Chapter Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Milo
When Mom got sick, we were given an unstable timeline of events. Some days moved slowly, and others sped past. For the most part, the good days were the ones that went by in a blink of an eye. The bad ones seemed to last forever. Watching her worsen day after day was the hardest part for me. There was nothing more heart-shattering than witnessing someone you love fading away.
The unknown was tough because some days she seemed like herself again. As if she was going to win her battle.
Finding out that I was losing my eyesight slightly reminded me of that same feeling. An unstable timeline of events. The problem with being diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa was it could be years before it worsens or days. There was no way to know how soon the progression of the loss of sight would develop. I didn’t know if I was being too ahead of the curve, thinking about using a walking cane. I didn’t know how much worse it could get. I didn’t know what limitations I should place against myself. I felt lost in a cloud of confusion, and scared there was a chance that one morning I’d wake up to a world of darkness. Or that one day, I’d blink and nothing would appear.
Everything felt overwhelming, but I did know one thing. I didn’t trust myself driving anymore. What if everything went black as it had in class? What if I’d put others lives in danger by being on the road? I was losing a sense of independence, and that broke me more than I thought it would. I wasn’t good at asking for help. That never came easy to me.
“I need you to drive me to school each day,” I said. Those words felt ridiculous as they left my mouth. Dad sat on the couch, which seemed to be his norm whenever he was actually home. He’d never slept in his bedroom since Mom passed away. I’d always find him knocked out on that couch instead. Coming to him for help felt crazy, seeing how he could hardly help himself.
“What’s wrong with your car?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just can’t drive.”
“Why the hell not? Did you get a ticket or something? What did you do?”
A twitch of anger hit me, but I tried my best to stay calm. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Clearly, you did if you’re not allowed to drive.”
“No, I didn’t. You would’ve known the reason I couldn’t drive if you hadn’t ditched me at the doctor’s appointment.”
He grimaced and shook his head. “I came back for you. Your ass just wasn’t patient, that’s all.”
“Whatever. I need you to drive me to school.”
He scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m busy. I’ll get you money so you can get someone to pick you up. Maybe one of your friends can take you.”
“Dad—”
“I don’t really have it in me to go back and forth this morning, Milo. It’s seven in the damn morning and—”
“I’m losing my sight,” I blurted out, feeling annoyed and angry with him. He didn’t even ask what was said at the doctor’s appointment. He hadn’t even questioned the reason why I couldn’t drive. He didn’t care. Not a single part of that man that cared.
“Bullshit,” he replied.
“I am. That’s what the doctor’s appointment was about. I have this issue with my sight, and there’s no cure.”
“Can’t glasses help?”
“No. It’s more serious than that.”
He sat up on the couch. “Like you’re going blind?”
I nodded.
He cleared his throat. His head dropped, and he muttered something under his breath. I paused to see what exactly he was saying or thinking. Instead, he pushed himself up from the couch and walked past me.
“I’m going to go wash up. I’ll drive you in a minute,” he told me.
He headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. I heard him slam the counter and say “Fuck!” repeatedly.
A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom, grabbed his keys, and headed out to the car. “Let’s go.”
I pretended not to notice the bloodshot eyes he’d had when he exited the bathroom. He pulled up to the school and put the car in park. He turned my way. “You got more of them appointments?”
“I have a few, yeah.”
“It’s that serious?”
“Yeah. It’s that serious.”
His head dropped, and he shook it. “What the hell am I supposed to do about this? How am I supposed to…this was your mom’s role. She was better equipped for—”
“She’s gone.” I interrupted. “She’s gone, Dad. You have to face that fact.”
“I know. I know, all right? You don’t have to remind me. I know she’s…” His words faded off.
“Dead,” I finished. “She’s dead. Like it or not, you’re all I’ve got, and I need you right now. I need you, Dad, all right? I need you.”
Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he sniffled. He wiped at his face. “Okay. All right. I hear you, okay? I’ll be there. I got you.”
My chest tightened from seeing him fall apart. He normally hid that side of himself from me. I wanted to say something to comfort him, but I didn’t think words would be able to do that. Instead, I told him what time to pick me up, and he agreed to be there. There was a chance he would be a no-show again. But I hoped he’d make it.
I prayed he’d be there for me.
