The Eyes and Ears of Love (18 page)

“Well,” she says, calling attention to his silence.

Bentley clears his throat, “Dorothy! I’m so glad you answered! I was starting to feel like an idiot talking to a door.”

“You were pretty idiotic yesterday, so I don’t know why you would just now be starting to feel like one,” she says bluntly.

He suppresses a laugh. “Fair enough. You’re right, I was an idiot, I am an idiot. I shouldn’t have brought you to the flea market.”

She goes on. “I don’t need to be ambushed with exposure to the real world. I don’t know if or when I’ll be ready for reality, but when I am ready,” her voice softens, “I hope you’ll be there, holding my hand.”

Bentley looks at her, straightening up with surprise, unable to help the smile that crosses his face. “Of course I will.”

“So . . . you brought me a pie?”

Bentley chuckles. “Yeah, it’s a cherry pie. My mom made it.”

“Well, do you want to share it?”

“Right now?” He looks down at his watch. “But, it’s eight in the morning!”

“So?”

Bentley grabs two forks from the kitchen and both Bentley and Dorothy eat directly from the pie pan on her bed. Dorothy lays on her stomach, holding her chin up with one hand, eating with the other.

“Your mom bakes pretty well!” she says.

“She’s had a lot of time to practice.” He goes on, “hey, will you go with me somewhere this morning?”

She drops her fork in the pan and mutters, “therapy?”

“No, not even close. The second part of my peace offering!”

“Seriously, its fine, the pie was more than enough.”

“Then just come with me, not for a peace offering, but because I’m asking you to.”

Dorothy groans.

“Is that a yes?” he says, gently bumping her shoulder with his.

She rolls her eyes with a faint smile. “Fine.”

When Bentley parks at their destination, he supports Dorothy with an extended arm. This time, she holds onto him without releasing. They walk up several steps together, slowly, and enter into a cool room.

A woman greets them with a high-pitched voice. “Welcome to Guardian Angels! I’m Monica, how can I help you folks?”

“Hi Monica, I’m Bentley Menichelli, I called earlier today.”

“Yes, Mr. Menichelli! Such a pleasure to meet you. I have to say, what you do for the disabled community is nothing short of heroic.”

He feels himself blushing and is grateful Dorothy can’t see. “Thanks Monica, you’re too kind.”

“Well, you are welcome to look at all dogs we have available.” Monica insists.

“Dogs?” Dorothy interjects, scrunching her forehead. “You brought me here to help you pick out a dog?”

“No, we’re here so you can adopt a seeing guide dog.”

“Bentley, I can’t even take care of myself, I don’t need the responsibility of another living thing,” she says.

Monica ushers them into a private room and tells them they just have to meet one particular dog. Approaches Dorothy and Bentley is a dog with a tan, thick, dense coat and a black center. Her ears are large, with one standing erect and the other lopsided. Her eyes are on high alert. The dog nuzzles its wet snout into the palm of Dorothy’s hand.

“That’s Aurora, she’s currently the only German shepherd we have at the facility.”

Dorothy kneels down to Aurora’s eye level. Bentley watches carefully, noticing an odd yet joyous stare in Aurora’s eyes. Dorothy cups her hands around Aurora’s snout and sweeps her fingers down the sides of her face and neck. Dorothy cannot see the scars, but Bentley can see her touching them; the cigarette burns and the cuts.

Monica interjects, “we think she has the one droopy ear from someone trying to cut it off. The cartilage is split in half.”

Dorothy runs her finger across a bald scar on Aurora’s forehead. She sighs and shifts toward Bentley again. “Why did you bring me here?” she asks. She drops her chin. Aurora bounds forward, heavily licking her cheek to raise her head back up.

Before Bentley can answer, Monica says, “Aurora is special. She had a tough life at the beginning, but Guardian Angels reincarnated her. She was brought to us as a rescued puppy and now she is one of the best trained dogs we have here.”   

“How old is she?” Bentley asks.

“She’s two.”

Bentley attempts to move closer to Dorothy. Aurora’s frame becomes rigid, the hairs on her back and neck bristle, and her eyes fix on Bentley’s next move. She growls and Bentley freezes.

“Aurora, stay!” Monica shouts. “I am so sorry, I’ve never seen her act like that before.”

Dorothy stands back up with crossed arms. The corners of her mouth rise. She is clearly amused.

“Dorothy, let’s find you a different dog,” Bentley says.

Dorothy pats Aurora on the head.

“I can’t,” Dorothy says. “She’s already chosen me.”

Bentley crosses his arms and leans against the wall.
They look good together,
he thinks, eyeing them speculatively.

“Why don’t we all go outside and throw a ball around?” Monica suggests.

Outside, in the grass, Monica chucks the ball far into the distance. Aurora’s ears perk up, then she crouches and trots with high, quick steps toward the ball before it even touches the ground.

“We’ve taught Aurora well. She is an outstanding guide dog, she knows basic commands, but most of all she is loyal, as you could tell.”

Aurora retrieves the ball and darts toward Dorothy to be praised.

Dorothy tries to mask her emotions. Bentley knows Dorothy wants to cry because her eyes are damp and they sparkle when the sun glares on them just right.

I finally did something right,
he thinks.

Aurora tackles Dorothy to the ground, smothering her with licking. Bentley stands, admiring their instant companionship.

The laughter dies down; Bentley and Dorothy, accompanied by Aurora, walk to the truck.

“I want to sit in the bed of the truck with Aurora,” Dorothy says, edging around the truck to find the handle on the back

“No!”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Bentley stops her from opening the tail gate. “Aurora will be fine back there by herself. You’re a human, you’ll sit up front, with a seat belt.”

“Then Aurora sits up front with me.”

