Out Of The Darkness

A woman guides me by the arm to my table. I can hear people around me laughing and conversing, but I can’t see any of them. The name of the restaurant is Pitch Black, and they offer a dining experience in complete and total darkness. Sheila, my sister, wasn’t kidding when she said that she was going to set me up on a blind date.

“We are almost to your table sir.” My guide tells me. That’s what the restaurant calls them, guides. Not only will this guide lead me to the table, but she is also tasked with guiding me and my date through the entire meal. I say my date because I don’t know her name. Sheila didn’t want me trying to hunt her down over the internet and develop any pre-conceived notions. She’s right. I would have gone through her friends list on social media and examined each person who had the same first name as my date. It was one of many defense mechanisms I had developed since Annie died ten years ago. Any time someone would bring up the fact they knew the perfect person for me I’d immediately figure out a way to politely decline. If they persisted, I would ask the person’s name, immediately investigate them online and come up with any variety of reasons on why that person wouldn’t be right for me. And besides, I already knew what perfection was and it wasn’t fair to anyone to be compared with that.

This is the first date I’ve been on since Annie passed. I had finally relented to the constant barrage of clichés.

“Annie would want you to be happy.”

“You need to get back out there.”

“You don’t want to be alone forever.”

Just to name a few. The last one always puzzled me. Just because I was alone didn’t mean I was lonely. I had our two daughters, Eleanor and Jane. Raising them not only kept me busy but it fulfilled me. Watching them grow into almost exact replicas of their mother warmed my heart because there wasn’t anyone better than my Annie. They are both away at school now and yes, the house is a bit empty but what it lacks in human companionship it more than makes up for it with memories. Each room of the house holding fond memories. The living room where we would watch our girls unwrap a mountain of Christmas presents. The kitchen where we would fumble through a recipe one of us had found on the internet. The dish never turning out like the picture, but it was the journey not the destination Annie would always say. And she was right. She was always right.

We arrive at the table and the guide helps me to my chair. I cautiously sit down and pull up slowly to the table. “Your water glass is on your right eight inches from the tables edge.”

Eight inches? How in the world can I possibly judge such a small distance in complete darkness? I’m going to knock it over. I know it. I’m going to drench my date with water as soon as she arrives and that will be it. Date over. I’m not ready, I know I’m not ready. I slowly move my right hand out into the darkness. My middle finger touches something cold and wet. I run my finger down the side of the smooth glass and through the condensation. I smile and instantly feel a little calmer.

“See, you get used to it. Can I get you a drink while you wait for your friend?”

“Surprise me.” I reply.

“Very good.” She says with a smile in her voice and walks off.

I sit encompassed by the darkness as a cacophony of sounds begin to envelope me. The scraping of knives and forks along plates like fingernails on a chalk board. The deafening roar of laughter and conversation begins to overwhelm me. I can feel sweat start to trickle down my back. Part of me wants to leap to my feet and run from this place. Run from these overwhelming sounds, these pungent aromas of food unseen. I grip the table tightly and close my eyes trying to calm myself. It isn’t working. I’m having a panic attack. Oh God, not now, not here. I try and recall what my therapist said to do when feeling overwhelmed. What was it? Breathe? Was that it? Yes. Breathe. Just breathe. I inhale deeply and hold the breath in my lungs for several seconds then I slowly exhale. I feel a little better, so I repeat. On the second exhalation my guide returns with my drink.

“Our house merlot. I am placing the glass on your left and if you like I can guide your hand to it. Would you like me to assist you?”

I nod. Still a bit shaky from my near panic attack. My guide gently places her hand on my wrist. Her hands are cold, and goosebumps immediately prickle my arm as she moves my hand slowly until it touches the rounded form of the wine glass.

“Thank you.” I say barely above a whisper.

“You’re very welcome. If you need anything just raise your hand.”

