Chapter 22
Grizzly
The morning started wrong.
It wasn’t even in some dramatic fashion. This kind of wrong was small, accumulating before you could even fully understand what was going on. By the time I realized something wasn't sitting right with my eyes, my vision was completely messed up.
A pressure that hadn't been there when I'd gone to sleep was very much there now, sitting at the center of my vision like it found joy in my discomfort.
I lay still for a while, hopeful it would fade. When I’d first attempted to get up, the quick movement had worsened the darkness shrouding me. It was terrifying in a way I’d never experienced.
With the ceiling above me, I waited to see how long this spell would last. It had happened twice before, both clearing within an hour or so. Sometimes I could get it down to manageable with the right amount of time being still. Sometimes it just… stayed.
My body wasn’t always my friend. And no amount of cajoling would make it any different.
Since I couldn’t see, I had to ask my phone to tell me the time. Once I realized there was no change happening in my field of vision, I called Cheyenne.
“Hey! If you’re calling for my breakfast order, I’ll push Paxton out of the way and marry you tomorrow,” she announced.
I snorted. “No thanks on the proposal. Sadly, I’m nowhere near able to come in today.”
“What’s going on?” Her voice turned serious. “Do you need me to come over? I can help with whatever you need.”
“This isn’t a need help type of situation.” Liar.
“If you’re sure…” Her hesitation was palpable through the phone.
Humming, I continued on without addressing her insistence. “My eyes are giving me a bit of trouble today. I’ll come in later if it gets better. Otherwise, let’s reschedule any meetings I had for later this week or next.”
“I’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry.”
“Thanks, Cheyenne. I appreciate you.”
“As you should,” she teased. “But seriously, rest today. Eat some food. Relax as best you can. Nothing is urgent enough for you to push yourself.”
I agreed to do as she suggested before I hung up. It wasn’t as if I could get away with much more than that— especially without the ability to see.
I managed to get to the bathroom and back without falling over anything. Thank goodness for a tidy room and muscle memory.
Once I was back in bed, I contemplated what to do. I could hear my doctor telling me exactly what I needed. Rest your eyes. No screens. No fine print. No tasks that required the central field to work harder than it already was.
While I wasn't functionally impaired in the ways that mattered for basic safety, the central loss on a day like today had a quality to it that was difficult to describe to someone who hadn't experienced it.
There was a gap where the focus should be, creating a situation where trying to look at an object directly was impossible.
Imagine trying to read a page with a water stain in the middle that moved with your eyes no matter where you aimed them. Yeah, it was that frustrating.
I had been managing things. I knew the parameters. I knew what to do.
What I didn't know, on the bad days specifically, was how to turn the volume down on my own negative thoughts.
This was when the fear had the most room to move.
On ordinary days, I had work to do and people to answer and calls to make.
The industry's general state of motion occupied enough of my brain for fear to be pushed to the back.
It didn't disappear entirely, of course.
I had stopped expecting it to. But it stayed manageable and mostly quiet.
On bad days it was all I could hear.
On bad days it was just me and the stench of fear, with nothing useful to do.
Today in particular, all I could only think about was the time I had left. Three to five years, the doctor had said. Three to five years until the central loss was significant. Until the accommodation switched from being about font size and lighting to harder, more permanent adjustments.
There would be so many things to change. From my home to the way I worked, it would all be different.
I knew people managed this, fully and with their quality of life intact. My doctor had emphasized this. I had listened. I had read the literature. I understood the future wasn’t the catastrophe my fear kept insisting it was.
And yet there was no slowing down the sheer panic coursing through me the more time moved and nothing changed.
I had spent most of my adult life thinking no one would ever care for the softer sides of me. What I should have been preparing for was to find someone to love me unconditionally, through sickness and health just like the wedding vows always claimed.
Who wanted to be saddled with me? Who signed up for this willingly?
And then I thought of Paxton. Of the man who’d been there for me each day, reminding me he liked every part of me. The man who’d researched my condition before subtly adjusting things around me to improve my quality of life.
