Eighteen Months Page 8

  “Sorry, that’s a valid question. Here’s what I’d suggest. Tell them you’re completely, permanently blind, and have been for only a few months. In reality, I think you’ll adjust faster than that, but they don’t need to know how long it’s been since you went blind. Tell them you’re permanently blind so you don’t have to explain about getting your sight back and all that stuff.”

  “But what happens when I can see again? Will I need all new friends?”

  “Of course not. When your vision begins to return, you tell them – it’s like a miracle. Then you tell them the doctors have said you might be making a miraculous recovery, and so on. Between now and then, you’ll live your life as the blind woman you are, and they’ll never know the difference – especially since you’re new in town. As far as everyone is concerned, you’re blind, and you chose River’s Edge because it’s something of a haven for the handicapped.”

  I couldn’t think of a better plan, and said so. It was time to leave and head uptown.

  To make a long story short, we finally got there in a little over an hour. Learning to tap my way down the street without constant input from Rina – and she refused to give me any input this time – took forever. I did find my way to the bus stop. Since there were three busses that used that stop, and only one went to the Metrorail station for the train uptown, I had to ask and, of course, it turned out to be the third one.

  The Metrorail station was a little scary but I got us through it and onto the train. Fortunately, there’s only one line at the River’s Edge station, the green line, and it goes directly to the Mt. Auburn stop near UDS. I both listened to and counted the stops: Lebanon, South Lebanon, Kings Island, Mason, Montgomery, Kenwood, Silverton, Ridge, Norwood, Rookwood, Xavier, Zoo, EPA, University, and Mt. Auburn where we got off and I navigated the three, long blocks to Uptown Disability Services, entered, and made my way to Rina’s office.

  She sounded truly amazed and I was VERY proud of myself.

  I was seated in front of her desk while she rummaged through things. I heard her light-up again – she’d smoked at least three on the way – and, of course, she offered me one.

  “Rina?” I said sarcastically.

  “Just trying to be polite, Alie.” I swear she blew smoke in my face then.

  “Oh, Alie, good news!”

  “They’re going to give me back my vision?” I said hopefully and cynically at the same time.

  “They couldn’t, even if they wanted to, which they don’t. You’re blind for the duration.”

  “Actually, for the duration plus fifteen months.”

  “Whatever. Don’t be a whiner.”

  I came within a millimeter of screaming that I was being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment then, but I managed to hold it in. Rina didn’t respond well to outbursts of self-pity. I needed her help.

  “Then what’s the good news?”

  “Because of the extended period that you’ll be unable to see, the state has agreed to provide a month or two of training, depending on what I feel is needed. That’s significantly better that the few days that are normally allowed by the state.”

  “Oh how lucky for me,” I said rudely. “I’ll be a well-trained blind person, ready for anything my broken life throws at me.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Rina said, deadly serious. “I put in for this for you so you could have the opportunity to adjust better and have a safer, happier life while you were blind. If you don’t want it, just say so. We can wrap this all up today if we hurry …”

  That was the last thing I wanted. “I apologize ... feeling sorry for myself.” I mumbled.

  ”It’s time to get over it. I have to stop in a few offices. I’ll be back in a little while. You can stay here or wander around as you want.”

  I could hear her leave before I could say anything. I felt bad – pity for myself, and sorry for how I had talked to the one person who was really trying to help me. I hoped she wouldn’t still be angry when she returned. I didn’t want to “wrap this all up today;” I needed what she had so kindly arranged for me.

  Sometimes, I can be an ungrateful asshole. I must have gotten it from Jaxson.

  I put my hand on Rina’s desk and stood up. I was trying to figure out what I could do or say to make amends. As was a habit of mine, I was going to pace back and forth while I thought it through. Of course, I used to be able to see where I was pacing. Now the whole pace and think thing was problematic. I sat back down again.

