Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Milo

I wondered what it looked like for others—the world. What did they see that my eyes missed out on? I wondered if I ever saw the world as it was actually supposed to be seen. I never knew I had an issue, which was probably part of the problem. I just assumed everyone saw everything through the same lens as I did.

What did their blues look like? And their greens? How far beside them could they witness? What were their perspectives on life, and how had I gone so long without knowing I was different?

Lately, I felt as if I looked at everything from a new viewpoint. I studied things longer; animals, people, and plants. I zoomed in on objects more than I ever had before. Once you learned you might lose your vision forever, you looked at life through a different set of eyes—cliché as it sounded. The issue was that I wasn’t certain that what I was seeing was what I was supposed to be seeing.

I also went through a box of photographs that sat in the back of my closet. They were a collection of pictures of my parents and me. I went through them over the past year every now and again whenever I felt that missing Mom was too strong. Something about seeing her in photos and witnessing her smile was enough to get me through some of the hardest days.

The idea that I wouldn’t have that source of connection with her one day terrified me. I didn’t want to forget her smile. Her eyes. Her . I was terrified of forgetting her.

When it was time for the next appointment for my eye exam, I somehow managed to get Dad to drive me to the doctor’s appointment, where he waited in the lobby for me to finish. When I walked into the office space, I felt nauseous. It was as if I’d already known what was coming, yet I was still terrified to hear the words leave the doctor’s mouth.

Everything felt as if it were moving in both slow motion and rapid speed. I couldn’t get a grip on the situation, and my eyes were tired of being dilated and examined repeatedly.

I kept blinking, trying to shake off the odd sensation taking place.

Then for a while, I was left alone in the exam room.

I sat there, feeling an achingly loud sense of loneliness. I knew when the doctor returned, he’d have the results for me. I wasn’t certain I was ready to hear the diagnosis.

He walked back in with a smile that told me everything I needed to know. “Okay,” he stated. “The results are back…but first, do you have a family member in the lobby who you’d like to bring in so they hear all the information with you?”

That was his nice way of saying, “You’re going blind, so you might need a support system.”

“My dad’s out there,” I mentioned.

He nodded. “If you’d like, you can go get him and bring him back with you.”

I felt idiotic for wanting my father to come into that exam room with me. I was grown enough that I should’ve been able to handle it on my own, but such a big part of me wanted his support.

I wished it were Mom, though. I wondered if I’d ever stop wishing it were Mom.

Without much more thought, I pushed myself up from my chair and headed out to the lobby to find my father. As I glanced around, I noticed he was no longer sitting there waiting for me.

I checked the bathrooms for him, but they were all empty. I shot him a text message but received no reply. I went outside to see if he’d perhaps taken a cigarette break, yet my stomach tightened up when I looked across the parking lot and realized his car was gone.

Before walking back to the office, I pulled out my cell phone and opened my contacts. My finger hovered over Starlet’s name for a moment. She was who I wanted at that time. She was who I needed. But she was strictly off-limits for her own good. If I called, she’d show up. I had no questions or doubts about that. Yet I couldn’t screw up her world solely because my own was a mess. I’d never add harm to her life if I could avoid it. Still, I wished she was there with me. She was good at making the bad things hurt a little less.

I put my phone away and headed back into the doctor’s office, feeling like a complete moron, and resumed my seat. I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Something came up, and he had to leave.”

Embarrassment wasn’t enough to express how I’d felt.

I felt alone.

I was alone.

And I was on the verge of losing my vision.

***

My father never came back to pick me up. I ended up using an app to order a ride home, and when I got there, Dad was nowhere to be found yet again. I spent hours raging about the fact that the asshole couldn’t even manage to be a parent for more than fifteen minutes. When I needed him the most, he couldn’t even be bothered to stay.

My rage only built as time passed because for some reason, it was easier for me to be pissed at my father than to deal with the reality of my situation.

I hated him.

I knew I should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt as Weston told me, but I couldn’t muscle up the fuck to give.

Screw him for not being there for me.

The wrong parent died.

That was one of the darkest thoughts to cross my mind, and I felt like an asshole for even thinking about it. But I had. I felt even worse because I believed it. What kind of monster did that make me? What did that say about my character?

When Dad stumbled into the house around seven that night, he was wasted out of his mind. I felt a certain rage build up inside me, looking at the shape he was in. How selfish of him to get behind the wheel like that. It was as if he had no care in the world for the other people on the road. For how his driving could’ve caused another to lose their life.

That was how Starlet lost her mother. A person got behind the wheel, thinking they were fine, and clearly, they weren’t. People like my father were the reason people like Starlet didn’t have their loved ones anymore.

He dropped his keys seconds later and scratched at his wild beard. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like the walking dead.

“You left me,” I muttered. I didn’t even know why I was talking to him because it was obvious he wasn’t in a clear state of mind.

“I’m sorry. I ran out for a drink, and when I got back, I guess you were gone.”

“You didn’t call me.”

“My phone died. Forgot to charge it.”

“Where have you been since then? The appointment was hours ago.”