***
Every night before I fell asleep, I’d receive a text message from Starlet telling me she was in my corner. She was my biggest cheerleader and offered any form of support she could shoot my way. When I felt too overwhelmed, she’d meet me at the lake. We’d watch the sunrise together before I walked her back to her car, buckled her in, and I’d steal a kiss from her. That kiss got me through the rest of the day most of the time. Before, I needed sex and booze to distract me, but now, all I needed was Starlet and her kisses. Starlet and her comfort. Starlet. All I needed was her.
Our tutoring schedule shifted due to all the appointments I’d had in front of me, and the nights I didn’t get to see her only made me crave mornings even more.
To my surprise, Dad began to show up for me. Not only did he show up to pick me up from school, but he also took me to my appointments the following two weeks. He’d sit in with me and ask the doctors questions whenever I didn’t know what to ask.
For the first time in a while, I felt as if I had a parent again. I had a glimpse of hope for a future between us. Sure, it wouldn’t be like before, but we could have a new normal. Like Starlet and her father had.
At least, that was what I thought before the night of my group therapy session.
My doctor recommended I get a therapist and consider group therapy with other individuals who were legally blind or in the process of losing their vision. The idea of it sounded awful to me, but I agreed to it. I knew if I didn’t, I’d fall deeper into my depression, and that didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do. Plus, the curiosity of it all was there. I’d never met a blind person, and I selfishly wanted to see their life.
The group session happened in a conference room of a warehouse that was used for different businesses. The space was lit up with lights, which made a major difference in my vision. I noticed the brighter the lights, the better I could see a lot of the time.
Eleven chairs were set up in a big circle, and I was one of the first people to arrive. I picked a seat, and it didn’t take long for people to fill up the seats beside me. To my left was an older guy, probably in his late sixties. His name was Henry, and he lost his sight due to health issues. To my right was a kid about ten years old named Bobby. Bobby was born blind. Seeing someone that young without his vision made me feel a bit more guilty about complaining about my vision issues.
“Who’s to my left?” Bobby asked, nudging his shoulder toward me and bumping it.
I cleared my throat and turned to him. “I’m Milo,” I loudly stated.
Bobby snickered. “Not so loud. I’m blind, not deaf,” he joked. I felt like a complete idiot, but Bobby rolled on with the conversation. “Are you new here?”
“Yeah, first time.”
“What’s with your eyes?”
I arched my brow. “I’m sorry?”
“What’s special about your eyes?”
Special?
I hesitated before replying with what I thought he was asking me. “Uh, I have retinitis pigmentosa.”
“Oh, sweet!” Bobby exclaimed. “My friend Cate has that.”
“I don’t see what’s so sweet about it.” I grimaced.
“Yeah, well, you don’t see it cuz you’re blind, dude,” he replied with a snicker.
What was wrong with this kid?
He shook his head slightly. “Lighten up a little. It’s not like the world around you is going to do it for you. Everything around us might be dark, but your personality doesn’t have to be.”
“Okay, baby Yoda,” I muttered, not wanting to engage anymore with the burst of optimism sitting beside me. I wanted to wallow a bit more—not make inappropriate jokes about losing my sight with a blind kid.
Bobby didn’t care about my desire not to engage with him. He kept on chatting. “I was born without sight. Some people call it a congenital disability, but my mom calls it my superpower. Kind of like Matt Murdock.”
I arched my eyebrow. “Who the hell is Matt Murdock?”
“Dude! Are you kidding me? Matt Murdock, also known as Daredevil. Also, also known as the best superhero in all the Marvel worlds. He’s a blind superhero. He’s amazing.”
“Don’t listen to the kid,” the guy on my left grumbled. “He just talks a lot about anything. I hate the idea of people referencing superheroes when they talk about us being blind. It’s like them trying to give us a pity gift or some shit.”
I liked his attitude. It was much more in tune with my own.
Bobby sighed. “Don’t listen to the old grump, Henry, over there. He hasn’t been happy since 1845.”
I smirked slightly.
This kid was annoying but funny.
“You’ll learn fast that our little group here has a lot of different personalities,” a woman said, walking up to me. She held her hand out toward me. “You must be Milo. I’m Tracy, the group leader.”
I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Milo. I’m glad you joined us. I think you’ll find out how unique and wonderful this group is. I think it’s funny that you somehow were seated between the two most vibrant individuals in our group. We like to call them The Odd Couple .”
Henry grumbled, “It’s a stupid name.”
