“You sure you’re ready for this?”

I’m sitting with my brother Shane in his vintage Jaguar, parked outside a four-unit brick apartment building located in Wicker Park, just northwest of downtown Chicago.

My new home.

Shane’s not happy that I’m moving out of his house, as evidenced by the creaking of the leather steering wheel cover as he tightens his hold on the wheel. I don’t have to be able to see to know my brother is on edge. He’s afraid his blind brother can’t hack it on his own. I’m ready to prove otherwise.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say. I’m more than ready. I’ve been planning this move for a couple of months now.

Shane’s fiancée, Beth, helped me pick out this apartment. It has everything I need: convenient access in and out, an easy-to-navigate floorplan, the basic amenities, and two bedrooms, one of which will serve as my home office. The apartment is within easy walking distance to restaurants, bars, the post office, and a grocery store… everything I’ll need is close at hand. Anything else I need, I can order online or grab an Uber.

I can do this… with a little help from my service dog, Gus, a yellow Lab, and a high-tech electronic cane that allows me to navigate on my own.

“You can still change your mind, Jamie,” Shane says, his voice laced with frustration. “It’s never too late. Just say the word, and I’ll take you home.”

Home.

For the past several years, home has been Shane’s 30-acre estate in Kenilworth, an affluent suburb north of the city. The estate offers everything I could ever want or need: a movie theater, an indoor Olympic-size swimming pool, a professional-grade workout room, staff to wait on me hand-and-foot. And that right there is why I had to go. Shane had made everything too comfy for me, a little too easy. A man has his pride, you know.

I need to do this.

I’m not surprised my family hates the idea of me moving out on my own. They want me to stay put at the Kenilworth house, safe in the lap of luxury, with Shane’s housekeeper, Elly, anticipating my every need. Being waited on like an invalid was a hard pill for me to swallow. Overnight I went from a man serving his country as a US Navy SEAL to a man who’d lost both eyes. One close-range explosion had put an end to my military career, not to mention by ability to see. I didn’t just lose my eyesight that day; I lost my independence, my sense of self. My self-confidence. In a bid to get it back, I decided a few months ago to move out, to find my own place and stand on my own two feet.

Today’s that day. It’s moving day.

I reach across the console and clasp Shane’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Then I steel myself to face the unknown. “Let’s do this.”

I push the passenger door open and swing my feet out to plant them on the sidewalk. This neighborhood is still new territory to me, filled with unfamiliar sounds and smells. All of my senses are on high alert, and it’s a lot to take in all at once: a cold November wind; the hum of congested traffic on the main thoroughfare; the faint strains of live guitar music, probably coming from a tavern that’s open for lunch; the pungent aroma of roasted coffee beans from the yuppie coffee bar down the street; the sweet tang of Chinese carryout. In the distance, car horns compete with the wailing sirens of an ambulance. And from the park across the street come the sounds of a barking dog and children squealing with delight on the playground.

Yeah, it’s a lot to take in all at once, but I’ll get used to it.

My new neighborhood.

My new home.

A moment later, I hear the sound of car doors opening and closing in proximity to us. Jake must have parked his SUV directly behind the Jaguar. Then I hear heavy boots hitting the pavement and Gus’s eager bark. When Gus reaches my side, he brings with him a bitingly cold rush of air. He sticks his nose inside my leather jacket.

“Hey, buddy.” I stroke his big head, scratching him behind a soft ear. “You ready to check out our new place?”

Skimming my hands down his back, I locate his harness and grab the handle. Shane’s Jaguar is a tight fit for my over six-foot frame. I step out of the car and straighten, finally able to stretch my legs.

Shane comes around the front of the vehicle to join me on the sidewalk, just as our two younger brothers reach us.

“You guys go on up,” Jake says. “Liam and I will bring in Jamie’s stuff.”

Truthfully, there isn’t much to bring in – just some boxes and my laptop. The apartment’s already furnished with items Beth helped me pick out – a sofa, recliner and coffee table; a dining table and chairs; kitchenware, linens, and towels; a bed and nightstands; a desk and sofa for the office; lamps.

No rugs, though. The apartment has hardwood floors, but I’ll have to live without rugs. Those are a tripping hazard, as I’ve learned the hard way.

All of my worldly possessions are packed into five cardboard boxes and a laptop bag, which are all stowed in the back of Jake’s SUV. I really didn’t have much to bring with me. Life in the Navy kept me on the road for the most part, stationed overseas either in the Middle East, Africa, or Afghanistan. After I lost my sight, I donated all of my books to a literacy program in the city and switched over to audiobooks, which I carry on my phone. So, I really don’t have much, or need much, beyond my phone, clothes, and computer. I earn a pretty decent living as an author, so the computer is a must.

