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Bree
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I WALKED INTO THE DINING room, immediately smelling my father’s cologne and hearing the slight crinkling sound of the newspaper I knew was in his hands. I found my seat and sat down.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“Good morning. Did you recover from your long weekend?”
“I did. It was nice to sleep in my own bed. How about you? You sound better than you did when I left.”
I smiled. “I am feeling a little better.”
“Good. Have you given any more thought to what Dr. Tanner had to say?”
I tried to hide the irritation. I should have known it would be the first thing he wanted to talk to me about. I smelled the eggs I knew would be on his plate and suddenly didn’t feel hungry. “I have.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know.”
He let out a sigh meant to let me know just how irritated he was with my indecision. “Alright. I need to head into the office.”
“You just got home,” I protested. “You’ve been working for a month straight. You’re not a young man Dad. You need to slow down.”
“It isn’t like my job incudes running marathons.”
“It’s still stressful and you’re working too hard,” I argued.
I knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to be around me. He didn’t want to see me the way I was. He wanted me fixed. He liked things neat and tidy and I was throwing a huge wrench into his plans. He had done the same thing after my mother died. He worked and worked and worked. He kept himself so busy he didn’t have time to think about anything.
I would like to throw myself into my art or swimming—anything. But I couldn’t. I was stuck in the big house he insisted I live in with him. Yet, I rarely saw him. He hired Luke and essentially washed his hands of me. He wanted me fixed. I knew it was hard on him to see me the way I was.
“I’ll be fine. Luke should be coming in soon.”
“I thought he was going to be off today?” I asked.
“I called him this morning and asked him to work today. I’ll try and get him a day off later this week.”
It was a nice surprise to know I would be able to spend some time with Luke today. We weren’t dating, but we were friends and it was nice to be able to hang out with him. If he asked me to go to the beach, I would do it. I had been rejecting the offers the last few days, but I had to try and snap out of the funk I was in.
“Have a good day,” I called out when I heard him leaving the room without saying so much as goodbye.
I heard him mumble something as he walked away. He was disappointed in me. Of course. He was working so hard to find a way to fix me and I had rejected the one offer on the table. Not rejected, but I was still mulling it over.
I was still sitting at the table when I heard the back door open and close. A few seconds later Luke entered. He had a different smell about him. I inhaled and immediately recognized what was off. “How are you feeling?” I teased.
He groaned. “How did you know?”
“All the cologne in the world can’t hide the distinct odor of stale alcohol.”
“I showered.”
“It’s clinging to you.”
“I’m sorry,” he groaned.
“Get some coffee. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m good.”
“You don’t sound good.”
He chuckled. “Your dad woke me up a little earlier than I was expecting. I have a minor headache but I’ll be fine once I get some coffee pumping through my veins.”
I listened as he moved around before coming to sit at the table with me. “Did you go out last night?” I asked, finding it a bit odd he would go out partying on a Monday night. Truthfully, I was a little jealous.
“Not really,” he mumbled. “Just hung out with a friend.”
I nodded, wondering if it was a male or female friend. Again, I had no right to be jealous, but I was. I wanted to know if he was seeing someone else. “At a club?” I pressed, trying to sound interested without sounding like I was interrogating him.
“No,” he answered.
I took another bite of my toast and washed it down with some coffee. Something was off with him. “Did Lisa make it to Texas okay?”
He sighed. “Yes. She texted and let me know she was there.”
He was not interested in conversation. I understood. He was hungover and needed some time to wake up and get his juices flowing. I decided to quit trying to have a conversation with him and just let him enjoy his breakfast in silence. The quiet in the room only magnified the tension between us.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, getting up from the table.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, always the dutiful caregiver.
I smiled. “No, I can do this on my own. I’ve already got my clothes laid out for the day.”
“Alright, holler if you need me.”
For the first time that morning, he sounded normal. The coffee seemed to work. I walked out of the dining room, hoping by the time I showered and got dressed for the day, he would be back to his old self. I really didn’t like him hungover.
I took my time in the bathroom. I wished I could put on makeup, but I was not brave enough to try. I was terrified I would end up looking like a clown or poke my eye out. Not that they were serving any purpose at the moment, but I would rather have eyes that didn’t work than no eyes at all.
