Diamond Eyes

by A. A. Bell

  ‘Until when...?’

  ‘Until my father died when I was twelve. Not long after, the first ghost people appeared. I buried him under the vegetables, and I lived here — just me and the chickens and the ghost people — until the invisibles came to take me away. I wonder what happened to my hens? Escaped into the forest, I guess. My father never caged them; he just had a low fence that kept them in well enough so long as we kept their wings clipped.’

  ‘Tell me more about your parents? There’s no mention of them in your file, except a brief note that your father had died about a year or two before you were admitted to your first orphanage. It must have been very hard for you, living here alone for so long. Didn’t you have any friends or relatives?’

  Mira shrugged. ‘If I do, I’ve never met them. Except for ghosts and invisibles, I haven’t seen another living being since my father died — aside from the chickens and wildlife. A goanna used to come to eat the chickens’ eggs sometimes, and a family of wallabies often visited me from the forest.’

  ‘I have dune wallabies near my house too. That’s still a recipe for loneliness, though, Mira.’

  She nodded. ‘I could write the Braille book on loneliness, but it would be a horror story and page one would start the day I left here.’

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘Well, I think I was nearly nine. Soon after I started to lose my own sight, my father told me thatshe’d turned into a seagull and flown away. I don’t know what the truth is. All I remember is that she was very short-sighted, much worse than I was before the blue fog came. He made all the notches for her, to help her get around more easily.’

  ‘That was clever of him. Makes sense too: Fragile X syndrome is usually inherited from the mother. Perhaps she just wandered off and got lost. Disorientation is a common symptom. How soon was it then before your father died?’

  ‘I’m not sure. A year, maybe two.’

  ‘And then you lived here alone for a year at least after he died... before the invisibles — people like me — came?’

  She nodded again. ‘Two winters and the summer in between.’

  ‘Didn’t anybody notice you missing from school?’

  ‘My father stopped me from going to normal school when the world started to turn blue. He taught me in a little stone church over the hill that used to be a school in the convict days but I learned more from the ghost teacher than from him. I told you about that already, didn’t I? The ghost town is part of this property, but it’s in ruins now. A few days before the invisibles took me, I saw two ghost boys arsoning around all the buildings.’

  He smiled at her misuse of the noun. ‘They burned it down?’

  ‘I couldn’t stop them.’

  ‘All the better, Mira. If the ghost people are real in my world too, we should find burned ruins there that are invisible to you but visible to me — if that makes sense. We can visit there next time, when we have more time.’

  ‘Oh, yes, please!’

  ‘Tell me more, though. You’ve hooked me. What happened the day the invisibles came?’

  ‘Which day do you mean? They came many times before and after my father died. Sometimes they were only voices out on the water. Sometimes they drove in here, lost, or they asked to walk through the gardens. None of them bothered me much. But eventually some came asking for my father — they said he owed money for unpaid land taxes or something. Then I heard them discover his grave and soon afterwards the whole place was swarming — with ghosts and invisibles. Too many of everyone, and no room left for me. I really did start to feel crazy then.’

  ‘No wonder. And that’s when they took you to the orphanage?’

  ‘That’s when an invisible woman tackled me, but I tripped and fell out of the tree. I don’t really know where they took me after that. When I woke up, a whole new bunch of invisibles said it was a hospital, but they blindfolded me. My whole body hurt, and they said it was because I’d broken nearly every bone, including both of my eye sockets. Then they shifted me to a new place — I don’t think it was an orphanage either. I was always by myself, in an invisible room high in the clouds over an old village. Don’t laugh! Everything in my room was invisible, including the floor, the furniture — even my food and toilet! At first I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, but you’re not supposed to feel pain in heaven, are you? Or frightened? And I certainly don’t think you’d need a toilet!’

  ‘I’d hardly think so.’

  ‘I didn’t know what to think. It was terrifying. Honestly, I was so high in the sky, one day I even saw a little ghost plane with propellers fly through my room. But I couldn’t see anything that was holding me up there. I had to feel my way around to make sure I didn’t crawl off an invisible edge. And I couldn’texplain what I was seeing — not even to myself — without sounding as if I was stark raving crazy. I screamed myself hoarse every day for weeks in that place, begging them to let me back down to the ground, but they were deaf to me.’