Bentley crosses his arms. “No. There’s hardly any room up there.

“Fine,” she says. For a moment, Bentley thinks she’s giving in, but she turns away from the truck, gripping Aurora’s leash tightly. “Then Aurora and I will walk back.”

Bentley’s eyes narrow and his teeth clench together. “Fine!” he shouts. “You know, it really seems like this is your world, and I just live in it.”

Dorothy smiles from ear to ear, feeling for the passenger door handle and popping it open. “Hop in, Aurora!”

Bentley shakes his head in disbelief.

As they drive, Bentley carefully approaches the topic he’s wanted to talk about. “Will you do me a favor?”

“I can’t promise anything,” she says, distracted, as she rubs Aurora’s head.

“Group therapy is tonight, and—”

“And you adopted Aurora just to bribe me into going to group therapy?” Dorothy interrupts.

“What? No. Just listen. For once in your life, please, just shut your mouth and listen,” he snaps. “Group therapy isn’t just about you, it’s about being there for someone who is in need of emotional and physical support,” he says. “I ask that you come and support people in need. You don’t need to speak or even listen, but just be there physically.”

“Can Aurora come?”

“After all that, all you care about is if the dog can come?” He blinks several times before saying with a laugh, “yes, the damn dog can come.”

After arriving back at the facility, Bentley enters his office and turns on the overhead light. Before him is a pile of unattended paperwork. He heaves a sigh.

Nurse Lena barges in without knocking. “A dog?” she hisses, fury in her eyes.

“Yes,” he hesitates, taken aback by her glare. “Her name’s Aurora.”

“I don’t do dogs, Mr. Menichelli,” she scorns.

“But…”

Nurse Lena rolls her eyes.

“Now, hear me out. Aurora is not just a dog, she’s a guide dog for Dorothy.”

“None of our other attendants adopted dogs while residing at the facility.”

“You did say a way to a woman’s heart is through companionship!”

“Yeah, as in your friendship, not the companionship of a dog!”

Bentley slides into his office chair. “Well, you should be more explicit.”

“You know what I think?” She continues, squaring her shoulders toward him. “I think you like her.”

He doesn’t respond. “Just tell me one thing. Why her?” She pauses. “Don’t get me wrong, Dorothy is a lovely girl, now that I’ve gotten to know her, but she can be a lot of work! Why put in so much effort for this one person?”

Bentley shrugs his shoulders.

Nurse Lena makes herself at home and plops down on the corner of his desk. Her eyes dart back and forth as if to analyze Bentley’s slumped posture. “Come on, Bentley. Why her?”

“I guess I feel like I already know her, like I’ve met her before,” he explains.

“
Have
you met her before?”

Bentley shakes his head sharply.

“I just get the impression that you feel like you owe her something.”

“I don’t think I owe her anything.” He returns to the pile of documents stacked on his desk, sifting through them absentmindedly.

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, if you like her, which I know you do, don’t bribe her, just ask her out already.” She turns to leave.

He looks up from the pile. “But what will the other guests or the staff think?” he asks.

Her eyes soften and her expression warms, and there’s a trace of a smile on her lips. “They’ll think what I think, which is that you had room in your heart, for yourself, to love someone.” She then presses her mouth into a hard line abruptly. “I will not pick up dog poop,” she warns him before she leaves.

***

Later that evening, Dorothy keeps her word and makes her way to the group therapy room. The room is quiet, and Dorothy feels she must be the first one there. Aurora drapes herself diagonally across her feet.

Gradually, voices join, and ultimately she hears Bentley ask, “Who wants to start tonight?”

“I feel embarrassed,” says a girl named Hannah, jumping right in. “I don’t know why, but I feel ashamed, like I did something wrong. I was diagnosed with eye cancer.” She pauses momentarily. “I was beautiful…I mean, that’s what people said. I was going to be a makeup artist. I loved putting my makeup on every morning, it made me feel like people noticed me.”

“You don’t think you are or can still be all those qualities?” Bentley asks.

“No,” she says sternly. “Look at me. I’m not beautiful anymore. I can’t do my makeup or my hair or pick out a cute outfit.”

“You don’t think you could learn how to do those things, like your hair and makeup?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too late, my fiancée already cancelled the wedding.”

Dorothy is flooded with emotions; she feels anger swelling under her skin, her face scrunching up in disbelief.

Hannah continues, “He told me he couldn’t marry someone that doesn’t put effort into her appearance.” She laughs while weeping. “The man who I love and who I was going to marry dumped me because I’m not pretty enough without makeup on. The thing is, too, that he could have lost his arms and legs in a freak accident and I would have still walked down the aisle because I love him unconditionally.” Hannah begins sobbing.

“Hey,” Bentley says. Dorothy hears his chair squeak as he moves to sit closer to Hannah. “That guy was a superficial schmuck,” he says sternly. “You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

Still sobbing, she mutters something muffled. Dorothy imagines Bentley must be hugging her.

After group therapy, Bentley walks Dorothy back to her room. They stand outside her door.

“That was really sweet, what you told that girl, Hannah,” she murmurs.

“I only told her the truth.”

“Do you think she looks beautiful without makeup on?” she asks.

“Absolutely. I actually prefer women without makeup.”

“Really?” she asks, dubious.

“Yeah, I think it’s a rarity. Which makes it beautiful.”

“Would you say you’re a rare, natural beauty?” She faces him, with the sudden burning need to know what he looks like.

“I’m a guy!” he says, as if to dismiss it.

“So?”

“I’m just an ordinary guy.”

“Well, what do you look like?”

He clears his throat. “I’m shorter than most guys; 5’ll.” He pauses momentarily. “I have short brown over-the-top curly hair. I have to buy a special frizz shampoo just to tame it.”