Chapter 2

MOMENTS LATER, GRACE LIFTS my hands from where they’re resting on the table and positions them around my drinking glass to make it easier to find. It’s an act she performs gently, naturally. But I don’t need her charity.

“I can find my own drink even in my condition,” I snap, releasing the glass. “I’ll need the practice in the event my eyesight is gone-baby-gone for good.”

I extend my arms out over the table, pat it with my fingers, pretending to search for something, anything, like a man trying to see his way in the pitch dark. Until I find my glass. I play the role of the blind man, as if this come-and-go condition were all made up.

“That guy still staring at us?” I ask.

“He is.”

“Ignore him.”

“I’ve been trying to do exactly that. But it isn’t easy.”

“It is easy. Just close your eyes, baby, and try to be just like me.”