicker chair. The newly budding leaves and fresh cut blades of grass swished lightly in the gently breeze. The smell of summer and fireflies beckoned my memory to recall happier times, but it was of no use. Nothing could pull me from the depths of my despair. Moths caught my attention, pinging from the glow of the bulb, casting giant shadows on the faded vinyl behind me. They flew to and fro, unaware that the light they were so drawn to could very well cause their demise. I felt for them, as I too had been drawn to a light that was now the cause of so much pain. Joanna.
I rested my head against the back of the chair, replaying in my mind my first role as an actor:
I believe when I was born, God thrust a bundle of tickets into my fists. I landed on Earth, having no clue what destiny had in store. I grew up, met different people, and finally the time for those tickets had arrived. I chose the train of love without having the slightest idea where in the world it would take me. Of where my destination was. Somehow, in the middle of that journey, it became clear that I had boarded the wrong train with the wrong partner. Having realized this, I jumped. Despite all the hardships, I jumped. It hurt, but I succeeded.
My eyes filled with tears and the emotions I could no longer contain. The salty wetness rolled down my cheeks, disappearing into days’ worth of stubble. Fishing into my pants pocket for a handkerchief, my fingers grazed the smoothness of my jackknife. I turned it over and over in my palm while wiping the remaining tears from my face. Opening the blade, I found myself mesmerized as it glistened under the glow of the porch light. It was then that the mower caught my attention. Mocking me, it seemed as if it wanted me to relive the memory of Joanna. The day I came home to find her mowing; her coral and black dress billowing in the breeze.
A weak and rueful smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I grasped the arm of the chair painfully, readying myself for what I knew needed to be done. Clinching my lips together tightly, my heart picked up its pace as I drew the blade closer and closer to my eyes. The moths sputtered around violently, as if they knew what I was about to do. Then suddenly, once and for all, I decided to become blind.