Page 6 of Sight Unseen

My mother cackled. Bernadette Fisher aka Moondust Petal made a sound like a dying hen. “Yeah, and hippies don’t shit in the woods. You’ve loved that boy since you were a teen, and some days I thought he felt the same ’bout you. I never understood why you didn’t end up a couple. It’s one of the great mysteries of the universe, along with how to tie-dye a damn shirt, ’cause you know I never managed to get that right.”

My mom’s efforts at creating funky clothing had backfired spectacularly more than once, and she’d ended up blasting several people anywhere in the vicinity of her experiments with neon splashes of dye. Dad had banned her from doing it ever again after his mustache had turned bright pink.

“He has Jon,” I muttered as I thrummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “And like I said, we’re only friends.”

“You go on telling everyone that. Some of us know the truth. Some of us can smell it.” I knew she’d be tapping a finger alongside her nose as she said that. “The thing is, Jon boy isn’t going to cope with Nate if he’s going to be truly blind, mark my words. Jon is an attention whore. He likes to be looked at and appreciated, and who’s going to do the looking now? That Caleb fella is who. Not our Nate.”

“You make their relationship sound so shallow, Mom. I’m sure it’s not like that.” My gut roiled as I saw the wisdom of my mother’s words. Jon was narcissistic and needy, but in his own way, surely he loved Nate. I couldn’t believe he’d be so superficial that he’d give up Nate because he couldn’t see his lover, pay him a compliment or enjoy the visual world with him. Even Jon couldn’t be that callous.

“Cody, my child, I say it like I see it. Maybe I’m wrong. Time will tell.” Her voice grew fierce. “Did that no-good family of Nate’s say anything about his accident? I’m guessing not. Those people were always poison. I’m surprised someone as good as Nate came from them.”

“Jon called them but they didn’t care. Anyway, you know we’re his family, and have been for years.”

My mother sighed. “I’ll never understand how parents can throw away a child. It’s got to be the biggest sin in my book.” Her tone grew brisk. “Anyway, I can hear that engine of yours running, polluting the atmosphere and sending all those nasty gases into the ether. I’ll let you get home to ponder my words. All I’m saying is maybe it’s time to tell Nate how you really feel and let him decide who he spends his time with.”

I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “Love you, Mom. Say hi to dad for me and try not to kill each other on the drive down.”

My car ate up the miles toward my home in Long Beach as I thought about what my mom had said. Her words fizzled in my gut and caused a welcome warmth to flood my body with hope.

My biggest fear was telling Nate how I felt about him and risk losing his friendship. It was why I’d never done it before, especially after what went down in the Keys.

Sometimes, your feelings were worth keeping to yourself.

Chapter 3

Nate

Flashes of luminescence and gray, followed by darkness, with occasional random shapes that flitted in and out of sight but I knew were nothing tangible. This was what remained of my vision.

I’d once spent Christmas in Norway during the mørketiden—the dark time—and I’d loved every minute. The quaintness of the Norwegian winter had been exciting. The novelty of spending time without bright sunlight, watching the twinkling of the Christmas lights as they shone against the black depths of the town had delighted me. As a born-and-bred Southern Californian used to the endless summer of Los Angeles, the contrast had been startling.

This darkness, I hated.

And now, sitting in my hospital room waiting for Jon to take me to the home we’d shared for the past year, I stared fixedly at where I knew the hospital room door was and saw only the dark light. I’d never see the Norwegian twinkling fairy lights again; I’d never see the face of my lover as he came. Never see the sun rise over the mountains.

How in hell’s name do I do this? How do I just go home and accept what’s happened to me?

The lead butterflies in my stomach battered my insides, flying to the beat of the erratic pounding in my chest.

I’d had a panic attack a few days ago, scaring the shit out of Jon, who called out to the nurses’ desk for help. The fear I’d heard in his voice as he’d held my shoulders down, trying to comfort me, was almost as scary as the meltdown. When the nurses ran in, they shooed him away as they tried to get me under control. He’d given up by the time they were administering a sedative. To one of the nurses, he’d said, “I’ll be outside. Let me know when he calms down.”

The last time Cody had visited, I’d had another attack. Except Cody hadn’t called for help, he hadn’t moved away, he hadn’t given up. He’d wrapped me in his strong arms and murmured words of comfort as I struggled to push him away. He’d cursed at me, insisted that I let him help, vowing that he wasn’t going anywhere and that I had to shut up and accept it. Finally, I’d settled, and he’d sat with me on the bed until I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep.

And he’d been there when I had woken up.

His ferocity reminded me of that passion-filled weekend we’d spent in the Keys so many years ago. Even though our sex had been all youthful lust, and heat, his loyalty and intensity were apparent even then. And yet we were doomed before we’d even begun. My father made sure the consequences would have been catastrophic for Cody and his family.

I didn’t fight him then, or later. And that decision to allow my father to cow me followed me into adulthood and shaped the man I was today.

Now something so far out of my control that no amount of fight could change would shape my life, and I wondered if I had the strength to find my way through.

These last two weeks, waking up to the endless barrage of tests, murmured platitudes, compassionate voices and visits from psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers, had been hell. I’d been scanned, re-scanned, soothed, counseled and comforted. The bottom line: I was blind and I had to face the rest of my life in darkness.

There was no hope, no miracle cure.

My life is fucked.

Although I knew it could be worse, I could be dead—the time spent in hospital had brought that home and given me time to reflect on the fact that I’d been given a second chance, even with my sight loss—still, I couldn’t wrap my mind around how I would go on.