Love Blind (21 page)

◊ ◊ ◊

It took me three days before I finally opened the note from Kyle that was attached to the present I didn't deserve. I told myself I was waiting for Christmas, but that was BS. Lying to myself was sort of pointless and stupid.

I FEEL LIKE AN ASS WRITING HUGE, BUT . . . WELL, SORRY.

SO YOU TAP YOUR JEANS WITH YOUR HANDS, AND I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO ASK YOU IF YOU HEAR MUSIC ALL THE TIME, WHICH I THINK YOU DO.

I SAW THESE GLASSES ON JOHN LENNON, AND THEY STUCK WITH ME (I DON'T KNOW WHY) AND I KNEW YOU HAD TO HAVE THEM. IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO FIND A PLACE ONLINE THAT SOLD THEM, AND I TALKED WITH YOUR MOMS (HOPE THAT'S OKAY) ABOUT THEM PUTTING YOUR SCRIP IN AND . . . THAT'S IT.

KYLE

Wow. Kyle.
I pulled out the glasses, and they were awesome masculine sixties nerdy-cool and perfect. And he'd had to search for them. And he'd talked to the moms. It was . . . a lot.

Then I thought about his mom, and how crazy his whole situation was, and how I felt like an ass for barging in there like that. And I didn't know what to do with a guy who wasn't just self–fucked up, or situation-with-Pavel fucked up, but his whole life was fucked up. And he'd bought me glasses, and talked to the moms . . . and I knew my brain kept
spinning back to the same things, but it all felt . . .

Intrusive. I'd thought he was close to saying,
Hailey, I might be interested in you
, when we sat on his bed together. I'd felt it, the hitched breath and the lean in, but maybe I'd imagined it all. Because he didn't say it.

And why would he when I obviously reminded him of his mom and how she spoke to him and pushed him, and holy shit, I was
such
an asshole.

It didn't matter anyway, because he had Mariah's number, and he'd smiled over it, which had answered any questions I'd had before giving it to him. And I was taking the year off of guys. Even if Kyle was a good enough guy to put up with me. I didn't want Kyle to
put up with me
if we were together.

I thought about him holding me the way Chaz had. Only it would be so different. So much better.

No.

I had to remind myself that Kyle had taken the number. Would probably use it. I'd been an asshole, and he deserved better. Probably should have some time without me dominating his life, pushing his decisions, and telling him what he should do next. My throat swelled.

No. No.
I wasn't doing this achy feeling. Was not.

◊ ◊ ◊

I went to see Kyle before school, knowing where I'd find him. Radio station.

“We should take a break,” I said the second I made it through the door.

He stood up so fast his chair spun behind him.

My heart flipped. Damn, I wanted him. I couldn't, but I did. Screw our timing. Always off. Always not quite there. I had to make myself better. He had to gather the courage to call Mariah. We had things to do.

“What . . . what are you talking about?”

I shook my head. “You should work on your list on your own. It's not my place to interfere.”

He swiped his hand over his forehead, slicking back his hair. “Uh . . . you're not interfering.”

But he glanced at the floor.

“So you do your thing, and I'll do my thing, and I guess . . . I guess we'll report to each other when we do.”

And then I ran away like a coward because I hated how I might have treated Kyle and I didn't know how to apologize to him. It would be good for him anyway, I thought. He was too invested in me. I was too invested in him. We weren't ready. I hadn't crossed anything off my list since dinner for my moms. I had to get back in control.

◊ ◊ ◊

I found the chairs at my eye doctor to be suffocating—almost every time. My chin perched on the rest as Dr. Ricks flipped the little glass circles in front of me to try and force my eyes to see the letters projected onto the wall.

He should have known better.

“Can you read that one?” He tried to sound all official and
detached, but I'd seen him for too long and heard the strain in his voice. We'd been playing around with this for a while. Switch lenses, click, add another lens, click. Close to twenty minutes now.

“Uh . . . we're down to one letter, which means it's the
E
.” I sighed and sat back.

