(A short story by Irene B.)
“Yes, yes, yes… okay, girl! I’m going to lock up as soon as you get off my line, crazy!” she said, half-laughing into the phone.
Then she paused.
“Mmm-hmm. Bedroom’s already locked.” Another pause, then a soft giggle. “You and your single-girl fortress routine.”
Silence lingered on the other end, until more laughter broke through.
“And you know I appreciate you, so thank you.”
Her voice dropped just slightly, as if still listening.
The call ended, and the room went still.
Tisha liked to measure her mornings by sound. The hum of the refrigerator intermittently followed the grinding of the ice machine. And now, with it being summer, the rush of her A/C came into full mode as the morning heat settled in.
At the sink, Tisha felt around, pressing buttons on a speaker until light, ambient music returned. Then, rinsing her coffee mug out, Tisha’s hands found the edge of the counter, then the familiar cluster of water bottles she kept there. Each cap had tiny marks she’d made herself. Undented meant full and new; one dent meant older, but still mostly full.
She twisted the cap of a bottle and sniffed. “Oh, this smells kinda stale, nowhere near enough oxygen left in this one for my babies”, she said to herself, and then poured it down the sink, listening to the trickle fade.
The array of plants, mixed with cuttings she was propagating on her kitchen sink window were thriving, as Belle, her closest neighbor, often told her. Belle joked that she’d not be able to see out of it soon, being that Tisha was quite short, not to mention since being diagnosed as profoundly blind three years ago. Tisha closed her eyes and raised her head to take in the ray of sunlight that slowly streaked past her windows, typically covering all sides of her face. She paused, reopened her eyes and continued to move her hand along the counter edge to fish for another bottle. Upon sniffing that one too, she frowned again, and poured it out.
Across the room, blocking much of her side door window, Elijah Daniels watched her.
He’d been inside her house since early yesterday afternoon. One full night had passed, and now, on the second day, he was settling in.
Tisha moved with a kind of patience he hadn’t expected. She was deliberate, precise, calm with her head tilting every so often as if she were listening for something only she could hear.
The scars on her neck caught the light from both the sun and the counter lamp she left on, showing like deep brown ribbons along her skin. He had no idea how she’d gotten them. But she didn’t hide them, and that unsettled him more than the scars themselves. He remembered them from the first time he’d seen her, at the grocery store. They were even more pronounced than under the rows of overhead fluorescent lighting, and she hadn’t bothered to hide them then either. She’d dropped a mini watering can, attempting to add some water she finally approved of to it, and laughed softly when it rolled onto her feet. He’d followed them home that evening after they’d finished shopping. Two women who couldn’t be more different, he thought. Tisha was black with deep brown skin, curvy in a stockier way, and beautiful even with her scars. The other woman, pale white, a pretty redhead, had to be six feet if not taller, and had that skinny-scrawny look to her. Besides their clear friendship, their only matching feature Elijah could discern was their choice of hairstyle, short, very, very short.
Retrieving the bottle, Tisha turned past the side door window, seemingly toward him, which made him freeze a little, until her stare landed on a mammoth plant, with wide and tall leaves, trying their best to reach the ceiling. “Quieter morning, right?” She eventually said, “Even the birds forgot how to sing… what is going on?”
A knock startled them both.
“Belle?” Tisha called toward her front door, and as she left in that direction, Elijah quietly slid back to his chosen spot. He liked his spot. Far enough away from the hallway, where he could get a wide-angle shot of the main floor, next to an old, tall bookcase, again covered by plant leaves and root systems he didn’t know the names of. He remained still as the laughter of the two women came towards and then passed him.
“Oh, it’s gonna be a hot one today. How’s the jungle doing?” Belle’s voice filled the space. Adding to its brightness, with her amusing, playful tone, and filling it with a touch of sass. “You sure you’re not running a greenhouse?”
Tisha smiled. “You know I like my company green.” The shriek coming from the boxed item the other woman placed on the floor made Elijah suck in his breath as he threw his hands over his mouth.
“Don’t start, Lacy,” Belle scolded. “You’re only staying overnight by yourself for less than 24 hours. I’ll be back before you can miss me.” Lacy meowed loudly from her carrier as if answering back with extreme disapproval.
As Belle lifted the carrier, Elijah noticed her glance sweep the house once more, a little too slow for his liking, but eventually, she squeezed Tisha’s arm reassuringly. Belle was nearly his height but with the same freckled skin as his spiteful older sister, who he hadn’t spoken to in years. He’d always hated that pasty look.