  My fingers brushed against a small object on her desk. I picked it up and realized that it was her lighter. Her cigarettes were next to it. I set them down, thinking I was pretty good at recognizing objects.

  I fidgeted in the chair, waiting for Rina to return. She must have been gone ten minutes when I started wondering when she’d get back, still uncertain of what I’d say. I decided to relieve my boredom and picked up the cigarette pack. I managed to extract a cigarette. I could tell by touch which end had the filter and which was the tobacco end.

  I thought I should put the cigarette back. I didn’t really want to smoke one – I never had and I wasn’t that interested, but I was curious as to whether or not I could actually light one and do it. I’d probably burn myself or set her office on fire.

  For some reason, that seemed very funny at that moment. I actually giggled.

  Still awkwardly holding one, I put the pack of cigarettes back. I felt around for an ashtray. There it was, on the far side of the desk, in front of where she sat.

  I wasn’t going to try this, was I? For some reason, at that moment, I considered it something of a challenge. I thought I knew how to smoke, based on what a friend had shown me back in high school, but I’d never actually done it.

  Ever.

  Rina thought I should try smoking.

  Of course she did – she was a smoker. The one thing all smokers seem to have in common is that they want everyone else to smoke.

  I wasn’t ever going to become a smoker, but I thought that I could try it. Couldn’t I? Maybe it’d show Rina that I really wanted her help, and her friendship too for that matter. Convince her that I did listen to her, even when it seemed like I was drowning in my own angst. It might also shut her up about smoking, since I could at least say that I knew what it was all about.

  I picked up the lighter. By the feel, I could tell it was a simple one, with a wheel to spin to light it. I figured out how to hold down the safety and I spun the wheel. There was a slight pop. I reached above it with my other hand and I could feel the flame’s heat. I took the cigarette that I’d pulled from the pack, and that I still held, against the flame – or where I thought the flame was. I put the filter end to my lips, holding it between the index and middle fingers of my left hand, while holding the lighter in my right. I struck the lighter again, and brought it to where I thought the end of the cigarette was. I puffed, and nothing happened. I thought I probably wasn’t close enough. I moved the lighter closer as I started to get nervous. This time I could taste the smoke in my mouth, and knew I’d lit the cigarette.

  The taste wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t awful either. I puffed out the smoke almost as soon as I tasted it. I puffed again, longer this time, and both tasted and felt the smoke in my mouth. I blew it out again without trying to inhale. I did it one more time. The taste was still unpleasant, but tolerable.

  I decided to take a small puff and go for broke. I felt for the ashtray – it was round and about six inches in diameter - and positioned the burning cigarette so I was pretty sure the lighted end was over the ashtray. I tapped it with my index finger, not knowing if there were already too much ash or not. Then I moved it to my right hand, and brought it to my lips.

  I sucked a small amount of smoke into my mouth. Then I slowly inhaled the nicotine-laden smoke in my mouth. I felt it go down my throat. I concentrated hard on not coughing or choking. I held the smoke for a few seconds to make sure I was ready, then carefully exhaled.

  As far as I could tell, I
’d done it! And I didn’t cough at all! I tried it again with another small puff, and I was able to repeat the puff again with no problems. I still didn’t get the appeal, but it wasn’t a bad experience.

  I waited a little bit, then took a larger puff, maybe three times as much as the first two. I slowly inhaled and, again, I held it in my lungs until I was focused and ready to exhale without choking.

  Then it hit me. An instant head rush.

  “Whoa!” I said out loud, with smoke coming out as I talked. “That was different!”

  “What was different?” I heard, as Rina had apparently returned to her office.

  “Hey!” She said. “Here I thought you weren’t a smoker! Holding out on me, eh?”

  I was so embarrassed, being caught this way, that I started babbling. “I … I … I never tried this before and you’ve been gone and I felt bad about what I said and I found the cigarettes and lighter on your desk and I looked for an ashtray and I wanted to see what it was like because you wanted me to try it and I was so nasty to you and I managed to light one and remembered what my friend in high school said about inhaling and so I tried and I got … I got … dizzy …”

  “No wonder. Those are Marlboro Softpack Reds. About as strong an American filtered cigarette as you can buy! Tap your ashes!”

