P R O L O G U E
P R O L O G U E
I knew I wasn’t always blind, I knew that I was blinded in a fireworks incident, and I knew that it was the same one that had killed my mother. That’s all I could tell you, I don’t remember anyone who was there, I don’t remember much from that time, only the basics, the alphabet-which I had just started learning in kindergarten- colors-man had I been obsessed with different combinations of them-and the way I looked, which had more than likely changed by now.
The only thing I’ve seen for the past 8 years is black. I haven’t seen myself, or the things I do, the places I go, or the people I meet, it’s only a screen of black. Like when you wear a sleeping mask, or have someone’s hand cover your eyes so you can’t see anything, that’s how I live. Sometimes I have vivid flashbacks of colors, but only in dreams and my imagination, never in real life.
It’s hard to remember much about life before the accident. The thought of being normal crosses my mind occasionally but is quickly dismissed. I remember having two older brothers-James and Michael-whom both looked quite similarly to each other both having blond hair and blue eyes. Then there was Dad-whom I don’t even refer to as ‘Dad’ anymore, now I just call him David. He had black hair, and me nor my brothers looked at all like him besides our soft blue eyes. And then there was Mom, who died the same night I had been blind. She was always an inspiration to me, she would design clothes and I remember she would even sew them for me sometimes. She was also one of the prettiest people I knew, blond hair and green eyes which I was always jealous of.
The first memory I have is in the Periwinkle School For the Visually Disabled, or as most called it, PSVD. Ms. Matilda-my helper-had just finished helping me change into my clothes for the day-a pair of pants and a t-shirt-when she had told me that I ‘looked beautiful’, and my curiosity getting the best of me caused me to ask her ‘what do I look like?’
And she described what I looked like. Now, even though that was about six years ago, I still remember exactly what she said, “You have blonde hair that starts kind of dark at the top, but then fades into a light color, and it has a little wave to it, and your face has some light colored freckles across it, and your skin is slightly tanned, and those eyes of yours-any sane person would kill for those colored eyes, they’re blue, with flecks of gray outlining the pupil.”
Since then, I had created images of what she had described in my mind, everyday I would sit and play the guessing game of what the things around me looked like, most of the time it would get a little bit too fantasy oriented, and I would picture being in a huge castle, with gold statues and huge spiral stairs, and everyone with food served on shining gold platters. In my head I would always try to incorporate some things I had remembered about my old house though, just for the comfort.
When I turned 6, I finally realized that my family hadn’t cared about me, because I was the only one in probably the history of PSVD that didn’t have family or friends come to see me on visiting days.
My family only paid the bills, never once did I have them come in and see how I was doing, or say ‘hi’ to me, or bring me cookies from the outside. Not like the other patients parents or family, or even friends would do for them, but, I had none of those things.
By the time I was seven, I could fluently read in braille, and that’s how I chose to spend my free time. Sitting on my bed with whatever new book Ms. Matilda had recommended me.
Those eight years were like one, long, black, downhill spiral. Until visiting day on my 13th birthday.
I was sitting cross legged on my bed, a braille lettered book in front of me. My fingers ran across the page, wanting to consume every word on each page.
There was a knock on my door, “Thalia,” Ms. Matilda said in her sing-song voice, “You have a visitor!” Visitor? I never got visitors. Who could have possibly come? “Thalia?” She asked again, her sing-song voice disappearing and converting to her normal one.
“U-Um, Come in!” I shouted back, still disoriented, I heard the loud creak of the door opening. “Who is it?” I asked, still facing my head toward the same direction.
“Do you remember me?” Said another voice, this one was deep, like a male’s voice, but to be completely honest, I didn’t know of any male who would visit me. Unless...No, he wouldn’t.
“Um, if you haven’t noticed I’m kind of blind.” I snapped, I’m not sure why I did, but that’s just the way my voice came out.
“Thalia!” Ms. Matilda reprimanded
“Just stating the obvious,” I mumbled in response, slamming my book shut and feeling my way next to me to set it down, then I let my hands drop into my lap.
“Thali-” Ms. Matilda started, but she was cut off my the male voice.
“T-that’s okay, I-I kind of deserved that.” I could hear Ms. Matilda let out a sigh, and a warm calloused hand was placed on my knee, causing me to flinch and tense back.
“W-who are you?” I questioned frantically, shaking my head left and right frantically as if I could see who was in front of me.
“It’s me,” There was a pause and a sigh, and the hand was lifted from my knee, “Michael, your brother.”
Apparently he would. I didn’t even need to let those words sink in, I already knew what he was going on about. “You don’t have the right to call yourself that.” I growled, not believing the nerve of this guy for coming in after eleven years of being MIA and thinking I’ll love him like a real brother. Dream on.
