Escape artistry

24. White roses (now)

I missed him.

I missed him so much, it hurt. 

At the same time, I couldn't dismiss the fact that he had left me, having to deal with not only the grief of having lost my eyesight forever, but also of having lost the love of my life, which was him.

My working place was amazing, giving me paid time off to learn the things you needed to learn as a blind person who wanted to function in society, such as Braille. They gave me adapted computers and other devices, and also paid me to take courses to learn how to keep programming without my eyes. 

My friends were amazing as well, Sandra offering to clean my apartment once a week, Chris cooking with me, as these were tasks I not yet mastered without being able to see. Even Tobirama's agent helped me, spending a lot of time driving me around to places where I needed to go. Tobirama was an unspoken factor between me and him; I wanted to ask him how he was doing so badly, while at the same time being terrified how it would affect me. Finding out he was suffering would break my heart, but as would it if I found out he was thriving without me. Once, I asked the agent how we would arrange payments for him driving me, and he told me not to worry about it. When I told him I wasn't comfortable with him working for free, he said that he saw me as a friend now, and wouldn't let me pay him.

"Despite", he said. "Tobirama already offered to pay me for this. So if I wanted money, it would be from him."

Somehow, this didn't surprise me Tobirama had offered this. And I suddenly felt quite bad for how I had behaved during our last meeting. At the same time... Wasn't feeling sorry for oneself for having hurt someone else incredibly narcissistic of me? I knew I had to do everything I could to get out of that mindset. 

It was in an attempt to do so that I encountered him again. Not in physical form, but as close as I could get without meeting him. I had asked the agent to take me on walks every day after work so I would get used to the new sensation, and one day, I decided it was time to take on Time's Square, where I had lost my eyesight.

I was surprised at how easy it was for me; I didn't feel any remorse regarding the place at all. But then, I heard something change for the agent... Something so subtle, I would probably not have noticed if I still had my eyesight and my hearing hadn't gotten so sharp. It was only the slightest change in the way he breathed.

"What?" I asked.

"It's a billboard", he said. "Tobirama is performing again."

I felt happy for him. At the same time, I felt incredibly left out not to have been part of his journey back to the stage. Who had been there to support him? Had he friends close enough? The thought made me incredibly scared to be made redundant, if I wasn't already. 

I missed him again. I realised I was constantly waiting for him to contact me in one way or other, without having realised that that was what I did. I checked my mailbox every day for tickets to his upcoming show, but there never were any. I read the gossip magazines to see if they wrote anything about him that could be directed back at me, but they didn't. 

"You know, Izuna..." It was Chris, having taken me for a walk in Central Park, and this time, he didn't have to hold my arm. The autumn sun was lovely on my face, and I missed the autumn colours almost as much as I missed my escape artist, although if someone had given me the choice between one or the other, the choice wouldn't have been hard. I would have chosen him. "You can give him a message of your own. I don't think he will give you one. You were very clear with him."

I knew he was right. So finally, on the Saturday of his show, I decided to give him a hint of my own. 

I wanted to see his show badly, but would never dare. Not only because I wasn't certain he even wanted me there, but because I didn't think I could handle seeing him do the tank number again, which I knew he would do as he had revealed it in interviews. 

So I went to a flower show, picked out a bouquet of thirty white roses with the help of Chris, wore a simple message ('please try not to die <3), and sent it with his agent to his backstage room for him to receive after the show. 

That Saturday night, I couldn't relax. I walked back and forth in my apartment, bumping into things sometimes as I still hadn't gotten used to being without my eyesight. I tried to force myself to sit down several times but as soon as I did, I started fidgeting. He should just have gotten up on stage now.  I wondered if he scanned the audience to try and find me i this very second. I wondered if he would be relieved or disappointed when he couldn't. He should be doing his tank number now. Please, please don't die!

At midnight, I thought his show must be done. I tried imagining him go backstage and find the flowers. How would he reply? By text? By knocking on my door? By sending his agent? 

At midnight, there was still no answer in any form, and I felt my heart break again. Then, at one am, I started to get worried. What if something had happened again? What if the tank door was swollen this time as well? No... No, they must have checked for that. What if something else had gone wrong? Could he be so unlucky?

I updated the gossip webpages and let the voice function read all the news, but there was nothing, and they had been very, very quick reporting it last time, which at least provided some relief. But if nothing had happened... Why wasn't he contacting me? 

I hated myself a little for thinking that way. 

At three am, I lay down in my bed, checking my phone by letting the voice function read any unread messages for the last time three more times.

Then, I hugged my pillow and cried myself to sleep.

Waking up on Sunday meant springing out of my bed checking for new messages.

Nothing.

I went through the Sunday through a cloud of melancholia. I could hardly eat. That night, I slept poorly once more. 

But then, on the Monday, I got it. I got his message.

I came to work, feeling incredibly numb.

"Izuna?" 

It was Chris, and I just smiled at him, trying to give off the aura of someone who didn't want to be talked to.

"Izuna."

"Not now, Chris. I need to work."

I could hear his sigh of frustration and could imagine his face.

"Fine. But if you would ever wonder what it was I wanted to say, it's that you should sweep with your hand over your desk.

I frowned, but did as he said. And I felt...

A key... 

I frowned, picking it up. It had a little tag on it, I felt, and on it I could feel the now-so-familiar dots of the Braille text.

I read what stood on the tag.

Key to Tobirama's apartment.

I hid my face in my hands and cried openly.