Chapter Five
Gwen’s scent lingers everywhere. It’s comforting and easy to follow.
Whatever floral perfume she uses isn’t like anything that grows in the natural wilderness that I’m familiar with.
It’s exotic and unique. If I knew her better, I’d ask the name of it so I could have Uncle Atticus purchase me a bottle of my own.
“So, normally, I pass on the bulk of my caseload to other associates,” Gwen reveals once we’re alone in her office. “But I feel like you’re a special person who needs special attention.”
There’s no condescension in her voice. She really does like me. It has me relaxing even more. I’m glad I made Rowdy and Uncle Atticus leave me at the facility this time.
“Is that why we’re in your office instead of an exam room?” I ask, absently rubbing my palm over the soft leather sofa cushion.
She chuckles, the sound warm and vibrant. “You’re a smart cookie, Destiny. Yes. I feel as though we’ll be more comfortable here. I’m here to assist you, but I’d like to think of us as friends. Is that okay with you?”
It’s nice how she asks for my consent for everything. I’ve spent my entire life being told what to do or where to go. And when the bad people kidnapped us, it got a million times worse.
“I’d like that,” I say with a smile.
“Good.” Her footsteps thud across the carpet and then I hear a cabinet door creak. “I’m going to make some coffee. I have all sorts of beverages. What would you like?” She laughs again. “The way you crinkled your nose at the word coffee tells me you haven’t had good coffee.”
Dad and my brothers drink theirs “black” as they call it. It’s bitter and disgusting.
“What if I don’t like it?” I shift in my seat. “Will you be mad that I wasted it?”
“Heavens no,” she rushes out. “I’ll drink it if you don’t. I just really think you’ll like this new local blend I got. It’s toffee, cherry, and chocolate flavored. To die for.”
I love cherry-flavored candy whenever Wild’s family comes to visit us and chocolate is delicious. Never heard of toffee before, though. With a shrug and a nod, I agree to try it.
“Conversation and coffee just go so well together,” Gwen explains as the coffee starts to brew. “Trust me.”
I inhale the delightful scent. She hasn’t given me any reason not to trust her thus far. In fact, I really, really like her. While coming out here was terrifying and intimidating, it’s also kind of exciting.
“How’s the new phone? I see you got a pretty purple jeweled case for it. Great idea for not mixing it up with someone else’s phone.”
I run my thumb over the back of the phone, feeling each smooth bump. Purple. I wish I could remember what it looked like. “Kind of pointless to have one since I can’t see it.”
The tabletop in front of me clinks as she sets the coffee down for me. I know it’s the coffee because it smells even stronger now.
“I set it directly in front of you about six inches from the edge,” she explains. “The handle is on your right side. Be careful because it’s steaming hot.”
Her directions are nice and I’m easily able to find the mug.
It’s hot as promised, but I like feeling it on the palm of my hand after having just been outside in the freezing weather.
I bring it close to my face and sniff. Smells pretty good actually.
Carefully, I sip from the mug, expecting a blast of bitterness, but am pleasantly surprised when it tastes buttery and rich and sweet.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Wow.”
“Right?” She laughs and then I hear another clink. “I’m in love. Even my son loves it and he hates anything good.”
I smile at her words. “You have a lot of kids?”
“Only Weston. He started college this past fall.”
The pride in her voice warms my heart.
“Can I see your phone?” Gwen asks. “There are settings to help you. I’d like to activate them for you.”
While still holding the hot mug, I grab the phone and reach toward the sound of her voice. She takes it from me and studies it quietly for a moment.
“Currently, the feature to unlock it is using your face. Unfortunately, anyone could snatch it, hold it up in front of you, and unlock it. I’d like to put a voice activated unlocking feature on it. Is that okay with you?”
We spend the next half hour or so going through all the parts of the phone she thinks are useful to me and activating the accessibility for visually impaired people like myself.
By the end of it, I am able to unlock the phone with my code, “toffee,” access the internet by voice, send texts verbally, and have my phone read me any page or app I navigate to.
I’m excited to actually be able to use it.
“I’ve plugged my phone number in here,” Gwen says as she slides the phone back over to me. “You’re more than welcome to call or text me any hour of any day.”
“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
I’m not sure what it costs to have someone like Gwen working with you, but I’m thankful money never seems to be a problem with our family.
I’ve overheard Uncle Atticus and Dad talking before about stock performance and interest rates.
Apparently, Dad did well as a young man and invested in high-earning accounts that we’re able to live on.
Uncle Atticus keeps an eye on it all since he has access to the internet.
“So today I wanted to just go over a schedule. I worked late last night getting all this information together. After our meeting today, I’ll let you get tested to assess your disability level so we can assign the proper program for you.
However, despite the level of vision impairment you actually have, the programs run very similar for everyone.
” Papers rustle and then she taps the page.
“Okay, so I’d like for you to use your phone and add these items into the calendar for next week. It’ll be good practice for you.”
Though it’s a bit stressful for me, Gwen walks me through adding my “orientation and mobility” therapy on Mondays.
