A Man Called Darius Page 19

  “Now... I have to get this taxi Darius, so why don’t you share it with me, eh?”

  He was reluctant, saying that it was too expensive and that he only lived a few blocks away, but I insisted. I wanted to know his address and I could hardly ask him outright, could I? He got into the cab and murmured something to the driver... and I knew I would just have to be patient and wait....

  “44 Grafton Street, Sir,” I heard the driver call out as we came to a halt in Islington.

  I gave the cabby a ten pound note and held my finger to my lips as I left the taxi with Darius, waving my hand to ensure the driver that he could keep the change. Darius stood on the pavement, feeling around for his plastic carrier bags and I handed them to him.

  “I thought you had gone off in the taxi,” he said as he made his way up a flight of stairs to the heavy front door of a house, where he apparently had his flat and shoved a key into the keyhole with expert practice.

  “You could offer me a cup of coffee,” I said and took the bags as we went into a very dull looking hall.

  “I’m afraid my place may not be very tidy and I hope you will excuse that. I only have a bed-sit... Look! … why don’t you go now and … perhaps we could meet another time.”

  I wanted to cry... I wanted to tell him of all the thoughts I had stored up for years... about how much I had loved him all this time and that I didn’t give a bugger about his bloody flat or bed-sit.

  “I don’t think I could walk another step without a coffee,” I said and I know that sounded stupid, but it was all I could think to say.

  ***

  It was a gloomy little place, just as he had described it and maybe even worse, but it wasn’t at all untidy. Quite the reverse... and I marvelled how anyone with the disability of sight could have kept it so neat.

  “I never thought we would ever meet again,” I said, trying to sound casual and very matter-of-fact, but watching his reaction as I said it. He wet his lips with his tongue and coughed.

  “Excuse me,”... No, neither did I,” he said slowly and held his head low.

  “We have so very much to talk about Darius. So much has happened since we last met... and I have time. Look, let me get the coffee. Tell me where you keep the things.”

  I was getting tongue-tied, wondering what best to say in the circumstances, as I felt if I didn’t keep talking... about anything... the conversation would dry up and I would be back to square one, but then I remembered... Darius never did say a lot... I was surprised when he turned towards me and I could have sworn he was looking at me as he took his glasses off and tapped them against his wrist.

  “There is nothing in my life that would be of interest to you. I don’t lead a very exciting life... as you can imagine,” he said and swept his hand across the view of the room to demonstrate his state, “ but if you would like a coffee, then please sit down. I will make it. I know what to do.”

  “Exciting... exciting? Well few of us lead exciting lives, I would say. I’m just interested to know how you got on... after you left the Medics and yes, I would like that coffee, please”

  He began to unpack the groceries from his carrier bags, leaving the goods on the table as he went across to a little sink area, which I took to be his ‘kitchen’

  “Are you? Are you really interested?” he asked as he filled a percolator with water and spooned in some coffee from a jar on a shelf above his head. His face seemed to light up when he asked that question and I was amazed at the dexterity of touch as he lit the gas under the coffee pot, as if he had no trouble in doing anything he wanted to do. There was no hesitancy in his movements.

  “Well, yes, of course I am. You know that the Colonel and I were both very impressed with your work in the Theatre and I’m sure you’ll remember, we thought you had done that kind of work before. You picked it up so fast and that was unusual, I can tell you.”

  He turned his face away from me and took some tins from the table

  “I have to be careful of these, you know. I have opened carrots when I’ve wanted pears... or something. It can be a little confusing. The coffee won’t be long, but I have to concentrate on putting this little lot away correctly.”

  I felt sorry for him in that moment, as I hadn’t stopped to think of anything so simple as that before. I wondered was he trying to change the subject and I offered to help him.

  “How do you know what to get in the store? Which tins are which and which ones you want?”

  “Carrots?” he asked me and I looked to where he had rested his finger.

  “Correct,” I said and he went from tin to tin, naming what was in each with accurate precision.

  “How do you do it?” I asked and he grinned mischievously

  “I know the shelves and I pack the tins in order as I move them in my bag. That helps, but even then, sometimes I’m wrong if I don’t stack the bags correctly... or if the store manager changes the shelves. He usually tells me when that happens and then I have to revise my geography of the place again.”

  I could have gone on talking for ages about this art he had acquired but I wanted to hear more about his disability. The more I talked with him, the more I realized the great asset and value we have in our eyesight and I felt ashamed that I had taken this gift for granted in myself... all the time.

  “About the Theatre... when we were in Iraq... Was it this precision of accuracy that you seem to have that made you learn so fast there?”

  “I didn’t think you noticed,” he said and packed his tins into the cupboard above the sink but he did not answer my question. I saw little labels marking the shelves as he packed his store and then when I looked closer I could see they were written in Braille. If only you knew just how much I did notice in those days, I thought...

  “You mentioned something about a train, Darius... Would you like to tell me more about that?”