I nod and turn my attention to the wine glass. I gingerly wrap my left hand around the glass and bring it slowly to my nose. I sniff and my senses are once again overwhelmed this time with the pleasant, blueberry jam smell that engulfs my nose. I also detect a note of black cherry and is that vanilla? I inhale again and yes, it’s vanilla. The combined aromas immediately flood my mind with the memories of my honeymoon with Annie. We had gone to Napa Valley and that is where we fell in love with wine. One of our favorites had been a merlot eerily similar to the one in my hand. That one had smelled like an earthy fruitcake with a hint of vanilla. I paused as I embraced the memory of that moment with Annie. I feel tears begin to well up and I lower the glass. As soon as the smells drift away, I am slammed back into the world of sound that nearly drove me over the edge earlier. Not this time. I won’t allow it. I can’t. I quickly bring the glass to my lips and take a sip. The merlot dries almost instantly on my tongue and releases a fruity smooth taste that is almost heavenly. I let the merlot linger on my palette for a moment before I swallow. This is how the sommelier had instructed Annie and I to drink the wine and truly experience what it had to offer. This merlot was offering a lot more than a cherry sweet flavor, it brings me back to a time in my life that was previously only a faint memory. I can see Annie perfectly, how she had looked when she had tasted a particularly bitter cabernet and had scrunched her nose in disdain and shook her head vigorously indicating that she didn’t like it. How we had laughed at the way other people would simply swish the wine in their mouths then spit it out. “If we’re paying for it. I’m swallowing.” She had whispered to me and the way I smiled at her, bemused by her unintended double entendre made us both erupt in laughter. This outburst annoyed not only our sommelier but the other couples in attendance. But we didn’t care. That’s what I miss the most. The way we laughed together. She got me in a way no one else ever had or ever will. That’s why when I lost her, I reconciled myself with the fact that I had my soul mate already. There isn’t any sense in moving on.

I decided to focus on building my business. I made sure I provided the lives for our girls the way we always envisioned. Eleanor graduates college this spring then she’s off to med-school. Jane will graduate next year then probably grad school. All courtesy of Annie’s life insurance and my consulting business. We had done it. Together.

I swallow the wine and it warms me on its way down. I lick my lips and think to myself, that I shouldn’t be here. I should raise my hand and ask my guide to lead me to the exit and apologize on my behalf to my friend but something urgent had arisen and I had to leave. But that was impossible. For one, I had to surrender my phone before entering the restaurant. No possible light emitters allowed. Two I had promised Eleanor and Jane that I would go through with it. Sheila had enlisted their help this go around, and it was their prodding that finally caused me to throw up my hands in defeat.

“Mom would want this for you.” They had both said. They’re right. Annie would want me to try and find happiness with someone else, but the problem is I don’t want it.

“Why are you so against this?” Eleanor had asked me the last time she was in town.

“It’s simple.” I replied. “No one will ever get me like your mom did.”

Eleanor had sighed and merely said, “You don’t know that.”

But I do. I do know that. But I will go through with it. To please them.

Before I left, I had a video chat with Eleanor and Jane. They offered words of encouragement. Telling me I looked handsome and to just be myself. I told them my plan was to open with a joke to break the ice and they both responded simultaneously with a resounding “Don’t!”

“Why not?” I asked playfully.

“Because you can be a little corny.” Jane replied.

“You said be myself.”

“True. But don’t be all of yourself right away.” Eleanor said.

“Okay, no jokes. I will just talk her ear off about my two wonderful daughters who are going to change the world.”

“That’s fine. Just don’t tell any jokes. You’re bad it.” Jane said.

“Your mom thought I was hilarious.”

“Mom was corny too.” Jane replied.

“Yeah. She was. Well, I better get going.”

“Call us after and tell us how it went.” Eleanor asked.

“Will do. I love you.”

“Love you too dad.” They said in unison right before I got in my car and drove to this crazy excuse for a restaurant.

That’s okay, because while I’ve been sitting here, I’ve come up with the perfect joke to break the ice. After she sits down, and we introduce ourselves, I will say, “I hope the food is good or I’ll never show my face in here again.” In my mind I can hear Annie chuckle. If whoever shows up doesn’t like the joke, then I will know she isn’t right for me.

“Please have a seat.”

The guides words cause me to sit bolt upright in my chair. She’s here. My date is here. I feel the table shake slightly as my date grazes the edge of it with her hip before she is guided to her seat. “I’m such a klutz.” She says as she settles in her seat.

“Something to drink?” Our guide asks.

“What are you having?” She asks me.

“The house merlot.”

“Works for me. The house merlot please.” My date responds.

“Very good.” Our guide responds and walks off.

“You won’t be disappointed.” I say.

“In the wine or you?” She responds.

I smile. Witty. I like that. “In the wine. Me, I can’t make any promises. I’m James.”

“I’m Sally. Nice to meet you.”

I’m about to launch into my joke when Sally says, “I hear this place has great food. They better. Or I will never show my face in here again.”

I laugh loudly. Maybe tonight won’t be too bad after all.