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MidReal Story
Blind Date
Scenario:An extremely beautiful skinny completely blind 17 year old girl sitting in the girls locker room at school waiting for her helper to get ready for PE class and living with her dad who helps her with personal duties
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Samantha
She is a 17yearold high school student who is blind. She is brave, independent, and sensitive. Samantha navigates everyday challenges with courage, relying on her cane and her exceptional hearing. At home, she lives with her caring father who supports her emotionally and physically. At school, she faces bullying from a girl named Stacey but finds solace in her friends. During PE class, she relies on a helper assigned to her. Her experiences reveal her resilience and determination.
Dad
He is Samantha's dedicated caretaker and father. He is nurturing, protective, and supportive. He ensures Samantha's physical needs are met, assisting her with tasks like bathing and dressing. Emotionally, he encourages Samantha's independence by letting her experience life without interference. His gentle guidance helps build Samantha's confidence. Despite the challenges of raising a blind daughter alone, he provides a stable and loving environment for Samantha to grow and thrive. His relationship with Samantha is deeply nurturing.
Jen
She is one of Samantha's close friends at school. She is loyal, kind, and understanding. Jen stands by Samantha despite the bullying she faces from Stacey. Her supportive nature provides comfort to Samantha during difficult moments at school. Jen’s presence in Samantha’s life offers emotional stability and solidarity, helping counteract the negative influences of Stacey’s bullying behavior. Her friendship is a source of strength and continuity in Samantha’s life.
I sat in the girls locker room at school, my cane leaning against the bench in front of me, listening as women walked by, into their stalls, or to wash their hands.
I heard a girl whisper to another, "I don't know how she does it."
"Does what?"
"She's blind, but she goes to this school."
"I know. I've seen her around. I heard she is beautiful."
"If you can call that beautiful…"
"I do. I think she's gorgeous."
The girls walked off and I couldn't hear them anymore.
I smiled.
It was nice to know that my looks were noticed.
I had been blind since birth, and even though it was tough at times, I never gave up.
My hearing was exceptional, and my sense of touch was better than most sighted people.
I had felt Braille since I was little, and my dad taught me how to read and write it.
My cane was my best friend and helped me get around.
Even though it was tough sometimes, I never gave up and always pushed forward.
"Sam?"
I heard my name being called by one of my closest friends at school.
"Sam?"
It was Jen, one of the first friends I made when I started going to this school.
I turned my head toward her voice and heard her footsteps as she walked toward me.
Her gym bag hit the floor with a thud beside me, and I could smell her strawberry shampoo as she sat down next to me.
The metal locker door creaked open, and I heard the rustling of clothes as she changed into her PE uniform.
I waited for her to get ready before we headed out to the gym.
A group of girls walked by, their sneakers squeaking against the tile floor.
"Hey, Sam," Jen said, "Coach Martinez set up an obstacle course for us today."
My stomach tightened at the thought, but I kept my voice steady.
"Can you describe it to me?"
"Sure," she replied.
"There's a series of hurdles, followed by a balance beam, then a rope climb, and finally a tire run."
I nodded, visualizing the course in my mind.
"Jen, do you think Coach Martinez knows about my condition?"
"Yeah, I told him last week, and he seemed really interested in how you navigate things."
"Did he say anything else?"
I fidgeted with my cane, running my fingers over the metallic lockers.
The creaking of the locker doors echoed around us, and I could hear the distant sound of a whistle blowing.
"I think he's open to making accommodations," she said.
"He mentioned something about wanting to make sure you feel included."
I nodded, thinking about the obstacle course and how I would tackle it.
The rope climb was the part that worried me the most.
Dad always told me to speak up when I needed help, but asking for favors still made my throat tighten.
"Jen," I said, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
"Can I ask you something and please be honest?"
I heard her zip up her gym bag next to me and then the sound of her standing up.
"Sure, Sam. What is it?"
I sat there on the wooden bench, listening to her gym shoes squeak as she moved around, packing her bag.
The scent of strawberry shampoo grew stronger as she leaned down toward me to help me up.
"Here, Sam," she said, "let me help you."
Her hands touched my shoulders, and I could feel her warmth through my clothes.
My heart skipped a beat, and I wondered if she noticed how fast it was racing.
I didn't know why I was feeling this way, but something about her touch made me feel alive.
The question I had been wanting to ask for a while burned in my throat, but it wasn't about the obstacle course or school.
It was about us, and I was scared of the answer.
I gripped my cane tighter as other girls filed out of the locker room.
Their voices faded into the distance, leaving just the two of us.
I reached for Jen's arm, using the signal we always used when I needed her guidance.
But this time, my hand lingered a little longer than usual.
I shifted closer to her on the bench, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The locker room had emptied except for us, the distant echoes of girls chattering fading down the hallway.
My fingers trembled as I gripped my cane, focusing on the solid feel of it to steady myself.
Jen's strawberry scent enveloped me as she finished organizing her gym clothes.
The words I'd been holding back for months pressed against my lips.
When she touched my arm to guide me up, I stayed seated.
I grip my cane tighter, my palms sweating.
Her hand rests on my shoulder, and I can hear her steady breathing.
The locker room's emptiness amplifies every sound - the drip of a distant faucet, the squeak of her sneakers on tile.
My throat tightens as I force myself to speak.
"How much do you love me?"
I whisper, the words barely audible.
My heart pounds so loud I worry it might drown out her response.
The strawberry scent of her shampoo intensifies as she shifts closer, her hand tensing slightly on my shoulder.
"Sam," she says softly, her voice a mix of surprise and something else I can't quite place.
"I didn't realize you felt that way."
Her hand moves to my cheek, and I can feel the warmth of her palm as she adds, "But I think I might love you more than you know."
My heart soars at her words, and I lean into her touch.
Her fingers caress my cheek, and the locker room seems to fade away except for the two of us.
The only sounds are our breathing and the distant hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
Following the warmth of her touch, I release my cane and slowly raise my trembling hand.
My fingertips find the curve of her jawline, then trace up to her soft cheeks.
I map the contours of her face with my fingers, memorizing the feel of her skin.
She remains perfectly still as I explore, her breath catching occasionally.
The strawberry scent grows stronger as I lean forward, drawn by an irresistible pull.
My fingertips linger on her lips, feeling the slight curve of a smile.
The hum of the locker room's lights seems to fade into the background as I focus on the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Her hand remains steady on my cheek, while her other hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers.
The strawberry scent envelops me as she leans closer, and I feel the slight tremor in her body matching the nervous energy coursing through me.
My fingers still tracing her face, I feel her lean closer, her breath warm against my skin.
The locker room's background noise fades as my focus narrows to just us - her racing pulse under my fingertips, the slight tremor in her hands where they rest on my shoulders.
Her strawberry scent grows stronger as she tilts her head, and I sense the mere inches between our faces.
My heart pounds so loudly I wonder if she can hear it too.
Time seems to slow as I slide my hand to cup her cheek, using the touch to guide me forward.
My fingers still rest on her cheek as we both lean forward hesitantly.
The locker room's humid air wraps around us while my other hand finds her shoulder for balance.
Her breath catches when our noses brush, making my heart skip a beat.
The strawberry scent of her shampoo grows stronger as she moves closer, her hands sliding up to cradle my face.
I feel the slight tremor in her fingers matching my own nervousness.
Our foreheads touch first, a gentle connection that makes me gasp softly.