‘Here I come!’ And I jumped. In a way, I’m sorry Ethan didn’t see me. A sighted person couldn’t have done it better. I landed cleanly, then stepped up the bank, pushing against the roots beneath my feet. No need to get my hands dirty.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘I think so.’ ‘How did it feel to jump?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Ethan. ‘Yes, you do.’
His sharp intake of breath told me that I was right. ‘I was a bit nervous. I know the water is only a few centimetres deep but it suddenly felt like it was kilometres deep and kilometres down.’
‘And how did you feel when you landed on the other side?’ ‘Relieved!’
‘Anything else?’ ‘Yeah. Kind of proud of myself.’
‘Being blind is like jumping off a cliff – except you jump never knowing what’s on the other side. Everything is an adventure for me. Walking along the street, going into a shop, meeting new people, even reading a book. I see things I never saw before. D’you know how much I hate reading the phrase, “How could I have been so blind?” when the author is using it to mean stupid? That really pisses me off , but I never even noticed it before losing my sight. I travel through life never knowing what I’ll come across or what I’ll fi nd, whether I’ll be delighted or disappointed, hurt or happy. Everyone else travels that way but most take it for granted. I don’t. Not anymore. Does that make sense?’
‘I think so.’ Ethan didn’t sound sure at all. But it was enough. I reached out to link arms with him again. ‘Have you still got the tie around your eyes?’ ‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s time for our next stop.’ I led the way along the fence and past the car park. ‘I have no idea where we are,’ Ethan said, perplexed. ‘That’s OK. I do.’ We walked on for another few minutes before I stopped. ‘Where are we now?’ asked Ethan. ‘By the tennis courts. What can you hear?’