Tracy smiled and whispered toward me, “I’ll let you guess which one is Oscar and which one is Felix.” She began to navigate herself over to her chair. “Hey, everyone, it’s good to have you all back for another weekly session. We have a new individual joining us, so let’s try our best not to scare him off. Everyone, welcome Milo today.”
Everyone greeted me. I hated the attention on me, so I was thankful when Tracy shifted the conversation from my arrival to the overall discussion. Everyone seemed to have their own strong personalities, and they laughed a lot together, too. I learned about how long they’d been dealing with their sight situations and how many achievements they’d made throughout their lives.
For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt a little less alone and a little less scared. Some of the things those individuals had done in their lives were truly remarkable. Tracy herself had run half marathons, and rock climbed. Another person opened up a bakery shop. Bobby was convinced he was the next Marvel actor in a few years. By his spunk, I wouldn’t have put it past him.
When the session came to an end, Tracy had everyone say a word or two to describe how they were feeling about their current situations. All sorts of words were tossed out. Happy. Disappointed. Stuck. Annoyed. Proud.
When it came time for my words, I swallowed hard. “Pissed off.”
“That makes sense, Milo. Do you want to talk about why you chose those words?” Tracy asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then that’s great, too. Thank you for sharing.”
The session ended, and I was happy I wasn’t pushed to share about why I was pissed off. But I was also proud of being honest at the moment. I was pissed off about my current situation. I knew it was awful for me to feel this because some of the people in that room seemingly had it more challenging than me, but I felt as if I’d been robbed of a part of my life out of nowhere. I didn’t get what kind of beef life had against me. I didn’t understand why it kept swinging at me, trying to knock me out, but I was pissed off about it. I was pissed off that my sight was already crappy and would only get worse over time. I was pissed off that there wasn’t a cure. I was pissed off that others could just get a pair of glasses and be on their way. I was pissed off that life wasn’t fair, and I was pissed off that Mom wasn’t around to give me some pep talk to make me feel better.
Maybe that was what pissed me off the most.
“You picked good words,” Henry said, leaning in my direction as he began to stand from his chair. “Pissed off. I feel like those are my words every damn day—pissed off.”
“Yeah. They seem to be mine a lot, too.”
“Listen, kid. You didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m old and that’s what older people do because we’ve been through enough shit to know enough shit. So listen here. I know today you heard about all this amazing stuff that people did. Running marathons, opening shops, wanting to be superheroes, and crap, but let me tell you something. You don’t have to do any of that stuff, all right? You can just be yourself. And if yourself is some asshole who only likes sitting on your front porch and telling people to piss off, well, that’s good enough, too. We don’t have to be some success story to tell others to be like, ‘See? I’m not lesser than you! I can do these things, too!’ Because you’re not lesser than others. You’re human, you’re whole, and you don’t have shit to prove to anyone. If you want to be pissed off, then be pissed off for as long as you want, all right?”
It was as if Mom knew I needed a pep talk made just for me, so she sent Henry. “Thanks, Henry, I appreciate that.”
“Henry’s right,” Bobby said, joining in. “But you could always be Daredevil, too. The options for us are limitless.”
Henry grimaced. “Will you shut the hell up, boy?” he yipped at Bobby.
“Love you, too, Henry,” Bobby replied.
I snickered at the two of them. They were definitely the odd couple.
I exited the building to find Dad still parked in the same spot where I had left him. A sigh of relief rolled through me as I walked over to the car and climbed inside.
He gave me a lazy smile. “Are you good?”
I nodded. “Thanks for waiting.”
“Yeah, of course, of course.” He brushed his thumb across the bridge of his nose. “But you’re sure you’re good, though, right?”
My chest tightened a bit. “Yeah, Dad. I’m good.”
“Good. That’s good. All right. Let’s get home. I can order us a pizza or something.” He turned on the radio, and we rode home in silence, but I didn’t feel as pissed off as I had prior to stepping into the car with my dad.
He asked if I was good.
That was more than he’d done in a very long time. For a split second, I felt as if I were getting my father back. Sure, to the outside world, it probably seemed like the bare minimum of what he should’ve been doing, but to me, it felt like the biggest victory. Finding out your father still cared after doubting it for over a year felt like something to celebrate.
We ate pizza that night on the couch, while watching a basketball game together. We didn’t talk much during the game, but sometimes words weren’t needed. We’d said a lot that night without words just by sitting that close and eating dinner together for the first time in months.