We’ll learn how to use what she calls a “white cane,” something called echolocation basics, terrain awareness, and other mobile practices like walking routes and navigating stairs.
Tuesday, we do tech training. It’s more of what we learned today using devices and my phone.
Wednesday sounds kind of boring but necessary.
We’ll cook, do laundry, organize for systems that work for us, and lots of labeling.
I’m already kind of used to this with all the extensive chores I was expected to do at home.
Thursday is when I’ll learn Braille and how to use other low vision tools like magnifiers or contrast overlays.
Since my vision is so dark and nearly gone, I don’t think the tools are going to work for me, but I don’t mention it to her.
It’ll be nice to read a book without having one of my siblings or Mom read it to me.
Finally, on Friday, we’ll do a “teen circle” and share our fears and grief as we adjust to our vision loss.
It’s more or less a support group. I’m eager to make friends but nervous to talk about deeper stuff.
“Now that we’ve handled that,” Gwen says, voice cheery, “I want to take you to our onsite cafeteria. They have the best enchiladas and that’s what’s on the menu for today. I’ll show you around so you can navigate the space freely and on your own.”
I’m already feeling more independent and empowered than when I woke up this morning.
This is going to be amazing.
Retinitis Pigmentosa. Or RP if it’s too much of a mouthful to say. It’s strange to finally have a name for my condition. After speaking with the doctor about it, I excused myself to the restroom and used my phone to research the internet about it. I also needed a minute to process the news.
It’s a progressive genetic disorder, which means gradual vision loss over time.
Makes sense as to why I could see colors and shapes as a small child, but it eventually turned into mostly blurs of shapes and inability to tell dark from light.
Now it’s dark mostly all the time, and from what I’m learning, it’s not going to get any better.
The thing that struck me the most was that stress can cause the condition to progress more rapidly, which explains why it worsened so quickly after Jace and that whole nightmare.
My future is complete blindness.
Despite knowing in my heart that was the outlook, it still hurts me.
I guess I can tell the other patients all about it during “teen circle.” It’s slightly comforting to know others are like me that I can connect with.
At least they’ll understand the frustrations of it.
Learning these skills for my independence are more important than ever.
When I exit the bathroom, Gwen is waiting for me. I smell her before I sense her. She pulls me to her for a hug, and a dam breaks inside of me. I burst into tears and allow my new ally to hold me. Eventually, after she hands me a wad of tissues, I dry my eyes and put myself back together.
“Come on,” Gwen says, voice tender. “Let’s grab some more coffee while you wait for your ride.”
As soon as we enter her office, I smell something other than her floral perfume or the toffee coffee. It’s masculine. A cologne, but not as intense as Wild’s. It’s actually pleasant.
“Weston,” Gwen cries out. “What a surprise!”
A deep voice chuckles and I imagine they’re hugging. I can’t help but smile over at them.
“Damn, Mom. You didn’t tell me your patients were so hot. I’d come visit more often.”
My cheeks burn and I shift awkwardly on my feet.
“Oh, stop. Don’t be a menace,” she says to him. “This is Destiny. Destiny, this is my son, Weston.”
The smell grows stronger and my skin prickles with awareness. I’m sensing he’s close, towering over me much like my brothers do.
“Nice to meet you,” Weston murmurs, voice closer than I expect. “Have you been crying?”
I lift my hand, wondering if he’s trying to shake mine. A massive, warm hand envelops mine and he gives it a friendly squeeze. “Just found out I can’t see.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Like just now? What a surprise.”
A small giggle escapes me. “I had no idea. I’m so bummed now.”
“Mom, learn to warm a lady up first before you drop bad news on her. Sheesh.”
Gwen chuckles at our exchange. I realize I’m still holding Weston’s hand. With more heat flooding my cheeks, I tug my hand free and stuff it in my jeans’ pocket.
“Destiny’s waiting on her ride, but I thought we could have coffee first. Want some, honey?”
Weston makes a gagging sound. “Pass. Got a Coke instead?”
As Gwen busies herself, I carefully step toward where I remember the seating area to be.
My shin bumps the coffee table, letting me know I’m close.
I shimmy around it and sit on the sofa. Then Weston plops down beside me.
He’s a big guy, much bigger than me, and I nearly collapse into him since he’s so close and weighing the cushion down.
“Sorry,” I choke out, scooting a bit farther away.
“I’m not.”
The flirty tone in his voice sends butterflies dancing in my belly.
He doesn’t give off terrible vibes like Jace did.
Plus, he’s Gwen’s son. I bet he’s a great person.
As terrifying as it is, I make a vow to myself that I’ll give these people a fair shot to be my friends.
I’m tired of letting my fear control me.
“This looks painful,” Weston says, gently touching my wrist and turning it upward. “Get in a fight while chopping veggies?”
I appreciate him making light of it.
“Something like that.”
“Put my number in your phone,” he says softly. “Maybe you can tell me about it sometime.”
I think I’d like that.