Before I could think better of it, I called out for my phone to dial his number. He had never seen this version of me. And I wasn't sure I felt ready to show him.
But being alone was its own kind of torture.
It rang three times, then went to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message since I figured he was probably in practice. No reason to bother him or divert his attention. Really, had I stopped to think, I’d have known as much.
Oh well. I’d be fine.
Eventually, I decided enough was enough. I couldn’t stay in bed all day. My body would protest tomorrow if I attempted it.
Plus, the playroom was the one place where the size of the thoughts tended to reduce on its own without me having to work hard to be positive. I had built my room for exactly this. It was more than a Little space. It brought relief when I felt hopeless.
I immediately settled into the nest in the corner. Wells came with me, because there was nowhere else he should be. We were best friends. Family. I needed him today more than ever.
Pulling him to my lap, I leaned back against the wall, body slouching a bit to avoid being horizontal again. I felt around for the weighted blanket Daddy had surprised me with. The shag texture made it easy enough to locate even without being able to see it.
Once I tugged it over my body, calm began to slip in. I pretended Daddy was with me. He’d stroke a hand over my short hair as he whispered sweet words about how perfect I was and how much he cared for me. He’d feed me and help me potty and be everything I needed.
Oh, I wished that was the reality.
As I sat there daydreaming, the headache dulled slowly. It was like turning down the flame from a boil to a simmer.
Sitting in my playroom with my bear and my weighted blanket, I let the bad day be just that: a bad day. Not a bad year or a bad life. One day wasn’t going to destroy me. And tomorrow I would be fine. I would.
Paxton didn't need to know that today had existed. He didn’t need to worry over me when he had other more important things to focus on.
My phone rang with the tone I’d set specifically for Daddy. Holding the phone at an angle, I managed to see the bar to swipe and answer. I was greeted by the sound of his laughter and some guy ribbing him about being whipped.
“Hey, baby. I just got out of practice and saw you called. Everything ok?”
I could feel my throat closing up at the thought of admitting my weakness. Instead of speaking, I squeaked out a noise I’d hoped would tell him everything.
No such luck.
“Baby?” His voice held a note of panic.
I didn’t want Daddy to panic. Forcing the words past my lips, I said, “Rough day.”
“Rough how?”
The noise around him disappeared. He must have gone into a private room or climbed into his car. Something to seclude himself.
“Eyes bad. Hurts, Daddy.”
His gasp came out pained. “Oh, no. I’m all done now. Let me grab some stuff, and I’ll be on my way. Don’t even try to answer the door. I know where the spare key is. Do you have Wells with you?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Good boy. Relax in your playroom. Daddy will be there as quickly as humanly possible.”
I looked at Wells as the call disconnected. What the heck just happened?
Wells had no advice other than to be adorable and sweet. If he could talk, he’d probably tell me he was excited to see Daddy too. ‘Cause we both loved him.
Love.
There it was. The truth of the matter laid out clearly.
If only I knew what the heck to do about it.
I heard when Daddy let himself in. His footsteps moved steadily through the house until I heard the knock on the playroom doorframe.
He took in the room as I watched him. I’d turned to be able to see him when he came in. I wanted to know what he thought.
Daddy took in me with a close eye. I could tell he was trying to see where the pain was and how he could fix it. After a few seconds, he came in and sat down beside me on the floor.
"Hi, baby," he said gently.
"Hi, Daddy.” My voice had come out smaller than I planned. There wasn’t much to do about it. Sick me plus sweet Daddy meant Little Grizzly was in control.
His hand came up to cup my jaw. “How’s your head right now? What’s the pain like?”
"Better now." I pushed my face against his chest.
He hummed in that soft way that always had me smiling. When I pulled away, he had a collection of items waiting for me. I hadn’t even felt him moving around.
There was a bottle of water, a to-go pack of migraine meds, and an ice pack, the soft flexible kind I preferred.
"Daddy,” I whimpered.
“I will always take care of you, baby. It kills me to know you’ve been in pain while I was at practice.