  He ran the tap to wash his hands at the sink and I saw he had no difficulty in finding the soap or the towel. I marvelled again at his discipline.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, “I am sorry, but I think it would be better if you left now. I need to be on my own for a while.”

  “What about dinner? Won’t you have dinner with me, please?”

  He looked away again and I could see he was getting agitated.

  “Look, I don’t know what you want of me or what you are trying to prove. I cook for myself every day... and I manage. I hate pity and I detest condescension even more. I said it was my fault that you fell and I’m sorry. You are under no obligation to me just because I... I cannot see. Now can we please leave it like that?”

  He moved towards the door and opened it, tripping as he went on a piece of frayed carpet on the floor, near the table.

  “I am sorry you feel that way,” I stammered, “ It was never my intention to....” He interrupted sharply, before I could say any more.

  “You never noticed me in Iraq. I’m surprised that you remembered my name or do you have a strange fetish for blind men?”

  I was very angry when he said that and I could feel my cheeks colour as the tears gathered up in my eyes. In my hurt, I knew what he said was true ...well, about my disregard for him in Basra. I knew it could have seemed that way to him and I could not blame him for thinking the way he did, but in my heart, I wished he could have seen through my stupidity... even if I didn’t deserve such understanding. He stood by the open door gripping the handle, waiting for me to leave and I saw his knuckles grow white.

  “Goodbye Darius....”

  I felt I had been beaten and that my life’s entire dream had gone up in smoke. I felt so much shame as I walked into that corridor and he closed the door behind me. I stood outside the door and could control the tears no longer. I had never meant it to be this way in my dreams of him... whenever or however we would meet. My heart was breaking with lo
ve for him and I could feel an actual, physical pain as I stood there, rooted to the spot and afraid to move. Perhaps I had taken things too fast? Maybe I should have been less inquisitive, but I knew for certain that I had no fetish whatsoever for blind men. I blushed when I thought he could even think that of me and I cried all the more.

  It must have been only a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity, when the door opened again and I could see his shoe appear, peeping from the doorway of his bed-sit. He came out and stood silently before me, looking at me... or so I wanted to believe, although I knew he could only see darkness. He held out his hand.

  “Come back... please. I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

  I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck and all my pride went by the wind. I could feel his strong arms caress me tenderly, almost as though he was afraid to hurt me if he held me closer.

  “I told you my hearing is acutely sensitive. I could hear you crying... Why?”

  “If you could see my eyes, Darius... you would know why... and if you could see my heart, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

  He touched my cheek with his cool hand and then ran it over my forehead, feeling his way until he touched my hair. I took his hand in mine and held it there.

  “I can see your face. I have seen it every day since you left me in Basra.” he sobbed and I cannot express the feeling of love and joy I felt at that beautiful moment when he said those words. My dream had climaxed into orgasm of sheer joy and I clung to him and pressed my lips to his face.

  “I never knew... I never knew Darius... and I have loved you too …all this time, my darling... since the first moment I saw you.”

  I could feel his body tremble as he held me.

  “It is too late now... too late to talk of my feelings for you... Frannie.”

  He had used my name for the first time and it thrilled me as I followed him back into the flat. My eyes were aching and my head was beginning to spin.

  “I love you Darius Crane. I have loved you from the first moment you came to the hospital in Basra, before you even saw me. I was too proud to show it. I am a fool.”

  He closed the door behind us and kissed my hair as he whispered into my ear.

  “And I... you... from the moment I saw you standing at the entrance to the theatre with your lovely hair tied back with that scarf you used to wear, but it is too late for our love now. It is too late.”

  “It is not too late Darius... It could never be too late for me... and you are alone, are you not? You told me you lived alone. Is there someone else in your life?”

  He pulled his head away from my arms and stared into my eyes.

  “No, there is no-one. I could never marry because of the thought of you... every day... every night in my mind. I could never marry now. Who would want a man who cannot see?”

  I guided him to a chair and he sat down.

  “My darling... there is much I have to tell you. I too, have been without sight. I too have been blind, but my sightlessness was my obstinacy; my refusal to accept the truth when I should have done. But first, I must make a telephone call to the hospital where I work. Is there a phone near here,” I asked and he pointed to the door.

  “There is a public telephone in the hall, just a few yards to the right along the corridor.”

  I made the call and explained my absence for the lectures by saying I hadn’t been very well and that I would be alright for the next session of lectures in a fortnight’s time. I also telephoned Frampton and told her that I would be staying overnight in London and that I would be back the following day... Friday, then I returned to the bed-sit. Darius was sitting just where I had left him, holding his head in his hands as he leaned across the table. I told him about my feelings for him all through the years and about my disastrous sham of a marriage to Monty; about dear Jeremy and Aunt Martha and of course about Rowan Trees. He listened attentively, sometimes pressing his eyes tightly as if he were in pain, but he held my hand and I saw a tear slip from his eye when I told him of Monty’s treatment.

