The car rolled to a stop at the top of the hill, and the driver turned to look over his shoulder. "You sure about this, miss?" The young lady in the back seat nodded confidently, but he could see her hands nervously smoothing the folds of her party dress. "Well, if you run into trouble, I'll be waiting right here. You just come a running, and I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, Ernie. I know I can count on you." She smiled bravely, opened the door, and began walking. The lengthening shadows of evening made the house seem more forbidding than it had earlier in the day when she had decided to accept the invitation. Then, it had seemed to be a cheery, if lonely, Victorian mansion. Now, it had more of the feeling of a haunted house.
One, two, three, four, five. She climbed the steps up onto the porch, and paused. The invitation had come by mail two weeks before. It was an old-fashioned thing with gilt letters and an ornately embossed black border. It definitely had not been printed on a bubble jet printer, she thought, and smiled in spite of her nerves. What kind of man would send such an invitation? She didn't know. But then again, she didn't know what kind of man would invite a woman that he had never met to join him for a birthday party, either.
Her hand trembled very slightly as she reached for the brass knocker. She knocked twice, and heard footsteps approach immediately after the knock. The door opened quickly. For a moment, both of them surveyed each other wordlessly. He was a large man, tall and quite broad, but he stood rather stoop-shouldered, and one leg seemed shorter than the other. He was dressed all in black; the red rose in his lapel stood out strongly because of the contrast, and his pale skin seemed white against the somber color of his suit.
Her neighbors had told her that she shouldn't go to the party. They said that he was a monster. So far, only his face matched their description. His mouth seemed to have been twisted hard to the left, and a single knife-edged tooth protruded from its extreme edge. In pulling his mouth to the left, his nose had also been twisted, though it still bore close resemblance to a human nose. She almost gasped when she finally saw his eyes. The right eye was a brilliant, icy blue. The left was covered by a heavy patch.
He stepped back from the door and gestured for her to enter. "Please come in." His speech, though husky, was easy to understand, and much different from the growl she expected. "Unfortunately, all of the other guests have declined my invitation."
Feeling as though she was stepping into another time, a time of beauties, beasts, and castles, Beth stepped across the threshold and into the house of Henry Bradford, feeling surreptitiously to make sure that the pepper spray was still nestled in the little pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.
She gazed around her, taking in the high ceilings, the crystal lights, the paintings on the dark-paneled walls, and the thick, colorful rugs on the floors. She heard the door close softly behind her, and turned. "I feel like I'm in a fairy tale," she said, smiling.
"Beauty and the Beast?" he asked, his mouth twisting into what she guessed was a smile.
"Yes." As his face fell, she realized what she had said, and rushed to correct herself. "No, I didn't mean it like that."
His hand rose to stop her, and once again, his face twisted into a smile. "Don't worry. I won't imprison you here. It's a birthday party, nothing more. Please excuse me." He brushed past her, and led the way down the hallway to the dining room.
A panorama spread itself before them. The lights of the town were winking on down in the valley, and the sun had just sunk below the horizon in front of them. The sky was a riot of red, purple, and deepening blue. Once again, she found herself smiling. "It's beautiful."
"Yes," said his voice, so close behind her that she started, "it is."
She turned, stepping back from him as she did so. "So, what are we going to do now?"
He bowed his head a little sheepishly. "I'm not sure. I don't entertain very often. Do you have any suggestions?"
She surveyed the room, noting the small white birthday cake on the table, and then said, "Why don't you show me your house? I've heard a lot of rumors, but I've never been here before."
He cocked his head quizzically. She hoped that he wouldn't ask about the rumors, but he just flashed his attempt at a smile, and said, "alright."
They spent the next hour wandering the house, climbing the stairs to stand on the high balcony and look up that the stars, running their fingers along the spines of the books in the library, glancing into bedrooms that hadn't been used in years, and plinking at a piano that might have been in tune a decade before. When they arrived back at the dining room, she sat down at his invitation, and thanked him. "Your house is beautiful."
For a moment, there was silence, and she found herself worrying. She blinked several times. Her eyes felt dry. "Will you excuse me for a moment? May I use your bathroom?"
"Certainly." He gestured toward the bathroom.
In the bathroom, she took an eyedropper from her purse, and moistened her left eye. After blinking several times to clear away the tears, she returned to the dining room. He looked up from cutting the cake. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," she replied. "When I was little, I was playing chase with some friends. I tried to jump over a fence to hide, but I caught my foot and fell. I hit my head and hurt my eye. The tear duct doesn't work any more, so I have to put eye drops in it. That's all."
He sank into a chair, his crooked smile fading into a look of wistful remembering. "May I tell you a story?"
She nodded her head, curious at the change that had suddenly come over him. He walked to the hutch, opened one of the lower doors, and pulled a heavy album from the shelves. Setting it on the table, he sank back into his chair.
"Once upon a time, there was a very small town set in a valley high in the mountains. In this town, there were farmers and store-keepers, and mechanics, but there was only one doctor, and there was only one mayor. The mayor and the doctor were the aristocracy in that town, and when it was announced that the mayor's wife, and the doctor's wife were both pregnant, the whole town was excited.