“What is this? Fifty questions? Don’t forget who’s the parent here, boy.” He brushed past me toward the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab another beer. That was what he didn’t need—more poison for his soul.

Maybe I was a hypocrite, seeing how I’d drink, too, but not like him.

Never like him.

“How did that eye appointment go, anyway?” he asked as he plopped down on the recliner in the living room. He burped as he cracked open the can and took a long swig.

I stared at him for a moment, considering what to tell him.

I’m going blind, Dad, and I’m scared. I’m going blind, Dad, and I need you. I’m going blind, Dad, and I don’t know how to deal with this without you in my corner. I’m going blind, and I miss Mom. I miss her so much that it hurts to breathe. And I miss you even more, even though you’re right here in the room with me.

Those were the words I wanted to say.

Those were the truths I’d wished I could speak about.

Instead, I said, “Fine. I’m going to do my homework.”

“Good,” he agreed. “Keep those grades up, will you? Don’t be a dummy.”

I didn’t reply because I knew that it wasn’t my father who was talking. That was a man who surrendered himself to his demons. I watched him be torn apart day after day, and there was nothing I could do to help him.

That night, I slept with my lights on. When my alarm went off in the morning, I still felt nothing but darkness.

As I headed to the lake in the morning to watch the sunrise, I was surprised to see a person sitting there on my bench. As I grew closer, they turned to face me, and I felt a tug in my chest. There she was, sitting there in my most sacred spot, waiting for me.

The relief that swept over me felt like a calming balm to my tired soul. How did Starlet know? How did she know I’d need her that morning? My eyes stung, and my knees almost buckled as I walked her way.

I smiled a bit, almost embarrassed to show how much her being there meant to me. “Hey, Teach.”

Starlet was bundled up, rubbing her hands together. “Good morning.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I hear this spot has the best sunrises.”

“I can cosign that fact. It does indeed.” I took a seat beside her, so close that our bodies were brushed up against one another. The lake was semi-frozen. Areas had flowing water, while others were big chunks of solid ice. Soon enough, spring would sweep through and melt it all away.

“How did you find this spot?” I asked her, confused by how she’d discovered it.

“You told me it was hidden from the world, and I wandered around for a while. Then I found the bench with your parents’ initials. I knew I landed in the right spot.”

My fingers traced over the initials slowly. I often wondered what emotions were in my parents’ hearts when they carved their names in wood.

“Were you up all night on your search engine?” I asked her.

“No,” she quickly stated. “That would be ridiculous.”

I arched my eyebrow.

She sighed. “Yes, I was.”

“Figured that would happen.”

She turned toward me and placed a hand on my leg. “Milo, you’re going to be okay. No matter what happens, we’ll figure out the best way of life for you.”

We.

She said it so effortlessly, as if she had no plans of going anywhere. If there was ever a moment in my life when I needed to hear the word we, it was right then and there.

I snickered a little and nodded. “Everything’s gonna work out fine,” I said, using the line she told me her father always used on her.

“Yes, exactly. Everything’s gonna work out fine.”

“I’m scared,” I confessed.

“That makes sense,” she replied. “I’m scared, too.”

I lowered my head and stared at my hands. “I don’t want to be an extra burden to your life, Starlet. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go researching or anything. I can do this on my own.”

“I know you can,” she agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The words rolled off my tongue so effortlessly as if they were made solely for her ears to hear.

Her eyes glassed over before she leaned in toward me and rested her head against my shoulder. We sat there in the darkness, waiting for the sun to rise. We were quiet for a while until I said, “The doctor recommended I use a walking cane to keep me from running into stuff.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I’m not blind yet. People will look at me like I’m insane.”

“Since when does Milo Corti care what people think?”

I smirked. “Since he found out he’s going blind. I don’t think I need it. Not yet. It turns out it could take years before my vision fades completely.”

She sat straighter and tilted her head. “What scares you the most about it?”

“Currently, there are only two things, really. Not being able to see the sunrise and not being able to see you.”

She placed her hands against my face and pulled me in toward her. Her lips fell against mine, and she kissed me slowly. Her forehead fell against mine, and as she shut her eyes, she whispered, “I see you, Milo. Even with my eyes closed.”

I shut my stare and sighed. “I see you, too.”

We watched the sunrise together, and it felt extra intense that morning.

“Do you know my favorite thing about sunrises?” she asked me.

“What’s that?”

“Even when you can’t see the sunrise, you can still feel it. It’s still there for you. There’s a certain tingle in the air, like magic undulating in the atmosphere around you. The warmth of the sun hits your skin after being enclosed in nightfall for so long. Your skin can almost feel the sensations of each color.” She shut her eyes and tilted her head up to the sky. “The yellows, the oranges, the blues, and purples. It’s as if the sunrise is bursting all over you.”

Her eyes opened. She smiled as she turned my way and said, “You don’t have to see the sunrise to witness its beauty. You can feel it against your soul.”

I placed my forehead against hers and kissed her lips slowly. “You feel like the sun to me,” I whispered. She was the thing that kept me warm.

Her lips parted against mine as she spoke. “Can I come back to join you tomorrow?”

“And the day after that,” I told her. “And the day after that...”

And the day after that.