  “I wish I had known,” he said softly and looked away from me for a second. “I want to call you Darling, but I am still in awe of the Nursing Sister from Iraq. I had told myself so many times that you had not noticed me... as a man, I mean. It was because of you that I volunteered for that work in the theatre, so that I could be near you. That was why I did so well in the training. You were my inspiration. I dared not fail. I told myself that time would resolve everything and that you would see me... as I wanted you to see me... and then you went on leave.”

  “I am your darling, Darius... I always have been, my love.”

  He took my face gently in his hands and whispered in my ear.

  “I want to kiss you but I am so ashamed. I want to see your lovely face again... really see you, my darling... I have never ever wanted to have my sight back again, as I thought it a vanity unless I could see you... and now, it is the regret of my life.”

  He wept and I cradled his head in my arms. I moved my lips towards his and he took the simple wish he craved for, gently at first, but then his passion became beyond his control and he kissed me as an ardent lover should kiss... and I was happy. I knew in that moment, without the shadow of a doubt that this man Darius was the love of my life. He was the man I had been born to love and I stayed with him all day until we went out to dinner that evening and then I returned to stay with him all night...

  ***

  The following morning, he taught me how to eat corn flakes with my eyes closed, which I can assure you to be a most difficult task.

  “My darling, we have been apart so long and it has been a very sad time for both of us. Your eyes... and my marriage… For my part, I feel I deserved everything that happened to me, for the deceit of my life... for the lie that I lived, because I never loved Monty. It was wrong to marry him.”

  Darius pressed my head against his chest.

  “Don’t torment yourself, my love,” he said, “You are here with me now and you were never really married to that man.”

  “But I wasted all those years when I could have been happy with you and I never knew where you were... although I thought about you all the time.”

  I wished Jeremy could have been with us at that moment. I would have wanted him to be the witness to our love and I know he would have understood.

  “Do you really... really love me Darius?” I asked.

  “With all my heart and soul my darling... but it is too late for us now, as I have said.”

  “I cannot understand how you can say that. Have I not made you happy in the short time we have been together?”

  “Yes,” he answered and hugged me closer, “I am happy... happier that I have ever been before, since I met you again, but I have nothing to offer you. I want to make you happy... not just for a few moments, but for all time... How can I do this when I will never be able to see again and I would never ask you to marry half a man.”

  “Let me be your eyes, my darling. Let me share my life with you.”

  We kissed again... long and ardent yearnings of love.

  “I should have been honest with you in the beginning Darius and then all this ‘in between’ would never have happened. Don’t ask me to leave you now my love. I would rather die. You have been my love for too long a time. I could never forget you... I could never do that.”

  His fingers played around my ear as he swept my hair back and pressed his tongue gently between my lips.

  “I have nothing Darling... only my teaching which helps me to survive, but you would hardly call it living ...and of course, my war pension but that is a pittance too. I have learned to live this way and I am content, because I have to be, otherwise I would die of self-pity.”

  I hadn’t mentioned Aunt Martha’s legacy and I thought it most inappropriate to do so unde
r the circumstances and he never knew that Rowan Trees was mine. I didn’t care about anything anymore... not as I had done before I met him again. I wanted HIM and Him alone. If he would not consent to marry me, I would have been his mistress if that had made him happy. I was putty in his hands. He was in charge... and I knew it...

  “We can be happy together Darius and everything else will fall into place, you’ll see. I love you and that is everything to me.”

  “I love you too Frannie, “ he said “but I would never want to see you unhappy. It was the train, you see....”

  “The train, darling... what train?”

  Darius clasped his hands to his face as if to hide his eyes from something that he alone could see...

  “The train... the train from Baghdad. It was on that train when we were going to Haifa. There was trouble in Palestine between the Jews and the Arabs, you remember. The train was carrying explosives and none of us were told about that. We were led to understand that all the guns and ammunition were sent on ahead when we were leaving Iraq, but there were explosives on that train. We were ambushed and when we told our captors that we were only carrying simple hospital equipment from the desert to be shipped to Cairo for onward destination to the U.K., they would not believe us. We were such fools... such trusting fools. The second lieutenant who was in charge of the train invited them to shoot into any one of the wagons at random, to prove what we said to be correct. We were so sure everything would be alright and that our cargo was harmless, otherwise we would never have taken that chance” Darius looked at me with those sightless eyes, willing me to understand. “They shot... only one bullet, he continued, “and I was thrown out of the train. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in hospital in Tel Aviv.” He thrust his face into his hands again and sobbed uncontrollably... “Except the blood... Oh dear God, I will never forget that; the pounding, deafening noise in my ears and the smell of fear in my nostrils, when I thought I was going to die. I was bleeding, seemingly from everywhere. I don’t know where it came from. I had never seen so much blood. It was a thick, red, gory sea and I was drowning in it.” He fumbled about, searching for my hand as he continued to weep his lament. “And now, I will never see you again, my love... never”, he murmured, “I cannot marry you my darling. I should never have called your name when I heard your voice at the railway station. I should never have let you see me like this.”