The Schwa Was Here

Crawley looked at me square in the eye. "You're a moron."

"I thought you just said I was brighter than you gave me credit for."

"I stand corrected."

***

As it turns out, Crawley had fractured his hip again. It wasn't bad, but a fracture is a fracture. He couldn't keep the news from his "sson," but as Lexie's parents were still in Europe, their war was limited to transatlantic phone calls. They insisted he spend time in a nursing home, and he told them what they could do with their nursing home. In the end, Crawley agreed to hire a full-time nurse, but in the meantime was happy to torment the nurses at the hospital.

From his hospital room, Crawley commanded Lexie to go to school the next day rather than visit him, and he raised such a stink she did as she was told. My parents, on the other hand, let me take off school that day, since I had been up all night with Crawley, and that gave me time to take the subway down to the Academy of the Blind before school let out.

At the end of their school day, the students left with preci­sion and care, unlike the mob scene at most other schools. Many students were escorted by Seeing Eye dogs, parents, or nannies. A few older ones went out alone with white canes tap­ping the pavement in front of them. Some of Lexie's school­mates seemed well accustomed to their state; for others, it was a serious hardship. I never imagined there was such a range in how people handled being blind.

The strangest thing of all was the way drivers used noisemak- ers to guide their student to the car. Some clicked, some whirred, some whistled—and no two -were the same. It was amazing, because every kid found their way to the right car with just a couple of toots or clicks.

Moxie spotted me before I spotted Lexie, and he brought her to me.

"Moxie? What's wrong, boy?"

"Hi, Lexie."

It only took an instant for her to recognize my voice. "Anthony, what are you doing here? Is my grandfather all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. I'm here because I needed to talk to you."

"So you came all the way here? Couldn't you wait till I got home?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I didn't want to."

Someone pulled up to the curb, rolled down the window, and blew a slide whistle.

"Do they do that at all blind schools?" I asked Lexie.

"I don't think so," she said. "This one is just weird." She turned her head slightly to the side. "I hear my driver further up the street. C'mon, you can ride home with me."

She led me to a black Lincoln—a car service that the Craw- leys had hired to take Lexie to and from school. The driver had a Pakistani look about him, and rather than using a plain old noisemaker, he was playing the harmonica. Badly.

"My father started him off with a kazoo. I gave him the har­monica because it's so much more dignified. I figure he might actually be able to play by the end of the school year."

We got in the car and sped off, with Moxie lying across our feet.

"Your grandfather says you're angry at me."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah, and I think I've got a right to know why. I mean, you dumped me in the middle of a concert, and now you're the one who's angry at me?"

Moxie sensed a little anger on my part, and he barked. It was the first time I had ever heard him bark.

"Dumped you? Is that what you think?"

"No, I guess not. I guess you just fired me. That's just as bad. So now I want to know why you're the one who's angry. If any­one should be mad, it's me."

"I'm not angry. I'm just... disappointed."

"Why?"

"Because you dumped me."

"Now you're just playing games with me."

"No, I'm not," she said. "As long as you were being paid, we couldn't really be dating, could we? I even said that at the con­cert, didn't I?"

"Yes, but—"

"So if Calvin is my paid escort, my grandfather gets what he wants, and then you could ask me out for a real date." And then she added, "But you didn't."

My jaw swung open like Wendell Tiggor in math. Words failed me.

"I swear," said Lexie, "you sighted people don't see anything unless it's staring you in the face." And then she leaned forward and planted a kiss square on my mouth. It was a perfect hit, like she had a radar lock on my lips. Then she said, "Is there anything unclear about that, or do you need a Hallmark card?"

I looked around, self-conscious as anything, but there was no one to see us but Moxie and the Pakistani driver, who kept his eyes on the road like it was the hardest level of a video game.

"I guess I get the picture now," was all I could say. Then a nasty little thought surfaced to ruin the moment.

"What about the Schwa?"

"Calvin's my friend," Lexie said. "He'll understand."

"I don't think so. He thinks you're going out."

"Don't be silly. No, he doesn't."

"Hey—you don't know him like I do."

"He's my escort. We have fun together. He knows there's nothing more to it than that."

"You don't get it, do you? If we start going out, it will crush him. He's one of us handicapped sighted people who believes what he sees."