Reaching for his wine, Fredric took a long sip, then sighed and rested his elbow on the table. “I suppose we have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes,” Ilan said, leaning toward him, “I think we do.”
Chapter 6
There was something lost in translation listening to a tinny little robotic voice read texts in his earbud, especially since Fredric had accidentally set the voice to feminine. The idea that he was taking a leap and going on his first date ever with a man was already throwing him, but hearing the texts from John read aloud like that killed the bit of spark he might have been feeling otherwise.
It had taken him over three hours to learn even the basics of the app. He’d once considered himself technologically advanced, even for an old man—picking up the computer really well with JAWS and then years later with his braille refresher. Then smartphones had come along with their flat screens and voice-over and complicated swipes, and he was ready to chuck the thing into the Atlantic and give up forever.
But Fredric had never let roadblocks like that stand in his way, so he’d politely declined Agatha and Ted’s offer to help him further than getting set up, and he spent a sleepless night navigating profiles. It wasn’t entirely blind friendly. None of the images had descriptions, but a lot of the men on the app threw a few bits about themselves in their bio so he had some idea what he was getting into.
He had his own photo, taken beside his neighbor’s pool after Teddy had artfully tousled his hair, and Agatha tugged down the collar of his shirt and arranged his limbs into some pseudo-casual pose that made him think of old author photos on the backs of hard-cover coming of age novels. He hadn’t thought about his own appearance in years, but he wondered if he just looked like some desperate old man trying to find himself after a fresh divorce.
Not that it was wrong, really. That’s exactly who he was in that moment.
But whatever the pair of them had done, Fredric found himself listening to the soft ping of new messages for most of the night. He probably took a hundred times longer than anyone else to answer them, but he had to assume there were other people his own age just as baffled by that technology.
Eventually, though, he came across John’s profile. He was thirty-six, younger than Fredric had really intended on dating. But he worked as a director of IT for a company he didn’t name, he had a house not far from the Cove, and he liked to fish and paddle board on weekends.
Fredric couldn’t say he was a fan of any of those things, but they were all the marks of someone who had his life together, and Fredric appreciated that because he wasn’t quite sure there was room in a relationship for two people who were trying to get themselves in order.
The first message John sent was simple, and Fredric dove right in to let him know about himself.
Fredric: It’s nice to meet you. I’m fifty-three. I used to work as a lawyer, but I recently left my firm and moved to Crescent Cove. I don’t have a lot of hobbies, but I like being near the beach. My guide dog and I take long walks every morning, and he appreciates being able to run in the surf when I let him off his harness.
John: Guide dog? Does that mean you’re blind? Is that a really rude thing to ask?
Fredric: It’s not rude. I’ve been blind since I was in my early twenties.
John: Wow, being on this app is brave.
Fredric: Is it?
Being called brave for something so average as using an app rankled enough that he almost ended the conversation because it was one of the things he hated most. But he was trying something new—something different. He had to allow strangers moments to get over all the things that they’d been taught by a society so hell-bent on an unattainable version of perfection that they thought a blind man tying his own shoes was noteworthy.
So, he was polite, and they kept talking, and then John asked him out. Fredric spent ten minutes panicking after that before saying yes and setting a date.
Agatha joined him on his walk the following morning, and his fatigue had allowed his anxiety to settle into something he could manage. “He seems nice,” he finished after giving her the run-down of their chat. “Maybe not the one, but…”
“A good start?” she offered when he trailed off. “He’s your first guy, right?”
“Yes,” Fredric said from behind a sigh. “I mean, I realized my attraction to men back in college, but my ex and I were together by then. This isn’t some grand sexual awakening. I was just married before I had the chance to experience anything.”
“I get it,” Agatha said. She was quiet awhile, and Fredric turned his attention to the sound of the birds and to the quiet huffs of Bastian’s breathing. “Ted and I will help.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary…” he started.
“We won’t step on your toes,” she insisted. “But we can help you find something good to wear at least. And maybe get in a few more good pics for your profile.”
He felt a little steamrolled, but he also felt good and wanted, and that made him smile. He missed parts of his old life, though he was glad to shed the skin of the man he had been under Jacqueline’s heel. He still heard her voice occasionally, the sharp words leaving small wounds to bleed out with every part of his person she hated. Which was almost all of him.
He still didn’t entirely believe in his own worth, but he was getting there. Agatha’s gentle touch on his arm directing him toward the water so he could dip his toes in the waves reminded him of that. He wasn’t alone.
When Fredric sat down and was met with a sharp silence, he knew the direction the date was going to go in. While he hadn’t dated since he was a teenager, and most of that had been necking in his car and putting his hand up skirts, he’d had enough meetings with strangers to know what was happening.
John wasn’t quite expecting someone so blind. He wasn’t expecting it to be obvious. Fredric had long-since learned to both hear and feel the subtle shifts when a person was using wide gestures and mouthing. He heard the way the server cleared his throat uncomfortably, not sure if he should indulge the man who was clearly trying to make an ass of Fredric after getting his braille menu.
He breathed a sigh of relief when John excused himself to the bathroom, and he allowed himself a selfish prayer that John had turned in the opposite direction and escaped out the restaurant doors. He finished the first page of the menu, debating about whether or not he actually wanted to eat or text Agatha to pick him up. They could stop for pizza or Chinese on the way. He could make a picnic on his bed and turn on the TV and play an old eighties movie.
He could do any number of things that wasn’t suffering through yet another annoying attempt at humiliation simply because the person couldn’t handle someone different.
“Sorry,” came John’s voice, and he sounded almost terrified. “Sorry, I…got a call.”
Fredric’s brows rose, because he wasn’t expecting him to come back. “Is everything alright?”
“I,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Family emergency. Raincheck?”
“Only if you have time,” Fredric said, offering him an out. He extended his hand, and John barely touched it before he was tripping over himself to leave.