  I tried and succeeded, I guess. “Sorry. I was trying to please you, since I’d acted so shitty.”

  “Forget about it. What do you think?”

  “I’d gotten the head-rush right when you walked in …”

  “Do it again.”

  I took a big puff and slowly inhaled, held it for a couple seconds, then carefully exhaled. The buzz was back, stronger than ever. “That’s gone like totally to my head,” I announced.

  “That will go away with time,” she said, “but the experience will still be great. Do it again. Take as big a drag as you can, inhale, and then hold it as long as you can.”

  I did. Then my head went out-of-control, I broke out in a cold sweat, and I was sure I needed to get to the ladies’ room as quickly as possible – which I told Rina.

  “Sorry. Too much nicotine, too quickly.” I heard her get up. I breathed in and out for a moment.

  “Uh, yeah. But I’m okay now. No need to go to the restroom.”

  Smoking is disconcerting at best, I thought at that moment.

  “You’ll adjust. Based on what I’ve seen here, you’ve taken to it pretty easily.”

  I found the ashtray and stubbed out the cigarette. I probably beat it to death, because Rina finally said, “Stop! That fag is dead! So … whatdayathink?”

  “Not awful, and I liked the buzz and heady feeling of goodness that came with it. So now, I’m not afraid of it, but I don’t really have much of an interest in trying it again.”

  “Only time will tell. To give it a fair chance, you need to smoke a carton. I think it would do some good for you. Let me know if you need my advice, guidance, or help.”

  I heard a drawer open and Rina shuffling with something.

  “Here,” she said as she placed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in my hands. “Take these for now. Put them in your purse. Smoke when you feel inclined. Don’t stop yet. See if this might help you first. Don’t be afraid.” I nodded, assuming that was enough for her. I didn’t plan to use them, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings anymore. There was no way I was gonna do a carton, but it had been an interesting experience.

  And I’d been able to do it blind and with no, as-you-go, coaching.

  “Alie, I need to bring you up-to-date on what’s going on.”

  Again, I wanted to tell Rina my name was Natalie, but I didn’t. She was being so nice to me, and helpful, and even being the friend I really needed right then. So I gave up trying to get her to use my full name, at that point. I needed her, and I’d given her enough grief for one day. It wasn’t in my nature to be ungrateful.

  “First off, you’ll be able to come here for training in getting around, dealing with being blind, reading braille, career counselling, and a bunch of other things for the next 30 to 60 working days – that’s Monday-to-Friday for six-to-ten more weeks. This is a big deal, and you’ll need it.”

  I believed her. “I’m very thankful,” I said, “especially to you for arranging this.”

  “I was glad to. Secondly, I’m assigned as your personal trainer and advisor, here in the Disability Services building and on the outside.”

  I wanted her to know how much I appreciated what she’d done, so I said, “Rina, nothing could make me happier.”

  “Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me. Now for the downsides. Before we leave here this afternoon, you need to call your prospective employer and tell them what’s going on. You’ll probably have to reject their offer in writing, but you need to contact them now.”

  I suppose I’d kept hoping something would change with my condition. I didn’t know what. I still could hardly believe I was going to be blind for so long. When you’re 22, 18 months does seem like forever.

  “Alie, I need to ask you to surrender your Driver’s License to me. Obviously, you can’t drive. You’re blind.”

  “What do I do when I can see again?”

  “You’ll have to retake the test to get a new license. As far as the state is concerned, you’re blind and will remain that way. So when you become sighted, you’ll have to prove it by taking the test. Sorry.”

  “What do I do for an ID?” I asked as I fumbled around and fished my Driver’s License out of my purse, based on my memory of where it was.