Then it was his turn to sigh. His impatient look didn't match his overly neat exterior, tidy haircut, and abnormally large smile. “Sit back up. And I'll ask you about details, okay?”

Once again I rested my chin and stared at the single letter projected on the wall.

“Can you see the openings on the right side of the
E
? Or do those lines blur together?”

I blinked back my frustration, and knew I wasn't going to last much longer. As much as I tried to be relaxed, it wasn't going to work. My lungs were heavier with each breath, and I was using every trick I knew to hold back my tears. I paused, squinted, and tried to make that
E
look like an
E
. Everyone can read the biggest letter.
Everyone
. “Blurry enough that the ends sort of touch, but I still see the
E
.”
Or my brain is filling in.

“Okay.” His forced smile looked painted on. “Thanks, Hailey. I'm done torturing you for today.”

“No glaucoma test?” I asked. “No fun puffs of air?”

He shrugged. “Your eyes aren't bothering you, and you came in for one two months ago. Also, you give Kim a hard time for not controlling the tonometer when she has no control over it.”

Then it was my turn to shrug. Getting your eyeball hit with air mostly unexpectedly had been known to unleash my varied vocabulary.

“I'm worried the most about the macular degeneration. You, my dear, have the eyes of a ninety-six-year-old.” Same stuff he always said. Old-person eyes. Over and over. He leaned against the counter while on his tiny doctor stool—probably trying to look more relaxed than he was. I was a pro at that move.

“And still I have curfew.” I threw a glare in the direction of the moms because it was easier to joke with them than to once again let the reality of my situation sink in.

A corner of his mouth pulled up in something that looked a little more genuine. “We're hoping we won't have to do anything to address your glaucoma for a while.”

I nodded, relieved. Laser surgery to relieve pressure was about as fun as it sounded. I wasn't sure how long “a while” was, and in that moment, I didn't care. The appointment felt over, and I wanted home.

Lila handed me my glasses as we left the room together.

But even the moms were frowning as they talked with Dr. Ricks on our way to the front counter. Since I was ready to leave, and knew no one would be lasering my eyes anytime soon, I disengaged.

They were talking numbers, and changed prescriptions, and big glaucoma check, and how my eyes could possibly be
so bad, so young, and that it was really difficult not having any genetic history because my birth mother had dropped me and run, and everyone was all politely discussing my future. All I could hear was
blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
.

And there were people walking around in the waiting room, trying on frames and smiling, and talking when I felt like I'd taken another huge dive toward being black-blind.

It all shook me too hard in places that were too deep for me to lock away. Not again. I could feel that aching start to take over, suck me in, pull me under, and all I knew was that I had to be home before it happened.

I grabbed one of the moms' hands and dragged her toward the door. Her arm came over my shoulder as we stepped into the light and air, only one of which would matter to me soon. Too soon.

“It's okay, Hailey,” Lila said. “We're talking way in the future here. New developments are happening all the time, and people are working toward—”

“Don't,” I snapped. “Just. Don't.”

I climbed into the back of the Escort and wrapped my arms around my stomach. I hated that they volleyed from sending me to blind classes, to telling me it would never happen. And then here—how could anyone say I was lucky to see when it might not last all that long?

Home. All I could think was how I had to get home. Wanted to crawl into my bed and ignore the world. Had to.

◊ ◊ ◊

Kyle stepped into my room and froze. I'd barely seen him for a month. The moms must have called. Or maybe he'd just stopped by. I'd taken my glasses off, so I couldn't see his face, but he was very still, and probably staring.

“You're right. I hear music almost all the time.” I sniffed, which I hated because, aside from the obvious fact that I'd mummified myself in my bed, it showed a weakness I didn't want to deal with. And Kyle was standing there like the best friend I'd ever had. I needed to give him something else. “I'll be better. Treat you better. Different from your mom. The glasses were perfect.”

“Oh.” He took another step toward me. Still stiff. Only half back out of Mumble Kyle.