Walking out of my room, I listened for a clue as to where he might have been. I heard nothing, and wondered if he had gone back to the cottage for something. I moved down the hall to the living room, and pausing in the entry, I listened and immediately heard the soft snores of a hungover man sleeping it off. I smiled and very quietly left the room and headed to the solarium.
I could feel the sun through the windows and knew it was a nice day out. It would be a good day for the beach. If my eyes worked, I would already be down there. I would be walking along the beach, enjoying the peacefulness before the day got going and it was flooded with other beachgoers. It would also be a nice day to paint.
Painting was probably the one thing that was really pulling at me. It was the need to see art and beauty that had me leaning towards the surgery. I could be alone in the world if I was able to paint and view art. I let myself get lost in thought, thinking about what I would paint if I could see. I thought about the art museum in New York that I loved so much. I thought about my plans to travel the world and collect pieces of art from artists no one had ever heard of before and open my own gallery.
I could do none of that if I couldn’t see the damn art. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you come out of your room,” Luke said.
Turning my head toward him, I smiled. “You were taking a little nap. I’m fine. I was just sitting here and soaking up the sun.”
“We should work out,” he said, sounding less than enthused with the idea.
Laughing softly, I said, “I think we can skip a day. I don’t want you to drop a weight on your head.”
“I won’t drop a weight on my head,” he snapped.
Flinching, I turned my face back towards the windows. He was in one hell of a mood. “Okay.”
I heard him flop down in one of the chairs furthest from me. I hated that there was something off between us. I couldn’t help but think something had happened last night. Not something, but someone. He had met someone and he was forced to leave her warm bed and come take care of an invalid.
“Is there anything you want to talk about,” I asked.
“No Bree. I’m fine. I’m sorry if I’m a little short today.”
“Is it stuff with your mom and sister?” I pressed, knowing I should just let it go. “You can talk to me about anything. Lord knows I’ve unburdened my soul on you more times than I can count.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” he insisted.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Yes.”
I licked my lips before plunging on. “Is there something on your mind? Something you would like to talk about—as my friend.”
He let out a long, drawn out sigh. “No, Bree. I’m fine. Why don’t we go for a swim?”
He was trying to distract me, and keep me occupied so he didn’t have to hang out with me. I hated being a burden. “Sure,” I said, without any real enthusiasm.
We managed to get through the afternoon without saying more than a few words to one another. It was one of the worst days I had ever spent with him. I was dying to know what was going on. If I could see his face, I could get a better read on the situation. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t see if his jaw was clenched or if his eyes were flashing with anger. I didn’t know if had tears in his eyes or if he was suffering with some kind of pain. I knew none of that because I couldn’t see him.
I fought the urge to stomp my feet and scream at the universe for dealing me the hand I’d been given. When I heard him curse under his breath while he was making us a late snack, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had tried to give him his space and it wasn’t working for me. Call me nosy, but I needed to know what the fuck was happening two feet away from me.
“Luke, please, will you just tell me what it is that’s bothering you? Don’t say there’s nothing wrong. You’ve hardly spoken today. I can hear your breathing and know something is weighing heavy on your shoulders. You aren’t acting like yourself. What is it? Please, just tell me!”
“Bree, just leave it alone.”
I heard a plate land in front of me. “I just want you to be able to talk to me. This doesn’t feel like a friendship at all. You are holding something back and I don’t understand why. You don’t think I can handle it?”
There was a long silence. “I’m heading out early today. Your dad said he was only going to be gone a few hours. He should be back soon. If you need something, hit your button and I’ll come running.”
“You’ll come running?” I repeated.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve said that to you several times before. Don’t go getting all sensitive about it now.”
I didn’t even recognize him. He was suddenly a completely different person and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I heard him walking away from me. “Luke, wait,” I called out, sliding off the stool to go after him. I ran smack into the damn thing the same time I heard the door close.
He was gone. Just like that. He had walked out on me and I was too fucking blind to chase after him without risking serious injury. I reached out, finding the stool and throwing it. I was beyond over the blind thing. Sick to death of being blind.
In that moment, I decided I wanted the surgery. If there was even the slightest chance I could see again, I had to take it. The worse thing that could happen was that I would die. It wasn’t like I would know if I was dead. If I woke up and couldn’t see, so be it. That was my fate. I would demand my father move me into some group home for the blind far away and I would go. I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone ever again.