  “I’ll have one made for you in a few days, after all the paperwork makes its way through the system. In the meantime, this temporary card gives your name, address and age.” She handed me a slip of thin cardboard, which I put into the wallet that I stuffed back in my purse.

  “Hi Rina,” another voice, male this time, with a distinct English accent, called from behind me.

  “Hi John. This is Alie Adams.”

  I finally admitted to myself that I was Alie here, and there was no getting around it. I held out my hand to where I thought John was. He took it and shook it.

  “John is going to start your braille training. Since you’ve done so well navigating, he’s going to have you through lunch and into the afternoon, until about 3:00. He’ll send you back here then to call River’s Edge Biotech, so remember to count your way to his office.”

  “Okay, Alie, let’s go.” That was all he said, and I was expected to follow.

  I used my cane to get out of Rina’s office. The corridor went left and right. “John?” I called out.

  “This way, Luv,” he said with his English accent. I turned left and tapped my way along. No help from John. Just blind Alie and her cane, attempting to find her way.

  Chapter 5 – Dancing in the Dark

  Once in his office, John gave me training pills, one to take immediately and one to take every morning, which would stimulate my hippocampus, and cause me to learn faster than I otherwise would. The state had licensed him to use them. Brand new technology, like blinding people instead of putting them behind bars. In essence, the state could put bars right into their bodies now. Terrific.

  We worked for a couple of hours and then took a lunch break. I guess I was progressing adequately, maybe even well because of the pills. I am a reasonably fast learner too. It was hard, and unlike anything I’d done before, except trying to learn the Cyrillic alphabet for my Russian elective in college. This time, though, my fingertips were supposed to be my alphabet translators. John expected me to learn Grade 2 braille, which included contractions, and was the most used among the truly, permanently blind. I didn’t protest. I was going to be blind for a long time.

  We went to a nearby restaurant and I had to deal with everything myself, except that John paid. I managed, embarrassing myself a couple of times, especially when I got confused and dipped my eggroll in Wasabi mustard sauce. That about blew my head off. I almost passed out from the heat in my sinuses. John laughed at
me, a big, spontaneous belly laugh.

  The prig – that’s a British enough description, isn’t it?

  After we ate, I heard him rustling for something. Then he asked if I wanted a smoke. “I don’t smoke,” I said.

  “Oh … I thought Rina told me you did.”

  “I’ve smoked exactly one cigarette in my life, and it was this morning in her office.”

  “Okay, then you do smoke.”

  “What’s with you people? Do you all smoke?”

  “Pretty much …”

  “Do all blind people smoke?”

  “Of course not, but Rina thought it would be good for you. She thought you really needed it,” he said, innocently. “Here.”

  He must have lit one and handed it to me because he grabbed my right hand and placed a cigarette between my fingers. I could smell smoke very close to my nose.

  “John, I don’t want this.”

  “Humor me. Or, rather humor Rina. It’ll make her happy.”

  “But …”

  “Go on, it won’t kill you.”

  “Maybe not today …”

  “Smoke it.”

  It came across as a friendly command which I didn’t have the energy to fight. My mind was mush from trying to wrap itself around braille. I put the cigarette to my mouth, drew in a fairly deep puff, and inhaled it into my virgin lungs. I held it while I regained my composure, then let it out. My head was already reacting with a buzz and some vertigo.

  “What kind are these?” I asked, to cover any weird reaction he might notice, and embarrass me by telling me about it.

  “Marlboro – same as you and Rina smoke.”

  “I don’t smoke!”

  “I saw the Softpack Reds in your purse when you got a tissue out.”

  “Rina gave me those. They aren’t my brand.”

  “Oh … then what is?”

  “I don’t have a brand!” I said forcefully, trying to suppress a laugh at the joke he was obviously playing. I took a decent puff and inhaled it, which didn’t help my argument.

  “Ah … sure … okay. Well, I guess you’ll have to make do with these for now.”