“You remember this blanket fixes everything,” I said as I pulled it more tightly around me.

“Really?”

“No. It doesn't fix jack, which really sucks.” I pulled it even tighter, but a blanket wasn't going to solve anything. I knew this, and still the more I pulled without my chest loosening up, the harder I tugged on the thing. Desperate for two totally unconnected acts to make me better. Less pathetic.

“You look small.”

“Your voice is small, and it shouldn't be.” I didn't even know if it made sense, but Kyle should have a huge voice. Huge. And he didn't.

“You usually fill a room, but now it's like you've been swallowed.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“There's a poet in there, Kyle,” I said through my tears. “I hope this isn't your bullshit way of trying to make me feel better.”

“No.” But his voice was so quiet I barely heard.

Another sob hit me, which I hated, which I knew would lead to more, which I knew was going to make Kyle freak out.

Only he didn't freak out. He sat on my bed, and pulled me into him, crazy wrapped-up blanket and all. I breathed in his citrus and let my face rest on his chest as my body shook.

And then I started talking, and it all came out. All the ridiculous stuff, some of which he knew, but I said it again anyway, and all the real stuff, and all the stuff I tried not to think about when the rest of the world was too quiet to drown it out.

How I wouldn't be able to see the moms' faces anymore. How when I met people, I wouldn't know where to look. That I knew how to fold my money because one day I wouldn't know the difference between a one and a twenty if I didn't fold them the right way.

I hated dogs. I didn't want to walk around with a smelly dog to gain a little independence.

That maybe I'd marry some guy I'd never even seen. And if I ever decided I liked kids, I might not get to see my own.

Kyle didn't give me any of the bullshit that the moms did. He held me. Crushed me into his chest until my inability to
breathe came from Kyle instead of my crazy. Because he knew me well enough to know that's what I needed.

I'd missed him.

I had to find a better word for him than “friend.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Lila let me stay home from school the next day.

“Sometimes when you drain that much energy,” she'd said, “you need a break.”

Which I did and I didn't. Because after Kyle, I kinda felt okay.

Also, Lila's ideas to “replenish my energy” always had to do with me following her to the yoga studio for her afternoon class.

The yoga studio was familiar and the lighting was good, the walls pale, and I for sure could have walked the place with a blindfold on. I waited outside Lila's office for her to make a few phone calls.

A girl in black yoga wear and lime-green hair walked around the corner and smiled. “You've got to be Hailey. Lila talks about you all the time.”

Oh, great.
“Sounds like her.”

“I'm Annalise.”

Her name had probably been mentioned over dinner or something, but it wasn't coming to me.

“Lila is so amazing. I've never met anyone with her strength and flexibility. I'm learning a lot.”

Lila would never allow the kind of chemicals that could
create green hair in our house. I liked Annalise immediately.

“So you work here?” I asked.

“I'm about finished with my certificate to be an official teacher, and then I'm hoping for a job. Lila lets me teach once in a while, so sticking around here would be pretty ideal.”

“How old are you, anyway?” I wanted to pick out more facial features, but all I knew was that she was small with big cheekbones.

“Twenty.”

Twenty. Twenty sounded like a great age. No more high school, but you still got to hide under the mask of college or being young or whatever, so you could probably get away with doing a lot of stupid crap.

“No college?” I asked.

Annalise frowned. “When you have broke parents, and no money yourself, college loans are pretty intimidating. Anyway, who wouldn't want to do this all day?”

Me. But at least I could appreciate it.

“Must be awesome growing up with two moms.” She leaned against the wall.

I laughed. Hard.

Lila's hand touched my shoulder. “This is my stretch-and-relax class. Come on.” It wasn't a
you should come
kind of “come on,” it was a
you're coming
.

I widened my eyes in exasperation at Annalise. “Yeah, see? It's awesome.”

She smiled back as I was
gently led away
by my mom, who was determined to help me stretch away my fear of blindness.