  ‘That’s when they sent you to the Serenity Centre?’

  ‘Not right away. They shuffled me to a few different places, all at different heights in the air, until they finally sent me to live in the jail.’

  ‘Old jail,’ he said, correcting her.

  ‘They made me walk in air there too, at first. And the things that happened in each of my rooms were horrible. They wouldn’t let me wear a blindfold to make it less painful, either. Some light really does get in. I tried ripping my clothes and sheets to make my own blindfold, but they kept taking them away from me. Do you understand now? I didn’t want to see anymore, no matter if it was real or hallucinations. So I begged the invisible called Freddie Leopard to stop me from seeing anything. Actually, I begged him to cut out my eyes completely, but he told me that he already knew what he had to do.’

  ‘Why did you trust him? Especially when, from your perspective, he’s invisible too?’

  ‘I didn’t trust him. I was desperate. I’d reached a stage where I didn’t care if I lived or died. But Freddie was so calm about it. He’s the only one who’s ever understood me; so well that he seems to know my thoughts before I know them myself. Did you know he was in the garden waiting for me the first time I tried to escape? Of course, he tried to convince me that my disability is really an ability that has been deliberately bred into me by Nietzscheans trying to create a race of superhumans — maybe he just meant normal people. But he’s also convinced that if I ever leave the island, I’ll be doomed to a fate worse than death.’

  ‘That sounds like Freddie all right.’

  ‘If this is hell,’ she grinned, ‘I’m moving in.’

  ‘And I’ll carry your luggage. You do know you can trust me now, right?’

  She shrugged and chewed on her lip. ‘To be honest, the only things I can really trust are the things I can hear, smell, touch and control myself, which isn’t much, obviously.’

  She sniffled and swiped a salty tear away from her stitches.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He stepped closer and touched her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t!’ she snapped. ‘Please,’ she added, more kindly, ‘don’t touch me unexpectedly. It scares me.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He retreated a step. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘That’s how they tripped me out of the tree. They crept up on me. And they’ve done it every day ever since — invisibles, I mean.’

  ‘Touch you? Do you mean inappropriately? The same way you meant it at the bus shelter?’

  ‘Tram station, and yes. It is inappropriate, isn’t it, to sneak up on people and touch them? You might as well scream “Boo” in my ear.’

  ‘Phew! I was worried you meant something much worse after all.’

  ‘Sometimes it is worse. I just wish you’d warn me before you touch me. please?’

  ‘Sure, okay. I should have known that anyway. But I’m still wondering what made you look so sad just now?’

  Mira took a long time to regather her composure. ‘If I knew,’ she said, staring bl
indly out over the bay, ‘if I had any idea that I could come back here, even for this short visit, I never would have asked Freddie to make me blind.’

  ‘You’re blind anyway,’ Ben reminded her.

  ‘Only from your perspective. What’s more comforting, though? To be blind or to think I can see my beautiful view even if its through a blue fog?’

  ‘So open your eyes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Open them. I’ll help you. I’ve got a first-aid kit in my car. The stitches and cuts are still fairly fresh, so it shouldn’t hurt much. The matron’s probably going to make you get them taken out soon anyway, so why not do it on your own terms?’

  ‘She can’t force me!’

  ‘She can, actually. As your legal guardian, she can order any surgery that her medical team recommend — as early as tomorrow, if that’s what suits them.’

  ‘And does it? Is that what they’ve got planned for me?’

  ‘Probably. But that’s not the issue, is it? If you want to see your beautiful home from your own perspective, why not do it now, before you have to go back?’

  Mira snatched the sunglasses off her face and held both hands over her eyes like a frightened child. ‘I can’t go back with my eyes open! It’s too. scary, terrifying, paralysing. Those words are all too tame!’

  ‘I think that’s from sensory overload, Mira. I’ve been listening very carefully to everything you’ve told me, and I think your brain is trying to process too much information at once. The doctors called it blindsighted, which, from their perspective, is another way of saying that your brain is very confused about what it can — and thinks it can — process. But either way, I think I can help to fix it, temporarily at least.’