“Where are you going again?” Tisha asked, moving closer.
“Just a quick trip,” Belle said lightly. “New man, new adventure. I’ll be back tomorrow, maybe late afternoon. Lacy’s sitter’s coming anyway, I just didn’t want her alone too long. She gets so dramatic.”
Tisha chuckled. “You sure you don’t want her to stay with me? I don’t mind.” Tisha added.
“Nah, she’ll survive one day. Half the time she’s itching to get out the house; I don’t want her screaming your place down at one in the morning. Why I didn’t just get a dog, I’ll never know.”
“Because you’re hardheaded!” Both women chuckled in agreement. Lacy fussed some more, scratching on the cage door, begging to be let out.
“Oh, no you don’t, we were only stopping by for a second.” Replied Belle, lifting the carrier and looking right inside.
“If I let you out, you’ll try to terrorize Ms. Tisha’s plants, or try to pee on them!” Tisha looked around the room. “Tee, you take such good care of everything in here. Better than me, that’s for sure. All these plants, your place… God, they’d live forever if you wanted them to.”
They both laughed again.
“You need me to do anything before I head out? I can get Ricky to swing by if you want.”
“No, girl, I’m good. I’m in for the night, ready to catch up on my podcasts. Got some wine, nibbles, no drama. And did you forget your brother is in Vegas?” Belle made a face, confirming she had.
“See what I mean! OK, ok, we’re out. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m heading back. I bet you won’t answer me if I interrupt your fancy podcasts!”
“You got that right. Now go!”
Elijah stayed perfectly still, barely breathing as the women talked and until he heard Belle finally leave, her footsteps fade down the walk, and the faint hum of what sounded like Tisha’s electric car move away.
Then he waited some more.
A little while later, the house returned to its rhythm — Tisha moving about the kitchen, her cane tapping lightly, and she turned up her music.
He watched her empty another bottle into the sink, then another. She had so many plants to water he wondered why she didn’t buy one of those huge watering cans with the pump. But then how would she be able to sniff to tell the quality of the water in that thing? This was her practice, she enjoyed it, and he found her humming so steady and soft.
Feeling safer, he moved to be closer to her. Some plant leaves brushed his arm. His breathing had returned to normal, yet the air felt heavier now, like the house itself was holding its breath.
He was a few steps away from her when she said quietly, “Damn, it’s got to be an odd feeling to be so still for too long?”
He froze.
She turned more toward him — face fixed in a curious pose as she lifted the bottle in her hand.
Before he could react, a gush of liquid hit him full in the face.
The burn was instant, searing, and indescribable. He screamed and stumbled backward, with his hands wiping frantically at his eyes and face until something hard slammed into his skull and the world went black.
He woke to the sound of dripping water.
Cold air bit at his skin, his hands and feet in particular realizing the bareness of his feet. His eyes were wrapped tight, the bandages stiff with dried something, his blood, probably, and his head throbbed. His wrists were bound, tight and rough, and when he tried to move, the attached chains rattled against what sounded like metal.
Another voice came from somewhere nearby. A male voice. Low, but desperate and angered.
“Hey! Hey! Wake up! Wake the fuck up, man!”
Elijah swallowed. “Who’s there?”
“You see anyone else out there?! Anyone?” The other man’s voice was even more hoarse, than his own, and now trembling.
“Answer the fucking question!” The man shifted in his space, though his movements seemed weak.
“I—I don’t know. Just her.”
“Fuck! Figures.” The man’s voice cracked. “They all think it’s just her.”
Elijah strained to see, but the bandage let in only a whisper of light. “They? Who’s they? Who are you?”
The man didn’t answer.
Footsteps descended the stairs, slow, deliberate. Elijah hadn’t seen any outside lower windows to suggest a basement or den in the house, and Tisha’s bedroom was on the main level. He hadn’t ventured upstairs, noticing she hadn’t either since he’d arrived. A cluster of tall plants blocked the stairway entrance, and the thick dust, scattered with fallen leaves, showed the upper space was unused. No squeaks or creaks came from above, giving him no reason to explore or risk making unnecessary noise.
Both men went still.
Elijah heard the click of heels, then the faint chime of bracelets.
“Morning, ‘NOT GENTLEMEN’,” Belle said. The chime of bracelets faded as Belle smiled toward the stairs.
Elijah’s breath hitched. “Belle? What—where—?”
