Diamond Eyes (17 page)

‘How? You’re not a doctor. Besides, I already begged for an eye transplant or a lens transplant, but they told me I’m not eligible because of my Fragile X syndrome.’

‘Perhaps they didn’t want to get your hopes up. Your file says it’s because there hasn’t been a suitable

donor yet. Sounds like a bit of both, but this problem with your blindfold isn’t so difficult. I can authorise a generous supply of sticky bandage circles to help keep your eyes closed whenever — and for as long as — you wish when we get back.’

‘You can do that?’

‘I’ll give you those sunglasses to help keep the strongest light off the bandages as well, if you want.’

‘I don’t understand.’ She dropped her hands from her eyes and turned her face into the playful sea breeze. ‘How can you authorise blindfolds and sunglasses for me now, when they’ve refused to let me have them all these years?’

‘Beats me. I was only employed recently by the new matron. Many things are changing, though, Mira. Sometimes it seems like the whole world’s changing and we’re all just trying to adapt. You’re lucky in a way, because you’ve got someone who’s paid to find strategies and activities to help you learn to cope with your disability. And I’m lucky, because that someone is me. So I can authorise anything it takes, within reason, to help you achieve independence.’

‘I don’t get it. How does that make you lucky?’

‘Two words: job satisfaction. I get to prove to myself that my life can finally mean something, and, as a bonus, I get to hog all of your delightful appreciation to myself.’

‘Does that mean the other staff have to obey your orders too? Even your supervisors?’

Ben nodded, then realised how silly he must look using body language to a blind girl. ‘They surely do. In fact, if I think you’ll learn to cope with your disability faster by having my supervisors deliver your breakfast while hopping, singing and stinging themselves with their own Tasers, they’ll have to do that too.’

Mira giggled. ‘I’d certainly like to hear that!’

‘Later, though, when you’re used to coping with bandages, you’ll have to try opening your eyes more often — at your own pace, when you feel completely safe — and teach yourself to cope with the extra information. Are you okay with that?’

‘Maybe. Will you always be this kind to me? Or do you have a dark side that you just manage to hide better than anyone else? Maybe you keep it just for your bad days?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, Mira, trust me. This
is
me on a bad day. So how about it? Shall I fetch my first-aid kit?’

Mira replayed his answer over again in her head, listening for any hint of a lie, but heard only the deep resonance of truth and honesty.

Slowly, timidly, fighting down a rising fear of the pain, she extended her hand to him, and he took it.

F
reddie crept behind the reception counter, careful to ensure that nobody had seen him enter the administration building.

From the plastic-wrapped telephone, he removed just enough duct tape from the receiver to be able to speak into it, then keyed the number for call-connect and asked to speak to the minister for police.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ replied a young woman a few moments later. ‘She’s in Parliament today. Perhaps someone else can look into the matter for you? Or may I take a message?’

‘Urgently?’

‘Your message will be processed within seconds, sir, I assure you.’

‘Okay, please tell her that Bennet Chiron rang from the Serenity Centre on Likiba Isle. Have you got that?’

She repeated his message, then: ‘May I ask what it’s regarding, sir?’

‘I was getting to that. It’s about Mira Chambers; the new blind girl? The ransom I want is now half a million.’

He slammed down the phone and fled back to his secret hideaway, knowing that if
that
didn’t bring her safely back in time, nothing would!

M
ira sat as still as she could manage on the nose of Ben’s car. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his gentle touch as he pulled out each stitch, but the pain was too much. She clenched her teeth and tried not to flinch.

‘Bet you wish you had your sedatives now,’ he said.

‘It’s not as bad as it was getting them.’

‘So why did you?’

‘I told you I’d reached my limits. Ten years of delusions. Please talk about something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘Anything. Like how old are you?’

‘Thirty-two.’

‘That’s odd.’ She scratched her brow. ‘You sound older.’

‘Forced confinement does that to everyone, even you. Two to go,’ he warned as he soaked a stitch-hole with a tissue. ‘Do you need a break?’

‘No, please hurry.’

‘We’ve still got forty minutes before we have to leave.’