"Now, the doctor and the mayor were fast friends, but their wives had never gotten along well, so when both went into labor at the same time, the doctor was in a bit of a quandary. He wanted to attend at the birth of his own baby, but he felt like he should be there for his friend. At last, he decided to go and take care of his best friend's wife, and to leave his own wife in the hands of one of the older women in town.
"The mayor's daughter was born without any trouble. She was a perfect little angel, and the mayor was so proud that he could scarcely keep his buttons from bursting. When the doctor arrived back at his own house, he found it dark. He rushed up to the bedroom, calling for his wife, but there was no answer. On the bed lay a little boy, wrapped in a blanket. A note on the front read, 'I'm sorry.'"
He stopped, and with trembling hands opened the album. There, on the front page, was a picture of a baby boy. His mouth seemed to have been twisted hard to the left. In pulling his mouth to the left, his nose had also been twisted, though it still bore close resemblance to a human nose. Though his eyes were open, both were white, they peered out at a world that they would never see. Beth stared at the picture, and shivered involuntarily.
"Look at me, forgetting my manners. It really has been a long time since I've had anyone else around. Can I offer you some cake?"
"Go on with your story. I'll serve the cake." As Beth lifted a piece of cake onto a plate for him, she noticed the delicate white letters on the cake, almost invisible against the white frosting. They said, "Happy Birthday to Us."
His voice shook slightly as he returned to the story. "The people of the town didn't know quite what to do. They loved their doctor, but they couldn't stand the sight of his monstrous son. So they pooled their money, and built him a beautiful mansion up on the ridge above town. They hired an old woman who was nearly blind to care for his house and his son, and they asked him not to bring his son into town.
"He was never sure why he agreed to their request. He said that he thought about leaving, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving his best friend, so he moved into the mansion on the ridge, and began caring for his son the best that he could. He spent his days on house visits in the town, and he spent his nights working to find a way to help his son. He studied electronics, biomechanics, and optics. He spent nearly all of his money on books, tools, and carefully annotated experiments. Many times, people from the town mentioned that they'd seen a light on in his house at some ungodly hour of the night. If they asked what he was doing, the doctor always replied, 'I'm trying to build hope.' He always refused to give any more explanation." Henry glanced over at Beth to gauge her response, and found her staring down at the town. "Am I boring you?"
"No, not at all. I just can't believe it. I mean, please, finish your story. I want to know what happens next." She smiled at him as if they were sharing some secret inside joke.
Henry grimaced in return, and began again, his voice soft, and tinged with emotion. "One day, three or four years after the birth of the children, the doctor called the mayor with unbelievable news. He explained that he had finally succeeded in building an artificial eye for his son. For a normal person, he said, it was indistinguishable from a real eye. He started to explain how the eye worked, but the mayor cut him off, saying, 'You know I'll never understand what you're talking about.'
"The next day, the doctor spent the entire day in a small operating room that he had set up for himself on the top floor of the house. When he was finished, just as if God himself had touched the boy's eye, his son could see. It was only one eye, but he could see."
Once again, Henry looked over at Beth. This time, he found her staring at him. He cleared his throat nervously, and continued. "The doctor once again went back to his work, but this time it was with a light heart. He knew what he was doing. He knew he could succeed. All he needed to do was to finish one more eye. The rest would be easy.
"About six months later, the doctor finished his work. He went to bed that night exhausted, but happier than he had ever been before. In the morning, as he was making his rounds, he stopped by his friend's office to tell him the news. He had just finished when the phone rang. It was the mayor's wife. He could hear her from clear across the room. Their daughter, the angel, had fallen while playing chase, and was unconscious."
Without warning, Beth stood and ran from the room. Henry started to his feet, and followed her to where she stood, staring into the mirror. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
She searched his reflection in the mirror. "They never told me."
"Your mother didn't know."
"But Daddy did?"
"Yes."
"I thought that my eye was a little bit different color because it had been injured."
Henry shook his head sadly.
Beth turned slowly, and with infinite care, lifted the patch covering Henry's left eye. The milky white emptiness stared back at her.
"He never had a chance to finish, did he?"
Again, Henry shook his head, trying desperately to clear the lump that was all of a sudden blocking his speech.
"How did you find out? Who told you the story?"
"My dad told me a little bit, but your dad filled in most of the blanks. He came up here after the accident to tell me. He used to come up here quite often to talk to me, and make sure that I was OK. He made sure that I knew everything he knew. When I heard that he had died, I thought that I should make sure that you knew the truth."
"Thank you."
Henry just nodded miserably.
Beth opened her mouth several times to speak, but her mind was racing too fast for words. Finally, she asked, "Do you think you'll ever be able to finish what he started?"
Again, Henry's face split in a crooked smile. "What, and make another eye?"
"Yeah."
"I could. I have all of his notes, and I've actually made a couple of eyes. I sell them. That's how I pay for all of this. The people down there don't remember enough to keep paying for me to live up here."
"So, why haven't you made one for yourself?"
"My dad said that his eyes were indistinguishable from real eyes. He was wrong. I don't want to gain the ability to see everything, and lose the ability to cry about anything."
She looked up at him, and saw a tear glistening on his cheek. "Somehow, that makes sense. Thank you."
