Chapter Ten #2
His voice is level, concerned. I can feel him getting ahead of what I’m about to say; it’s clear that he’s figured out where I’m going with this but is holding back until I deliver more information.
“She doesn’t really talk about it, so I don’t know exactly what to say here, but long story short, the condition with her eyes is genetic.
” I fumble with the explanation. I’ve gone through a script in my brain a million times, how I would explain this to someone, but here in the moment, none of it is coming out as smoothly as I’d hoped.
I glance at Declan, who is watching me intently. His concerned eyes narrow, then go wide, and his jaw goes slack. The pieces fitting into place. The reason for my big reaction to a seemingly innocuous joke. I focus back on the road.
“Basically, there’s a one-in-four chance that I’ll also be blind, like my sister, but for me, it would be in addition to already being deaf. In ways that will each continue to progress over my lifetime.”
Declan reaches out to squeeze my arm. “I’m—I didn’t know.”
“This feels way too weird and somber.” I wish we weren’t stuck in a car right now so that I could pace around the floor. “Like, I’m fine. Right now it’s mostly just a trippy mind game,” I say, devolving into laughter, a different kind of tragic joke that somehow seems ridiculous.
His face lightens. “I don’t know if you’d want to hear an apology, but can I say that I’m sorry I don’t really know what reaction to give you right now?”
“Exactly!” My voice grows louder and more delirious, like this is the most hilarious thing in the world. “Like, what are you supposed to say to that?”
He shakes his head, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, with a matching grin. “I have no idea.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk normally around me.
I’m not trying to tell you what you can or can’t say.
It’s just—that comment hurt, and it hit me deeper than I thought it could.
Like, if this happens, it happens, and my life continues on; I’ll just have more shit to figure out, but that’s life, isn’t it? ”
“True.” He lets me continue since I show no sign of slowing down the thoughts pouring out of my mouth.
“And honestly, I love making deaf or blind jokes—Amelia and I do it all the time—they can be objectively super funny, but…” I take a moment to figure out how to phrase the nuance.
“But it depends on the context and situation. Like, the point of the joke is the circumstance we have to deal with, not, well, me.”
“And I really, really didn’t mean anything like that,” he says. “I promise.”
“Declan, I know.” I keep my tone light and reach over toward him, and he grabs my hand. “But right now I don’t know what my life is going to look like, and it’s sometimes too much for my brain to handle. Like, the anticipation and uncertainty feel worse than the actual outcome sometimes.”
“I get that.” He squeezes my fingers. I take a deep breath, glad to stop talking. I said what I needed to say, but I only feel partial relief.
It distracts me from the current reality that Declan and I are holding hands. Extra confusing. I pull away from his grasp and put both of my hands back on the wheel.
“I can tell you one thing for sure,” he says, brushing back his hair, suddenly bashful.
“Oh, really?” I look at him out of the corner of my eye doubtfully.
“That none of that changes the way I think about you.”
I smile, realizing I’m the one giving a pitiful expression. “That’s easy to say now.”
He leans back. “Iris, why would any of that change how I feel about you?”
“Because other people—”
“I’m not other people.” Declan says this so earnestly that I can’t find a response. Then, with a cocky sort of confidence, he adds, “For a second, I thought you wanted to talk about that text.”
Does this stretch of road have more potholes than the rest of the journey so far? Because I’m finding every indent of the pavement fascinating. “What text?”
“The one I saw on your phone yesterday.” No further implications about what the question at the core of his statement is, however.
That feels like way longer ago. “That was only yesterday?” I ask.
Declan nods, serious. “I thought that was maybe something we should also discuss?”
I let out a short nervous laugh.
“I can’t believe my sister sent that. She teases me all the time.
I never know what she’s going to say.” My heart is beating so loudly I can’t hear my own thoughts.
“And I definitely didn’t guess what she had texted or I would’ve checked my phone before handing it to you.
I was just trying to ignore it, but you want to talk about it, probably because you’ve been thinking that I have some big secret crush on you.
I’m sorry if that’s made anything uncomfortable. ”
I move over to the right lane, driving slowly, then turn my shoulders ever so slightly so that Declan and I briefly stare each other down, waiting for someone to make the next move. The way we’ve done across the table hundreds of times. Yet this tension is charged in a way I never expected.
“You think I’ve been thinking that?” he asks.
We’re stuck at a stalemate, again.
I sigh and admit, “Declan, I have no idea what you’ve been thinking.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Really?”
“No.” I shake my head, trying to overplay my confidence. “But I suppose we can clear things up and say that no, I don’t have a crush on you.”
“I see,” he says, nodding, taking in my response. I know I’m giving off mixed signals. “Because it has been a little awkward.”
“Right,” I say, doubling down on laughter again, trying to disguise how my brain is reeling.
I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but he seems relieved by my lack of an admission, and it’s more of a letdown than I’d care to admit to myself.
“Sorry about that. The last thing either of us needs is some random crush when we’re about to go off to college and meet a million new people. ”
“Exactly,” he mumbles. “However, those are some odds I feel very confident stating.”
“What?”
“That there’s a zero-percent chance of one of those people being another you.”
“Or you,” I add, breathless, feeling my very real crush squeezing the air out of my lungs. “Good thing we’re friends, then, isn’t it?”