Chapter 11
TIAGO
“So. You’re here.” My father’s voice was flat and unimpressed, and I wasn’t sure why I expected different.
I guess a small part of me thought I’d get an apology when everyone realized I was left behind at the ferry, but I’d been met with stoic silence as I hovered in the alcove that led to the living room.
“I’m here. I had to catch a ride,” I said. The room had at least five adults, but from where I was standing, I couldn’t make anyone out.
“I figured you’d take an Uber.” Ah. Thierry. The fucker.
“A text might have been nice,” I told him, turning in his direction. “Considering you said you’d be picking me up.”
There was another laugh, and I recognized the nasal sound as the youngest—Peter. I hadn’t seen him since his wedding six years ago after his fiancée tried to convince him that having me there would be more trouble than it was worth.
In the end, Peter asked me to stand with him, but I knew it was because he expected a big gift out of me. I was, after all, the one in the family who had all the money.
He got a check because I had the cash to spare, but I hated myself a little for it.
“Can I just go put my things down?” I asked after more silence. I was starting to feel like a goddamn circus attraction.
“Yes, honey.” Ah. Mom. “You’re sharing a room with Oliver.”
I was sharing. With the teenager.
Amazing.
My fingernails dug into the handle of my cane. “I see.”
“He’s in there now,” Thierry said unhelpfully. “You can stop making that face. He’s not that bad.”
Oliver was seventeen, and we hadn’t spoken face-to-face since he was maybe ten, if that. Back then, he looked a lot like our side of the family—like my mom with her very thin lips and small, round nose—but he had his mother’s scowl.
I took another deep breath and wondered how badly the room would erupt if I asked them to give me a tour of the house. If I mentioned even for a second how much I couldn’t see, my dad would probably leave the house.
As it was, I knew he was probably glowering at my cane and wondering when I was going to put it away.
After a short forever, there was a groaning sigh. “Come on, I’ll show you to the room.”
That was…Anne. It took me a second to recognize Thierry’s wife. A second later, she stepped mostly into my line of sight, and I was startled because he hadn’t told me just how pregnant she was. She looked like she was about to burst, but I wasn’t going to say that.
My social skills sucked even before they were corrupted by a hockey locker room, but even I knew better than that.
“Do you…want my arm?” she asked very slowly.
I folded my cane and tried to ignore the collective breath of relief from the entire family as I tucked it into my carry-on bag and then grabbed my suitcase handle.
“I could use a few more lights on, but otherwise, it’s fine. I can follow you.”
Anne stepped ahead of me, bare feet tapping on the tiles, and then the hallway brightened up a bit.
“Turn that shit off!” my dad bellowed.
The corridor went dim again, and I lost all sight. Fantastic. “Okay. Verbal instructions are fine, then.”
Anne’s feet stopped moving. “You…you really need that?”
I tried not to put my fist through the wall as I pulled the suitcase behind me. “It does help me not to walk into things.”
She was quiet for a beat, then started walking very slowly. “Your eyes, um…I thought bright lights hurt them.”
Had I even talked about it with her ever? Or had she done research? I knew Thierry hadn’t told her anything because he was a jackass, and my parents would die pretending like I was just being dramatic.
“So, my retinas are dying,” I told her. “Actually, I lost all my light perception in my right eye.”
There was a long pause, and then she said, “Oh. When?”
“Recently. After my surgery.”
“Did the surgery—”
“No,” I told her quickly as she and I both came to a stop. I’d had my elbow against the wall, and suddenly, there was no wall left. “It wasn’t from the surgery. It’s just the nature of my disease.”
“There are treatments though, right?” Her voice sounded tense. “Like…stem cells and maybe some experimental medications, and—”
“Anne,” I said very softly, “it’s a shitty disease, okay? And I appreciate someone in the family actually taking ten seconds to give a shit after all these years. God knows my parents probably think that my RP is some sort of curse because I’m my mom’s family shame baby…”
“No one thinks that.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You don’t have to protect my feelings, alright? I grew up with this. I have spent every second of my formative years aware that my existence was unwanted.”
She said nothing, and I felt a small twinge because it was nice, for a second, with her almost defending me. But I knew better than to think one of the people who’d married into the family would take my side.
“Anyway, it is what it is. There are experimental treatments, and I got most of them, and they didn’t work. My vision plateaued for a while, but over the last couple of years, it’s gotten worse and worse. I’ll probably be totally blind by next year.”