She didn’t argue. She didn’t want him to see how much he was hurting her, but tears welled in her eyes and the salt made the pain worse. She could feel every twist in the thread as he pulled out the last two of Freddie’s sutures.

‘Pus in this one.’

She felt a burst of pressure relief, then a trickle of fluid on her cheek.

‘Keep them closed a bit longer,’ he said, touching a tissue to her face again to clean her up. ‘I can’t use antiseptic cream inside your eyelids, but I’ve got some vials of saline solution.’

She heard him fumbling through his first-aid kit. Then he cupped the whole left side of her face in his large, rough-skinned hand.

‘Lean against me, Mira. I need to tip your head over quite a bit so I can flush out your eyes one at a time. That’s it,’ he added as she obliged. ‘Now hold it there. This is probably going to sting, I’m sorry.’

The first drop touched her eyelid and burned like acid. She flinched, then felt a thicker stream of water that burned and felt cool at the same time.

‘We’re lucky,’ he said, gently wiping off the excess and tipping her head over the other way. ‘There was an infection starting on the inside of that lid — hidden where we couldn’t see it — but it looks as if we got to it in time. Thank goodness your meds were increased to include antibiotics as soon as they found you, hey? Or that could have been really nasty.’

Mira didn’t know which she hated most: the fact that someone else had the power to force drugs into her body, the burning sensation in her eye now, or the knowledge that the other eye was about to undergo the same treatment. Still, she managed to choke down her cries.

‘On this momentous occasion,’ Ben said cheerily, wiping off the excess again, ‘you deserve a drum-roll.’

Mira heard his hands begin to beat continuously against the car on either side of her hips, like rolling thunder.

‘When you’re ready,’ he said, ‘try to open your eyes.’

She did, ever so slowly, and the familiar blue fog consumed her field of vision.

‘Oh my! Your eyes, they’re —’

‘Really hurting!’ She squinted, trying to lessen the pain.

‘They’re mesmerising, Mira! I’ve never seen anything so —’

‘Freakish, I know. That’s what everyone says.’

‘I wasn’t going to say that. I’m not really sure how to describe them. They’re so. beautiful. Like diamonds, I suppose, or frozen water. But each facet is mirrored! I can see dozens of tiny reflections of myself.’

‘You’re mad, Ben. My eyes scare everyone away. Why else do you think my father stopped sending me to school?’

‘Their loss. I think your eyes are amazing! I think
you’re
amazing, Mira. I never could have stayed so quiet while someone pulled stitches out of me. I’d have been blubbing like a baby. And I’d have died of starvation in a week if I’d been forced to live here alone as a child. But you did it with your eyes closed, so to speak.’

‘No, I didn’t. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. The blue fog lets me see lots of things.’

‘Like what? What can you see now?’

‘Everything is the same as the day I left. It’s all blue.’

‘Even me?’

‘No, silly, not you.’ She clasped both hands gently around his face and explored his thick brow, solid nose and prickly goatee with her fingers. ‘You’re still invisible.’

‘Well, what
can
you see?’

‘The trees. The sky. The bay. It’s a beautiful afternoon.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion. I think we could be in for another sun shower.’

‘Not as far as I can see. There’s barely a cloud in the sky.’

‘What about ghosts? Can you see any? Are you scared?’

‘No.’ She glanced around. ‘And no. We’re completely alone.’

‘I thought you said they were everywhere?’

‘Not at this time of day. They mostly live over the hill, near the old church.’

‘Okay, so what about my car? Can you see which end you’re sitting on?’

‘The front. But I can’t see it. I felt it before you lifted me up here. It’s invisible like you.’

‘You mean you’re sitting in midair?’

She nodded and shifted over the edge a little more until she could feel the ground with her feet.

‘Can you see your own hands?’

‘Not exactly, but.’ She raised both hands in front of her face and drew them slowly closer until her fingers were flat over her eyes. ‘I can see blotches of nothing where my hands are, a lot like the foggy darkness I see when I close my eyes, but much blurrier and in the rough shape of my hands instead of the shape of eyelids.’

‘That must be extremely confusing.’

