By Karen Sears   

Dorian surveyed the parlor, silently classifying people—beautiful or ordinary. As he stood in the entryway, he knew all eyes would be gazing in his direction. He was an elegant specimen of a man, blond with piercing blue eyes, porcelain, sculpted features, and a tall, chiseled form. No one could compare to his beauty.

Only one gentleman in the back corner did not look up. This both infuriated and intrigued Dorian. The man sat at a small tea table, staring silently off in no real direction, as if he was ignoring everyone in the room. Perhaps he felt superior to everyone else, to act so aloof. Almost as striking as Dorian himself, the gentleman possessed great physical beauty. The man seemed almost familiar, an unrefined counterpart. Dorian felt the green monster, envy, stir awake, but it quieted as he reassured himself that he stood secure as the most handsome and distinguished man in the room. With that reassurance, Dorian disregarded everyone else, making it his mission to break the arrogant fool.

Dorian strode across the room, careful not to make eye contact and be pulled into any dull, idle conversation. Dorian settled directly in front of the man and reached out his hand. “How do you do, good sir? I see you have the best view in the parlor for today’s frivolities.”

The gentleman made no move to shake Dorian’s hand; he simply turned his gaze past Dorian as if lost in thought. “I am quite well, sir. I wouldn’t know, as I am simply waiting on my wife.”

Dorian felt his anger rise. How dare this man not look him in the eyes?

The gentleman asked, “Would you like to sit while I wait?”

Dorian wanted to slap the ill-mannered man, but instead he bowed slightly and said, “Dorian Gray,” as he pulled out the chair and sat next to him, both men facing the parlor.

“What are you hoping to see today from this advantageous viewing spot?” asked the gentleman.

“Any beauty there may be to behold. It’s an uncommon sight,” answered Dorian.

“Oh, I beg to disagree,” the gentleman rebuffed. “I was thinking this parlor was alive with beauty. The sound of laughter, friends sharing joyous news, the smell of garden roses, the taste of fine wine. They all have their own distinct beauty.”

“I confess that I hadn’t considered those attributes,” Dorian observed dryly, then added, “You certainly have a far-reaching definition of the word. I was alluding to the distinctly extraordinary characteristics of the uncommonly lovely person.” Dorian sat taller knowing he and this gentleman were the most extraordinary examples in the room.

The gentleman replied, “I must say, then, without a moment of hesitation, that my wife is by far the most beautiful creature to walk the earth.”

Dorian looked around. “Where is she? Point her out so I can behold such beauty.”

The gentleman smiled. “You cannot miss her. She shines as if the love inside her were breaking forth and casting a golden light all around her. My Claire is perfectly imperfect, for even her imperfections are beautiful. Her most amazing trait is her ability to see and pull forth beauty from the most unlikely sources. She somehow even taught me to love, and that is the real beauty. I was like you, completely incapable of comprehending true beauty, until I realized there can be nothing beautiful without love.”

Dorian scoffed, “The beauty of which you speak is an illusion. You, sir, are deceiving yourself to think you can find anything real and lasting from love.”

The gentleman took a deep breath. “I think we shall never agree on this point, and that is why I must bid you adieu.”

Just then, a woman approached the table and touched the gentleman softly on the shoulder. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Are you ready to go, my dear?”

Dorian stood abruptly, pushing back his chair. His lip curled as he took in the countenance of an ordinary woman, not at all living up to the grandiose description presented by her husband. Even more insulting, she disregarded him without even a passing glance. How dare she?

Dorian turned to leave. Just as he did, the gentleman reached for a cane propped next to his chair. He ran his hand along its edge until he found the elegantly carved handle. His wife took his arm and led him around the small table. He held his cane out and gave it a clack, clack on the ground. They walked past a shocked Dorian. How had he not noticed the man’s blindness? The gentleman ever so slightly bowed his head, lifted his cane, and used it to tip his hat as he walked past Dorian.

When they were almost out of ear shot, he heard the wife ask her husband, “Dorian, did you enjoy your solitude in the parlor while I was catching up with my friends?”

“I did, my dear. I was just saying good riddance to the man I used to be. Releasing the demons, so to speak.”

They walked away from the Dorian of the past, leaving him in the corner, standing alone, forgotten and fading away as he shouted, “Do not walk away from me! Without me, you’re nothing!”

The gentleman Dorian squeezed his wife’s hand and pondered aloud, “I would never have wished to lose my sight, but whenever I think of who I used to be, I realize it took becoming blind to finally see.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Karen Sears lives with her incredibly supportive husband, their trail dog, Ruby, and two semi-domesticated cats, Pearl and Onyx. She enjoys exploring running trails, backpacking in the mountains, the promise each sunrise brings and winning at Scrabble. An avid reader and lifelong lover of books, this marks her first foray into the world of writing-may it be a long and beautiful adventure!