She sucked in a breath, then cleared her throat. “How old are you, Tiago?”
“Thirty-two. Why?”
“Thirty-two,” she whispered.
“Anne, is there something—”
“Well. Here’s Ollie’s room,” she said, a little too loudly. God, that was fucking weird. She knocked on the door and leaned her head in close. “Ollie, your uncle is here. I hope you have pants on.”
I grimaced as she opened the door, and to my great relief, bright light spilled out.
I was able to get a look at the room, which was pretty massive for this beach house.
There were two double beds against either wall and a dresser between them.
There was a TV mounted and another darkened doorway, which I assumed led to a bathroom.
On the bed by the furthest wall was a shadowy figure I assumed was my nephew. He was clearly tall from the way his feet stretched all the way to the end of the bed, and he had one arm flung over his face. I could hear faint music, which I took to mean he had headphones on.
“Just, ah…just…hang on,” Anne said. She moved past me, and a moment later, I heard a shout.
“Mom! What the fuck!”
“Language. And your uncle is here.”
“Uhg. Can’t you put him with the twins?”
I bristled. The twins. Peter’s two, who were three years old. It occurred to me suddenly that toddlers were getting their own room, and I was being asked to encroach on a teenager’s space.
This was fucked in every direction.
“Listen, I think I should probably just get a rental,” I started.
Anne whipped her head toward me. “You’d never be able to find one in summer. And Ollie can be nice to his uncle for a few days—”
Ten days. Not a few days. I shook my head. “Anne, it’s fine. Trust me when I say I have people who can find me a place to stay at the last minute.”
I couldn’t see her face clearly enough to read her expression, but I could see her shoulders stiffen. “All that money, and you couldn’t find a treatment to fix you.”
I don’t know why that hurt. If there was a treatment to reverse it or stop it, I would have taken it. I wasn’t going to lie about that. But the way she said it made it sound like I was fucking terminal.
Like I hadn’t been living my best life. Like there wasn’t more of my best life to live, even if I couldn’t fucking see it.
“Being blind is the reason I have that kind of money,” I said, pushing past the door and dropping my bag on the empty bed. “Not sure I’d trade that.”
Oliver snorted and muttered something like, “Yeah fucking right,” before rolling away from me.
Anne sighed. “We’re going to be watching a movie if you want to join us.”
“I think I’m okay.” I could be obnoxious and join them where I clearly wasn’t wanted, but I wasn’t in the mood. It was bad enough knowing most of my family didn’t want me here at all.
I wasn’t really up for having my nose rubbed in it.
Tomorrow, I’d do my best to figure out why the fuck Thierry had insisted I come. Why he made it sound like my parents were desperate to have me here when it was clear I was still the family pariah.
Leaning forward, I pressed my hands over my face and fought the urge to scream into my palms. “If you want the lights off—”
“I don’t,” Oliver snapped. I heard him shuffle around, and then he asked, “We don’t have to, like, catch up or whatever, right?”
I dropped my hands to my thighs and laughed. “No, kid. We don’t. And I’m going to make some calls tomorrow so I can get myself a separate place to stay.” Pushing up to my feet, I stretched my back. “And right now, if you’re cool with it, I’m going to take a shower.”
Oliver grunted, so I took that as a yes and grabbed my smaller case, heading for the bathroom door. Just before I slipped inside, I heard him make a noise, and I froze.
“Sorry to be a dick.” His voice was flat, so I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, but he was also a teenager, so I wasn’t going to hold that against him.
I turned to face him. “It’s not your fault. I would have been pissed off too.”
He was quiet again, and then he sighed. “My mom’s not going to like it if you leave. She thinks we should get to know each other.”
“Well, your mom’s not my boss, so she can kiss my ass. You’re nearly an adult. You deserve your own space.”
“Thanks,” he said very softly.
I smiled at him, then stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I kept the light off. The darkness was comforting, and I’d been practicing bathroom routines with my eyes shut for the last couple of years, so I wasn’t afraid of it anymore.
I wanted to sit with my feelings and only my feelings.
I assumed tonight I’d be able to crawl into bed, put my hand on my dick, and relive the moment on the ferry with Aravind. Instead, I’d stepped into hell, and now I was determined never to let my family talk me into anything like this ever again.