Chapter One
The first time I saw him, he was walking down the street singing to himself.  Even if it wasn't for the white cane, I would have known by the way he held his head tipped back, his eyes squeezed shut, completely in his own world.  He was wearing a black leather jacket and his long blonde hair spread out over his shoulders.  I was tempted to follow him, or do anything that might catch his attention, but it was late and I was waiting for a very infrequent bus.  I would have to let him go.  But then he walked by again, and then a third time. 
I was struck by how relaxed and confident he seemed.  He must have been blind his whole life, I thought, my pulse quickening.  My bus came and I got on, but the whole time I was thinking, I must see him somehow.  It has to happen.  The only plan that came to mind was to put an ad in the Stranger, the local free weekly paper.  They have an 'I Saw You' section in the personals ad that is very popular and I had always wanted to try it.  I had to admit it was a pretty stupid plan.  After all, how would he even know it was there?  But I couldn't think of anything else, so I stifled my embarrassment and placed the following ad:
BLIND GUY walking up and down Broadway 9PM 11/2, black leather jacket, singing.  OK, so he can't read this ad, but if you know him please tell him to call.  I'd like to talk to him.  I called the voice mailbox for my ad every day for a month, but there was no reply, and eventually I forgot about him.  Six months later I was walking down the same street, shopping and generally wasting time.  On the corner in from of Payless was a guy playing a guitar.  I almost walked right by him, when suddenly I noticed the white cane laying across his empty guitar case.  My heart almost stopped and I did the biggest double take --- it was him.  There he was, just inches from me, practically displaying himself on the street as if he were waiting for me to go over and talk to him.  It was too much.  I retreated to the Urban Outfitters across the street and pretended to look at the clothes while I watched him through the plate glass.  Under normal circumstances I am a shy person and there is nothing I hate more than making idle conversation with a stranger.  But he was the one I had been waiting for, and now I had been given a second chance. 
I found myself pulled back across the street, as if pulled by gravity.  For awhile I just stood there and watched him play.  I watched his fingers move across the strings, giving his world solidity and shape.  I thought of him touching my face, learning its outlines, and I felt as if I would faint.  I was not the only audience member.  Several people stopped for a few minutes to listen, they threw some money in the guitar case and moved on.  I noticed an attractive Asian girl standing next to me, and I saw my own intense gaze mirrored in her face. 
For a moment I was thrown--could there actually be another person who shared these same desires?  I probably should have struck up a friendship with her instead, but at the time my only thought was, I saw him first.  Emboldened by jealousy, the next time he paused to tune the guitar, I stepped forward and spoke.  You really sound good, I lied.  On the noisy street corner, I had barely heard a single note.  Not that it mattered.  His face brightened as it turned in my direction.  He didn't know a pretty girl was listening, I thought with an excited shiver. 
"Hey, thanks.  Do you have any requests?"  Now I was stuck. 
"Oh, I dunno. Anything." 
"Okay, here's one.  I think you'll like this."  He started to play while I waited impatiently for the song to be over so we could talk some more.  I was standing closer now, and I could see that he had glass eyes.  They almost looked real, but somehow didn't catch the light quite the right way, and they remained rigid and unmoving.  Finally the song was over.  I complimented him again, then introduced myself and before I knew it we were having a real conversation. 
I found out that his name was Chad, and he lived in the apartment building directly behind us.  He lived on SSI, but considered himself a professional musician.  Being near him, I felt powerful and sexy and somehow the words kept pouring out of my mouth.  I stayed on the corner with him for a long time, talking and listening to him play.  I gave him a drink from my water bottle, shivering again as he touched the top with his fingers before he took a drink.  When he handed the bottle back to me, I touched it in the same way, first with my fingers, then with my tongue, wondering what it felt like to him.  We happened to be standing next to my bus stop, and I must have seen the number seven go by about five times, but I couldn't leave. 
My luck did not hold though, eventually two scary homeless-type guys came by and joined in the conversation.  When they started making crude comments about me, I had to leave.  I hadn't found out his phone humber, or even his last name.  But now I had a mission.  At least I knew where he lived.  Broadway is a busy street full of stores I like to shop at.  There had to be a good chance I would run into him again, if only I went there often enough. 
For two months I nearly wore out my bus pass going up to Broadway every chance I got.  I lurked on the corner by the apartment, buying clothes I couldn't afford and eating meals I didn't want, just to have an excuse to stay longer, but everytime I went home disappointed, wondering why I couldn't just get over it and have a normal boyfriend, one I didn't have to turn into a stalker to meet.
Then, one sunny day in June, my plan worked.  I had been walking up and down the street for nearly an hour and was about to call it quits when I saw him cross the street headed towards me. 
But wait ... he was with some heavy metal guy with long hair and tattos.  I didn't want to make a pass at thim in front of some other guy.  I hesitated for a minute and they walked by me.  But of course he didn't know I was there; unless I made the first move, I was invisible. 
"Chad!" I shouted, running after him.
He whirled around suddenly, fixing me with his flat glassy stare.
"Who is it?"
"Its me, Deborah.  I listened to you playing guitar a few weeks ago, I mean we talked a little and I'm sorry I left so suddenly, but I haven't really seen you around since then."  In my nervousness I was babbling and nearly revealed that I had been stalking him for a month.  But here didn't seem to notice.  In fact, he looked pleased to run into me again.  And miraculously, the other guy disappeared; he wasn't even a friend, just some guy who had helped him across the street. 
"So, um, how have you been?" I asked.
"Not so good, I caught a real bad cold." He coughed in demonstration, then took another drag on his cigarette.  "Now I got an ear infection and I'm going down to the Polyclinic to get it checked out.  It's been hurting for a few days and I'm starting to get worried.  I mean, it would really suck if I lost my hearing." He was trying to be casual, but he was clearly worried and with good reason.  I felt a flash of sympathy.  True, I was attracted to his disability, but that didn't mean I wihsed him further misfortune.
"Yea, that would really suck." I agreed.
"Um, I know you're probably really busy, but would you mind telling me when the number nine bus comes?"
I smiled slowly.  "No, I'm not busy at all.  I was just hanging around anyway.  I don't mind waiting."


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