23 August 2023
Dear Diary,
Miss, are you certain youll help me? a trembling male voice asked through the telephone.
Alright, lets give it a go, I replied with a hint of condescension.
I was twenty, a student at the University of Manchester, hunting for a parttime job. In the Sunday Times I spotted an advert: Blind History Lecturer Seeks Assistant. My heart went out to the unknown man, so I rang straight away.
The next morning I stood before his modest flat on Portobello Road, ringed the bell with shaky hands. The door swung open and there he stood a man whose eyes were veiled by darkness.
Come in, love. What shall I call you? he said, his voice eager.
Ethel, I answered, blushing a little.
David Whitaker, he replied.
Your perfume is intoxicating, Ethel. I teach history at the university and would love for you to read my lecture notes to me each evening. Ill commit them to memory. I teach three evenings a week. Deal? Davids request felt oddly intimate, as if he already knew how I would answer.
His flat was immaculate no clutter, only tasteful furnishings. David, no older than forty, was handsome, impeccably dressed, and possessed a magnetic charm.
Lets start then, David, I said, eager to begin.
September slipped into February and then May. When the university holidays arrived, David gave me a break until the following September. I booked a cheap holiday to Brighton, and within a week the sea air had washed my thoughts of the blind tutor away. I met a dashing young solicitor named Mark, and before long we were engaged. The wedding date was set for early September.
At the end of August, Davids voice crackled over the phone.
Ethel, could you drop by tomorrow?
Im engaged, David. Im busy preparing for my wedding, I chirped, delighted.
Engaged already? Thats rather quick. I think youve rushed into it, he sighed, disappointment evident. Please, come. I could really use you.
Fine, Ill be there, I muttered, not keen to refuse.
The following day, the August heat bearing down, David welcomed me into his hallway.
Ive missed your exquisite scent, Ethel. Come in, he said.
My fiancé loves that perfume too, I replied absentmindedly.
Shall we extend our arrangement for another academic year? I cant manage without you, he pleaded, his tone soft.
Very well, lets get on with it, I answered briskly.
The more time I spent with David, the less I felt drawn to Mark. I eventually pulled my name from the register at the register office. Mark was left with a polite resignation; after all, a bride who isnt yet a wife can always change her mind.
David and I slipped into firstname terms. While I read his lecture notes, he would gently clasp my hand. Hed close his eyes, savoring the lingering trace of my perfume, and a quiet contentment settled over us.
One icy evening I arrived shivering, begging for a hot drink. David ushered me into his armchair, draped a blanket over my feet, and said, Sit tight, Ethel, Ill be right back. He disappeared into the kitchen, returned with a tray bearing orange slices and a small glass of brandy.
Drink, love this will warm you through.
I sipped slowly, watching him move about, and felt an urge to hold him, to protect him. When the brandy was gone, David leaned in, kissed me passionately, and wrapped his arms around me.
Stay with me, Ethel. Ill give you a whole world, he whispered.
Im not laughing, David. Youre so tender. My head feels light, I replied, feeling a calm I hadnt known before.
Davids mother, Margaret, arrived the next morning, as she always did at dawn, bringing tea and tidying the house. She glanced at me in bed and seemed unsurprised.
Good morning, dear. Ethel and I are still here, David announced cheerfully.
Nothing to worry about, Ill make breakfast, Margaret said with a smile, bustling to the kitchen.
Later, I confessed, David, I dreamt of soaring into the sky last night. Is that possible?
Im scared Ill grow accustomed to you. Yet I know youre not truly mine. How sad, my love, he murmured, lost in thought.
Margaret called out from the kitchen, Breakfast is ready, dears! we ate toast, sipped tea, and laughed.
After she closed the kitchen door, Margaret leaned close and said softly, Ethel, my David has truly fallen for you. Youve brought a slice of heaven into his life, and I dread him ever feeling the opposite. As they say, you cant lead a blind man by the reins. Please, spare his heart. You have a bright future ahead. Every blind man believes hell suddenly see the light. My David is already ruined. Do not add to my grief. Do not come back, love. Ill find a way to keep him safe.
I stood frozen, torn. I knew Davids affection was fleeting; he never asked me to marry him, and I wasnt ready to abandon him outright. Yet my heart was tangled with his, and I felt a genuine love blooming.
I began visiting only when Margaret was away, avoiding the guilt of being seen by her.
A year later our bond grew stronger, an unbreakable thread of love that seemed to illuminate his world. I proudly told acquaintances I was to marry a blind man. Then, one afternoon, David said, Ethel, we must end this. I set you free. Leave.
My world shattered. Grief overwhelmed me; I sobbed, screamed, and felt utterly lost. The nightmare he could not see or hear.
I have married twice since each time with passion, love, and heartache. No one has ever matched Davids unique place in my life.
Lesson learned: love can be blind, but it is the heart that must see clearly.