” He paused, waiting until I looked back up at him.
“Which is why I’ve now got a to-go basket by your bed with all the necessities if this happens again.
Meds, water, snacks, and I even got a lucky find at the convenience store. ”
My brain was still trying to catch up to all the wonderful things he’d done and said when he pulled out a small toy. I couldn’t really make out what it was though.
As if he could read my mind, Daddy explained. “This is a tiny plastic bear keychain. Now I know you have Wells, and he’s the beary bestest bear there is. But there’s something special about this little guy that makes him perfect for the days you need me and I can’t be here.”
He took my hand, guiding it over the bear. At first I thought it was to get a feel for it. Like a grounding move to see it without seeing it.
But then he pressed my thumb over a circular area on the bear’s belly. There was a scratchy sound, then Daddy’s voice.
“Hey, baby. I know today is a rough one. Know that I miss you and I’ll be there as soon as I can. You should rest with Wells until I get there. Love you and all your parts. Yours forever, Daddy.”
The tears came hard and heavy. I sobbed, partially from the thought behind his gift, but also because of the words he’d used. Paxton, my Daddy, loved me. He loved all the parts of me— even the ones that were changing.
He pulled me to his chest as I cried, stroking my back as he told me how true the words were over and over. It was like my dream from earlier came to life.
I had no clue how I’d gotten so lucky. What were the odds that a man younger than me, who had a fantastic career ahead of him, with a killer body and a big heart, would want someone who was so far their opposite it wasn’t even funny?
Time passed in a blur of tears, blown noses, and Daddy urging me to drink water. Eventually I tired out enough to stop.
My headache returned from the emotional overload. “Hurt,” I said, pressing a hand to my head.
Daddy helped me take the meds first, then placed the still cool ice pack on my forehead. It instantly relieved some of the pain.
We laid there for a bit, the silence a comfort. It was easy to be there with him. Easy to find contentment despite the pain I was in.
"Do you want to go to bed now? Or maybe move to the couch so I can feed you and we’ll play some music?"
I nodded, tapping his chest twice to let him know I wanted the second option. He knew me well enough to understand. Next thing I knew, he tugged me up to my feet and wrapped my blanket over my shoulders. Wells got tucked in my arms, then I was guided to the living room.
Daddy eased me onto the couch, placing my legs up on the cushions beside me. He tilted my head against the arm, repositioning the ice pack that had fallen off in the move.
“I’ll put on something soothing for now. Then I’ll get you some easy to eat foods. Stay here,” he said.
From there, he did just as he said he would. Gentle jazz music floated through the speakers around the room. A sandwich, some chips, and a cookie were easy enough to get down. And then he was holding me close, like he never wanted to let me go.
I’d never felt so cared for in all my life. My parents had never— to my memory anyway— taken this much time or effort to make me feel loved. Yet Daddy did so happily.
"Can I read to you?" he asked later on.
“Yes, pwease.”
I was still scared, underneath. The fear hadn't gone anywhere. But it no longer felt like a battle I had to fight alone.
He was gone for a few minutes. I heard the quiet sounds of the kitchen from down the hall.
When Daddy came back with a book, he also held a bottle full of warm milk. I made the grabby motion for it. He laughed, then handed it to me as he readjusted everything so he could be beside me.
I found the nipple without looking as soon as he held it close. Sucking gently, the milk came slow and even. All of my previous negative emotions evaporated. I thought about nothing except this exact moment.
Bottle time. Wells and Daddy cuddles. Happy, warm feelings.
I was loved.
Daddy had come in when I needed him. He’d shown up with medicine, a gift, and just the right amount of support to make me not feel like burden. As he read the story, I drifted in and out of awareness.
His finger rubbed against my skin, from my temple down to my chest. He touched me all over, each moment soothing me more and more. It allowed me to sink deeper into my Little mind in the way I so rarely allowed myself.
But I knew I’d be okay with Daddy. He didn’t need me to be big. He didn’t need me to answer questions.
He wanted my good times and my bad.