Belle’s mocking tone suddenly changed and she hissed at Elijah. “Oh, you think you can say my name because you know it? You don’t know me. You know of me, that’s all.”
The light in front of him dimmed as Belle crouched in front of him, and he felt her fingers working at the edge of the bandage around his head. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone. That can be… disorienting.” Her mocking tone had returned.
The cloth peeled away. More light stabbed through the blur of his ruined sight. His vision was fractured with colorless shapes and shadows bending.
He blinked until her outline came into focus, and this time her thin frame was in a nurse’s uniform.
“What are you doing? Why…?” he croaked.
“Why? Why did you follow us from the store…huh? Why did you sneak into my friend’s place… that’s the why?”
His heart pounded faster.
“I saw you watching her… in the store. Then I saw you follow us. Even at that distance — I saw you. We both did. Well, I saw you; she felt you. You parked your shitty ass, baby blue, truck in the woods. And then I watched and heard you slip inside her house that same night. And then I did.”
Belle nodded toward a rickety wooden door tucked into the far corner. It was small, almost hidden, and not quite full-sized. Elijah’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t seen any sign of this space from the outside when he scoped the house.
“We even gave you time to leave when we were on the phone. I was already in the house. But you still stayed. Right?”
Her voice steadied, almost quiet now. “We both stayed a little longer. I waited, but never saw you leave.”
Elijah’s stomach turned as he shook his head, violently signaling the no that his voice couldn’t produce.
“No… no… still lying, huh? OK…”
“I didn’t mean… I wasn’t going to do anything… I…”
“Oh, honey,” Tisha said softly. Her voice coming from the top of the stairs, taking a little longer to enter the space. “So, what did you plan to do?”
Elijah twisted his wrists, the chains biting into his skin. “Please… whatever this is…”
The man in the corner made an indistinct sound, almost a growl. Belle turned her head toward him.
“Hush now,” she ordered.
He fell silent immediately.
Elijah turned his face toward the other man. Seeing a patch of his tangled blond curls matted over his dirt-stained olive skin. Elijah shuddered, wondering how long he’d been there.
Belle stood back up, brushing the dust from her hands. “Oh, don’t worry about him; he’s an old friend of Tisha’s. But after the accident.”
Elijah swallowed. “Accident?”
Belle looked down at Elijah, eyes narrowing slightly. “You saw her scars, didn’t you?”
He nodded weakly.
“Her ex did that,” Belle continued. “She survived. Barely. Took a while, but we learned what the world never does — we had to. No one comes for women like her, like me. So we did for ourselves. That’s how men like you get caught… thinking we’d stay alone and afraid.”
Elijah felt his stomach twist, and he swallowed harder before speaking. “And her ex…he’s… that man?”
“Not exactly, but one of them. The other one’s you.” Tisha added. “You breathe too loud; do you know that?” she said as if in a question.
Elijah’s voice trembled. “Please… I didn’t mean—”
“You thought because I couldn’t see you, that I couldn’t hear you. Feel you around me, smell you,” she added. “But I don’t need eyes for that. I had to learn that myself, that blindness isn’t silence.”
Tisha edged toward the metal boxes, her hand guiding her as the faint hum of their motors filled the air. The air was colder down here, damp enough that the chains clinked wet against metal. The boxes — three of them, dusty, dented, waist-high and humming faintly — gave off the sterile chill of a hospital fridge.
Elijah strained against his chains. “What are those?”
She tapped her nails lightly against the lid. Once. Twice. Then, with her other hand, she smoothed it across her neck, closing her eyes as she did.
“Not what… who. Belle has some admirers, too.”
Elijah froze, his eyes fixed in fear. Belle let out a chuckle.
“Tee, I wish you could see his face.” Tisha smiled at Belle’s comment, then angled her head toward Elijah.
“Elijah Joseph Daniels… Elijah… Eli… or do you go by Joey?” Tisha inquired.
Belle leaned closer, her voice soft, almost casual.
“You know we gave you time to leave that night. Why didn’t you take it? Men like you… you never do.”
Elijah’s eyes flicked to the other man, the metal boxes, then back to Belle.
“Oh… but don’t worry. It’s not your turn—yet.”
Practicing out loud
Sharing some of my writing, these fiction bits as part of my creative reps, flaws and all. Keep going with your “thing,” too. Small consistent steps, even imperfect ones, make big moves forward.
Author’s Note: My short story features a character who is profoundly blind. I don’t have this lived experience, but I’ve tried to portray their perspective thoughtfully and respectfully. SincerelyIreneB.
