The Bride Wore Size 12 (Heather Wells 5)

Lisa frowns at Howard. “Classes haven’t started yet, Howard.”

“I’m t-trying to get a head start on my reading,” Howard says. “I’m premed, remember?”

Lisa gives Howard an odd look, but it doesn’t matter. There are plenty of other volunteers.

“I’ll do it,” Rajiv says. “I’m heading in that direction anyway.”

“No, no,” Sarah says, leaping up from behind her desk. “Really, I don’t mind doing it. I’m free.”

“You aren’t free, Sarah,” Lisa says, looking annoyed. “I’m expecting Jasmine’s parents within the hour. I need you here.”

Sarah looks crushed but, never one to shirk her duty, says, “Of course. Well, nice to meet you, Dave.” Having recovered from her embarrassing drooling incident, she thrusts her hand toward the new hire. “I’m Sarah Rosenberg, the building GA.”

“Hi, Sarah Rosenberg, the building GA,” Dave says, thrusting out his own strong brown hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

It’s only when his fingers end up dangling about twelve inches higher than Sarah’s that I take a closer look at Dave’s face and realize the truth.

20

Whoever thinks of her own marriage

With a calm heart and a clear eye

Has never considered the savage

Ways the whole shebang can die.

“The Whole Shebang,”

written by Heather Wells

Sarah’s incredulous. “You hired a blind RA?”

We’re standing in Lisa’s office. Kyle and Howard have left, as has Rajiv. He’s gone to escort Dave to the Housing Office to get his paperwork completed, though at first Dave protested that he didn’t need an escort.

“I’ve already taken a tour of the campus,” he’d said cheerfully. “The Housing Office is straight across the park, then another two blocks straight from there, then it’s the first door to the right, on the corner.”

It was a strange way to put it (to a sighted person), but he was completely correct.

“I’m headed to the bookstore,” Rajiv had said, “which is in the same direction, but two doors down. Might as well go together.”

Rajiv seemed fascinated by the sight of the collapsible white cane Dave suddenly produced from his backpack, unfolded, then slashed about like a cowboy with a whip (we all backed away to avoid getting hit). I got the feeling Rajiv wanted to see Dave swinging that thing through the park. I wanted to too.

“What if I did hire a blind RA?” Lisa demands, folding her arms across her chest, then wincing and dropping them to her sides again. It was obvious—to me, anyway—that her nipples were still sore. “I never expected you, of all people, Sarah, to be so close-minded. Dave may be limited visually, but he makes up for it by being far from limited mentally.”

Sarah’s mouth sags open. “I didn’t mean—I just meant, how is he going to . . . ?”

“ . . . do the job for which he’s been hired?” Lisa finishes for her. “This is only a guess, but I’m thinking he’s going to do it better than either Howard or Kyle.”

“And he’s literally going to do it blind,” I point out.

Neither Lisa nor Sarah smiles at my little joke. I’m not surprised. Many of my finest witticisms go unappreciated.

“Dave may no longer be able to drive, or make out people’s facial expressions, or even tell what kind of food he’s feeding his cat,” Lisa goes on, “but during my interview with him, it was obvious to me that he sees a lot more than most sighted people. It might interest you to know that he served in the military over in Afghanistan. His vision problems are the result of head trauma from a roadside bomb.”

I can’t help inhaling sharply. “Oh, how terrible.” Sarah’s mouth sags even further.

“But according to his application,” Lisa says, tapping the manila file on her desk, “he’s already learned how to read braille. He’s decided to go back to school to get his master’s degree in computer science, and none of the people who recommended him for the RA position believe his lack of sight will stand in his way. His parents are deceased, so he’s here on a full academic scholarship, which means he’s also a work-study student.”

As soon as I hear the words “work-study student,” I pounce. Work-study students are like gold, because 35 percent of what they earn working for us comes out of the college’s budget, not the building’s individual budget. That leaves me more money to buy fun things, such as snacks and soda for staff parties . . . although technically I’m not supposed to be using money from the budget to purchase these kinds of items.

But after seeing the orgy of finger sandwiches in the president’s office, I’m going to be buying all the pizza and Diet Coke for the staff—what’s left of it—our budget can afford.

“We could give him a work-study position at the front desk,” I say. “There are always night and early-morning shifts open. Classes will be starting soon, and as much as Gavin might disagree, he can’t work twenty-four/seven—”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lisa says with a smile at me. “Dave says he has this thing, some kind of label maker that prints things in braille.”

“Perfect,” I say, thinking of my emergency contact list. It would look even more brilliant shrunk down to pocket size in braille. “Working the desk will be a big change after dodging IEDs in Afghanistan, but it pays, and we definitely need the help.”

“I don’t think Dave’s going to mind,” Lisa says. “He says he’s ready to make a completely new start, he and Itchy, his cat.”

I hear a whimper from Sarah’s direction. When I glance at her, I’m surprised to see that her face has crumpled.

“Sarah,” I ask in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Lisa frowns at her. “Sarah, I know residents aren’t allowed to have pets in the building, but I told Dave we’d make an exception for Itchy because it’s a therapy cat. My understanding is that the animal has really helped him through his recovery—”

“God!” Sarah cries. Tears are beginning to trickle down her face. It’s a repeat performance of yesterday, only this time there’s no dead body in sight. “What kind of person do you think I am? I’m not upset because you’re bending the rules for his cat! I think it’s incredibly sweet that he has a cat. I think it’s incredibly sweet that you—oh, Lisa!”