“I know,” His voice sounded heavy with regret “But, I want to make it up to you. Or at least try.”
“Go away.” I pointed to the direction the door was in, which was on my right since the wall the side of my twin bed was on, was on my left side, “That’s how you can make it up to me.”
“Thals, I-” I stopped him short, letting my arm fall to my side.
“Only my friends call me that, It’s Thalia to you.” I made a point to emphasise the word ‘friends’ to make sure he got the memo that he was not wanted and that he could go to hell for all I cared.
“Thalia,” He started again “I know that you don’t like me now-”
“And never will.” I added bluntly
I heard Michael sigh, but he started again as if he had never been interrupted “but, I found something that might give you the ability to see again.”
“I don’t care can you jus-” and then I comprehended his proposition, “What?” I asked, dumbfounded
“It’s a surgery, and they replace the damaged nerve cells in your eyes and there’s a 50% chance you’ll be able to see again. A-and, even after that, you don’t have to like me and we can figure out a way for you to live with someone else, but,” There was a pause, and I could just smell the steam from his thoughts invade my lungs. “I just want to try and give you the best life you can have from this point on.”
I hesitated, “B-but what if it doesn’t work?”
“If it doesn’t work, then at least you know we tried, and we can find another way. And I’ll keep finding new ways until you can see again. Cuz that’s what family does.”
“Don’t go on about family, you don’t know shit about that word.”
“Maybe not, but, if you let me answer some questions, I can tell you that I never forgot about you for even a second. Please. Just give me a chance.”
I pursed my lips, an old habit of mine, before making up my mind, “Why didn’t you ever come and see me?” I needed answers, and there was no better way to do that then to ask one of those involved.
“What?” Michael sounded taken aback, “That’s a long s-”
“I have time,” I interfered
“You see-”
“If you give me these answers, I’ll-I’ll for sure do that procedure. Deal?” I blindly held out my right hand in front of me.
“Deal,” Michaels hand clasped mine, and we shook them before I retracted mine and put it in my lap again.
I felt the weight on the bed shift beside me, and so I scooted myself closer to the wall until I could feel the coldness of it radiate against my skin, and to prevent having to put a jacket on, I moved so that my back leaned against it.
“Where are you?” I asked so that I could at least look in his direction.
“Right here,” His hand lightly pressed on my cheek, guiding my face over to the right ever so slightly
“Why didn’t you ever come to see me?” I asked, this time not wanting to waste a second.
“Well, Let me start at the beginning,” I heard another sigh “About a year or two after you came here, Dad started going out with another woman. She was really nice, and not even a year later they were engaged and we moved into a house with her and her sons. Me and James-you remember him right?” I slightly nodded my head, Ms. Matilda having told me both my brothers names before, “Well, there wasn’t a day to go by that we wouldn’t ask Dad to take us to see you, but he was always ‘too busy’ and would wave us off.
What we didn’t know, was that the real reason we didn’t come here, was because Dad had never even planned to tell Charlotte-our step-mom- about you. He figured if he kept these bills seperate from their shared ones, that she wouldn’t be able to find out about you.”
“So my own father didn’t want me?” tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, I could tell because there seemed to be a slight sting behind my eyes.
“I don’t th-”
“Don’t even try to stand up for him!” I snapped, the feeling of threatening tears disappearing immediately. “You don’t even know how hard it was to be the only person here who didn’t have someone come to visit her! Do you know how many visiting days I would sit here and read while others got to talk to their families!”
I felt a warm tear drip down my cheek, and reached up to wipe it away, making sure to-before I let my hand fall back into my lap-wipe the bottom of my eyes to stop any tears starting to form.
“I’m really sorry Thalia.” That was all Michael said as I felt his arm drape over my shoulders. It was a weird form of physical affection, but no one had ever been this nice to me except Ms. Matilda, and a few of the other students here.
“If it makes you feel better, Charlotte is so happy to finally have a daughter, that she’s been preparing your room since she told me to come and talk to you. But, I told her that I didn’t want to push you into this. A few days ago, she found the bill from this place-when dad was on vacation-and was so curious that she checked it out online, and found a picture of you. She called me down, and I explained it to her, and she wasted no time on finding the first available visiting day, and she even spent a whole day internet browsing until she found a surgery that might work.”
I was touched, Charlotte didn’t even know me, yet she was doing all of this. No one had done that before. Maybe I wasn’t so alone, and maybe, just maybe, I would be able to see again.
“When’s the surgery scheduled for?” I asked, finding new determination to be able to see again.
If it was the last thing I did.
