Love May Be Blind, But So Is Hate

I have to admit, in the beginning I never meant to fall for him. I mean after all, he was the most horrific person I’d ever met. Well, seen. I didn’t know him personally and I didn’t want to. After all the rumors and such I’ve heard about him, well I couldn’t help but think of him in the way everyone else did. It wasn’t my fault that I mistook him, was it? Maybe I had better start from the beginning, which is as good a place as any to start.

My name is Marie Elizabeth Van Pilkington. I grew up in a rather large house not to far from London. I try to think that my family’s wealth took no part in shaping who I grew up to be, but there is no doubt in my mind it had played a bigger part than I’d like to admit. Of course nobody would have ever dared told me if I was acting stuck up or superior, but looking back on my life now I realize that I might not have always acted in a perfectly lady-like and kind manner.

The Daltons, our next door neighbors, were kind and generous people. The Daltons and my parents were the best of friends. They often came over for dinner, but of course, leaving their son at home. There son, well, I never thought to highly of him.

John Thomas Dalton the third was, well somewhat of a rebel. He was born into wealth as I was, but he wasn’t so much of a snob as I was, looking back. He was the talk of the town and all of London knew his name. They knew that he defied his elders, and acted in rebellious ways that earned him a reputation as a “criminal”. When I first heard them, as ludicrous as they were I never thought the rumors about him to be untrue. Everyone thought him a “criminal”, when in actuality he had never engaged in criminal activity at all. Of course being a young girl it never crossed my mind that the gossip I heard and spread as well wasn’t true. He was said to be thief, and even a murderer. He was also said to have compulsive drinking problems, which I assumed explained his odd behavior.

He was a loner. He had no known friends I had ever heard of, and he stayed at home most of the time. He never went to school, but his father was said to tutor him, and a great tutor he must have been, for Mr. Dalton had been a school teacher a few years ago. He never ran errands outside of the house, but you could see him working hard and doing chores, almost any hour of the day if you walked by the Dalton home.

I never met John in person, until I was 21 years old. I had heard about him all my life, but I had never met him face to face until my 21st birthday. My parents had thrown a dinner party with a few of my close friends, but as well as my friends they invited the Daltons. I had said they could, and I thought it would be like it always had been, my parents would have someone to talk to while me and my friends gossiped, they’d comment on how pretty I looked in my new party dress, et cetera. But I was wrong. For the first time ever they didn’t leave their son at home. Although the invitation had said the “Dalton family”, we didn’t mean him as well. Certainly we should have thought they’d leave him home, as they had always done in the past.

“Is that their son?” Clarissa asked, as the family walked into our home. Having him here would ruin my whole party!

“Yes. John, I think,” Mary whispered.

“You invited him to you party?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, no! Well, not exactly…. He can’t be that bad if we get to know him!” I said, in a desperate effort to try and save my party. It was useless. None of my friends would risk sitting at the same table as him. They all left before the party even began, but I didn’t blame them. If it hadn’t been my house, my party, and my guests, I would have left too. I was extremely tempted by the thought, but if I was half the lady I thought I was, leaving wasn’t an option. When dinner was served and we had all sat down my mothers asked me what had become of my friends.

“Oh, well, you see… Clarissa had a stomach ache and the other girls were so kind as to assist back to her house,” I lied. I may not have been the kindest or most polite girl in my youth, but I knew that under some circumstances it was okay to lie. This seemed as good a circumstance as any.

When dinner was over, I excused myself, and ran out to the garden. I threw myself onto my favorite bench and began to weep my selfish tears. After all, my party had been ruined by that stupid oaf. I held my head in my hands, and only looked up when I heard someone walk up and take the seat beside me. It was John. Instant fear ran through me. Would he murder me? Or worse, would someone walked up eager to wish me a happy birthday and find me with him? My reputation would be ruined!

“I’m sorry.” Those were the first words I’d ever heard him speak, and I was surprised that those two words were the first I’d hear from the mouth of someone rumored to be so vile.

“Whatever for?” I asked, almost naturally. How was it I could talk to this person, if he could be described as such, in such a normal way?

“For ruining your party. I know it was me who scared your friends off,” He muttered.

“And whatever gave you that idea?” I asked him, almost feeling bad for him, because he showed his emotion through facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice, so that he seemed like an actually person. Well, I guess he was, but before it had never seemed like it. Well, not that I’d ever met him in person before, but the rumors made him seem so inhuman, so that was all I’d ever known him as, thought in actuality I’d never really known him at all.

“I’m not deaf!” he growled, but you could immediately tell he was sorry for losing control, and mumbled an apology under his breath. He got up to leave.

“Wait!” I shrieked, jumping up and grabbing his arm. My actions surprised even me. He turned to face me. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said.

“But I’m glad you did. I invited your family. That includes you,” I said, and what I said next scared even me. “Your welcome here anytime.” I couldn’t believe that had come out of my mouth.

“You mean that?” he asked me. I took a good look at him. He didn’t look like a murderer to me. His short dirty blonde hair was long enough to nearly cover his left eye. His eyes were a deep blue, and pure. My uncle used to tell me when I was young that eyes were the window to the soul. You could look in someone’s eyes and tell what kind of person there were. If his heart was even half as beautiful as those eyes he was someone I wanted to get to know.

“Yes, I mean it,” I said, but this time it wasn’t just out of instinct. I really did want to see him again.

“Well, if you really want me to come back, maybe I will sometime.” And with that he left.

John came back the next day, and the next and the next. We became more than just good friends. Our relationship evolved over a couple of years from a close friendship, to a romance. I married John at the age of 26. We lived happily ever since.

And although this story had a happy ending I can’t say I’m sure it would have if I had acted differently. If I had treated John the way I had been inclined to, well then this story certainly wouldn’t have ended the way it did. It turned out that almost none of the rumors about him were true. In other people’s eyes he’s still the rebel, and people still love to talk about him. Let them. It doesn’t matter what they think, about me or about him or us. What they say or think won’t change anything. People say that love is blind, but love is the only thing. Hate can be blind, when you hate someone before you know them, because if you really knew them you might not even be able to think of a reason to dislike them. Everybody is always asking what I see in him. But the question I’m always asking is what they don’t see in him. They don’t know him, so they’re blind as to how good a person he is, or how kind and gentle he is. I guess it just goes to show that you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, and that you should always get to know someone before you judge them. Love may be blind, but so is hate.