‘Actually, it’s how I know for sure that I’m real. My skin is an almost-visible shell that keeps me whole. Sometimes, when I’m only half-sedated, I feel like I could dissolve into empty air.’

He stayed silent for a long moment, and she became more intensely aware of the warmth radiating from his body, his gentle breathing and his heartbeat, all still very close to her.

‘How about this?’ he asked.

She sensed his left hand shift away from near her hip.

‘You’re holding fingers up, very close to my face. I can’t see them, but I heard your hand move. I can smell your skin and feel my breath bouncing back at me, and I can see the foggy background in the gaps of nothingness in between each of your fingers.’

‘How many fingers?’

Mira shrugged. ‘Two or three. They’re too blurry to tell.’

‘Sounds like you’ve been drinking.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s a wonder you can see well enough to walk straight.’

‘All right, Mr Disbeliever. Watch this.’

She placed a foot either side of the Y-shaped root without having to fumble first to find it, then skipped a zigzagging pattern either side of it all the way to the tree — and instead of bumping into the trunk this time, she scrambled all the way to the top and swung upside down from the railing like a monkey.

She grinned, feeling giddy with independence. ‘What do you have to say now, Mr Invisible?’

‘I’m speechless. Were you having me on before, pretending to trip over things?’

‘I never trip on purpose. I told you, I
hate
tripping! Come on up again.’ Her grin broadened as she swung off the railing onto the platform. ‘Let me prove that I know my way around.’

‘Okay, but give me two seconds to put the first-aid kit away. On second thoughts.’

‘We won’t need it.’

Mira heard a brief shuffling sound, followed by a rattle and slam. Habit made her worry what he might really be up to if not putting the first-aid kit away.

It’s Ben,
she reminded herself.
He brought me here.

She turned away from the sounds and rubbed her eyes, feeling the burning sensation lingering in the corners near her tear ducts. The familiar older pain was growing stronger, as if moisture was being sucked out of her eyes through hollow hot needles.
Don’t let him see it’s hurting more now,
she thought.

‘I’m here,’ he said, startling her. ‘What do you want to show me?’

Mira turned away from the placid waters of Halls Bay and faced inland. ‘See the mountain range on that far horizon?’

‘Yes. What about it?’

‘Stand here at the railing and give me your hand.’

He obeyed, and she fumbled around behind him.

‘Kneel down. I want to show you something, but your eyes and mine have to be at the same level.’

Again he obeyed, and she crouched behind him, resting her chin over his right shoulder.

‘Now point your finger and let me control it.’

‘You’re not going to stick it up my nose?’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

Mira repositioned her hand so it was clasped around his; her small hand leaning over his shoulder to control his hand with her own pointer finger hugged parallel against his. But as she extended their arms together, trying to point him in the direction of the northernmost edge of the mountain range where the land met the bay, she discovered the difficulty in guiding an arm that was much longer and heavier than her own.

‘Try this,’ he said, standing up and bringing her around in front of him. He rested his chin on her shoulder and raised his arm alongside hers, once again releasing control to her. ‘How’s this?’ he asked, cheek to cheek.

‘Weird,’ she confessed, fidgeting at the heat of his proximity. ‘The only time anyone gets this close is when they’re forcing a needle into me.’

‘Frisk me,’ he said playfully. ‘No needle.’

She shifted her feet nervously for a moment, then traced her finger along the horizon, leading his with hers as she followed every jagged peak, gorge and plateau for a panorama of a hundred and eighty degrees until she reached an outcrop of tall trees and the flat water where the bay mouth met the ocean to the south.

‘Wow, that’s a great trick. Can you do it again the other way?’

She grinned and manoeuvred his hand back in the other direction.

‘That’s —’

‘Amazing?’ She laughed. ‘You use that word a lot, you know.’

‘Yes.’ He laughed too and turned his cheek closer to her. ‘I realised this morning during our chess and music activities that you have a brilliant memory for details. And you’re innovative too. I’ve never heard Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” played on a guitar before, but...’

‘My mother taught me lots of classics.’

‘Yes, you told me this morning, but this, Mira? This is astonishing! I know for a fact that you’ve been stuck inside institutions for over a decade, yet how can this latest trick be anything but memory?’