Well, it’s showtime.

“Gus, find the steps,” I say pointing him in the general direction I want to go.

Gus’s harness pulls taut as he guides me across the sidewalk to the smooth stone steps that lead up to the apartment’s main entrance. One, two, three, four, five steps from the curb to the base of the stairs. I already have that distance memorized. Gus stops when we reach the steps. 

“Gus, find the door.”

One, two, three, four, five, six. Six well-worn stone steps lead up to the front door. I punch in the access code on the electronic keypad to the right of the door and a beep signals success.

I hold the door open for Gus and he precedes me into the building’s small foyer. Shane comes in behind us, conspicuously quiet.

Is this a test? Mentally, I shake my head. If I’m not capable of letting myself into my own apartment building, what the fuck am I good for? Jesus, I used to jump out of airplanes at twenty-thousand feet, free fall until I was just a couple thousand feet above the ground before deploying my chute. If I can’t handle steps and a security keypad on my own, I’m screwed.

Inside the building, it’s cool and quiet, and smells of lemon-scented floor polish.

“The mailboxes are to your left,” Shane says, sounding resigned. “Yours – apartment 2A – is the third box. The staircase is straight ahead. There are two apartments here on the ground floor, and two upstairs.”

My apartment is upstairs, to the left. “Gus, go upstairs.”

Just as we reach the top of the stairs, the door to the apartment on the right opens. I catch a faint whiff of vanilla and peppermint. The jingle of keys tells me someone is locking a door. Then light footsteps head in our direction, eventually coming to an abrupt halt.

“Oh, hi!” a woman says, sounding surprised. “You must be my new neighbor.”

Guided by the sound of her voice, I turn to face her and give her what I hope is a friendly, reassuring smile. Beth tells me that my dark glasses, combined with my ‘imposing’ height and size – her words – make me look intimidating. I certainly don’t want to make a bad first impression on my new neighbor. “Hi. Yes, I’m Jamie McIntyre.”

I offer my hand, and she takes it after a brief hesitation. Her hand feels slight in mine, but her grip is dry and firm, confident. I like that in a woman.

I detect that same combination of vanilla and peppermint. Hand lotion maybe? Shampoo? They’re definitely girly smells, and I mean that in a good way.

“I’m Molly,” she says. “Welcome to the building.”

“Thanks.” I like her voice. She sounds straight-forward, and her voice is warm and smooth. I’d guess her to be around my age, mid-thirties. As she releases my hand, my fingers graze against hers momentarily, just long enough for me to notice faint callouses on her fingers. She must work with her hands. I wonder if she lives here alone, or if she has a family.

“Well, have a nice day.” She skirts around us and heads down the stairs and out the front door.

“Blonde or brunette?” I say.

Shane laughs. “Brunette. Why?”

I shrug. “No reason. I just wondered.” Suddenly, the idea of meeting new people holds a certain appeal. I’ve been so isolated for the past few years, I’ve rarely met anyone new. “Gus, go left. Find the door.”

Twelve steps down the hall to my apartment door.

A moment later, I’ve got the door unlocked, and the three of us step inside. The apartment smells like lemon-scented cleaner and new furniture.

“Well, what do you think?” I say, knowing my brother had better say he liked the decorating since it was his fiancée who picked out the furnishings.

“Nice,” Shane says, sounding sincere.

I elbow him. “Good answer, since it’s all Beth’s doing.”

Shane chuckles. “I figured as much. Don’t worry, she has really good taste.”

“Who has good taste?” Liam says, as he breezes through the open door, a little out of breath. He sets a stack of heavy boxes on the floor.

“Beth does,” I say.

“I don’t know about that,” Liam chides. “She agreed to marry this oaf, didn’t she?”

“Hey, where do you want these?” Jake says, entering the apartment.

“All the boxes are marked,” I say “Three go in the bedroom and the other two go in the office, along with my laptop bag. You can just set everything down here if you want. I’ll put it away later.”

Five boxes. That’s it. That’s all I have in the world.

“Nah,” Jake says, heading for the hallway. “I’ll put the boxes where they belong. You can sort it all out later.”

Liam runs out and returns a few minutes later. “Here you go,” he says, shoving a cardboard carton into my hands. “It’s a house-warming gift.”

“Thanks,” I say, directing Gus to take me to the fridge so I can chill the case of beer. “Now I have all the comforts of home.”

Jake returns to the living room. “You’re all set,” he says. “The boxes are where they belong, and I hung your cane here on a hook beside the door.”

“All right, how about lunch, guys?” Shane says. “I’ve got a little time before I have to get back to the office for a meeting.”

“Sounds good,” Jake says. “I’m starving.”