  ‘How? You’re not a doctor. Besides, I already begged for an eye transplant or a lens transplant, but they told me I’m not eligible because of my Fragile X syndrome.’

  ‘Perhaps they didn’t want to get your hopes up. Your file says it’s because there hasn’t been a suitable

  donor yet. Sounds like a bit of both, but this problem with your blindfold isn’t so difficult. I can authorise a generous supply of sticky bandage circles to help keep your eyes closed whenever — and for as long as — you wish when we get back.’

  ‘You can do that?’

  ‘I’ll give you those sunglasses to help keep the strongest light off the bandages as well, if you want.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She dropped her hands from her eyes and turned her face into the playful sea breeze. ‘How can you authorise blindfolds and sunglasses for me now, when they’ve refused to let me have them all these years?’

  ‘Beats me. I was only employed recently by the new matron. Many things are changing, though, Mira. Sometimes it seems like the whole world’s changing and we’re all just trying to adapt. You’re lucky in a way, because you’ve got someone who’s paid to find strategies and activities to help you learn to cope with your disability. And I’m lucky, because that someone is me. So I can authorise anything it takes, within reason, to help you achieve independence.’

  ‘I don’t get it. How does that make you lucky?’

  ‘Two words: job satisfaction. I get to prove to myself that my life can finally mean something, and, as a bonus, I get to hog all of your delightful appreciation to myself.’

  ‘Does that mean the other staff have to obey your orders too? Even your supervisors?’

  Ben nodded, then realised how silly he must look using body language to a blind girl. ‘They surely do. In fact, if I think you’ll learn to cope with your disability faster by having my supervisors deliver your breakfast while hopping, singing and stinging themselves with their own Tasers, they’ll have to do that too.’

  Mira giggled. ‘I’d certainly like to hear that!’

  ‘Later, though, when you’re used to coping with bandages, you’ll have to try opening your eyes more often — at your own pace, when you feel completely safe — and teach yourself to cope with the extra information. Are you okay with that?’

  ‘Maybe. Will you always be this kind to me? Or do you have a dark side that you just manage to hide better than anyone else? Maybe you keep it just for your bad days?’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, Mira, trust me. This is me on a bad day. So how about it? Shall I fetch my first-aid kit?’

  Mira replayed his answer over again in her head, listening for any hint of a lie, but heard only the deep resonance of truth and honesty.

  Slowly, timidly, fighting down a rising fear of the pain, she extended her hand to him, and he took it.

  THIRTEEN

  Freddie crept behind the reception counter, careful to ensure that nobody had seen him enter the administration building.

  From the plastic-wrapped telephone, he removed just enough duct tape from the receiver to be able to speak into it, then keyed the number for call-connect and asked to speak to the minister for police.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ replied a young woman a few moments later. ‘She’s in Parliament today. Perhaps someone else can look into the matter for you? Or may I take a message?’

  ‘Urgently?’

  ‘Your message will be processed within seconds, sir, I assure you.’

  ‘Okay, please tell her that Bennet Chiron rang from the Serenity Centre on Likiba Isle. Have you got that?’

  She repeated his message, then: ‘May I ask what it’s regarding, sir?’

  ‘I was getting to that. It’s about Mira Chambers; the new blind girl? The ransom I want is now half a million.’

  He slammed down the phone and fled back to his secret hideaway, knowing that if that didn’t bring her safely back in time, nothing would!

  FOURTEEN

  Mira sat as still as she could manage on the nose of Ben’s car. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his gentle touch as he pulled out each stitch, but the pain was too much. She clenched her teeth and tried not to flinch.

  ‘Bet you wish you had your sedatives now,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it was getting them.’

  ‘So why did you?’

  ‘I told you I’d reached my limits. Ten years of delusions. Please talk about something else.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything. Like how old are you?’

  ‘Thirty-two.’

  ‘That’s odd.’ She scratched her brow. ‘You sound older.’

  ‘Forced confinement does that to everyone, even you. Two to go,’ he warned as he soaked a stitch-hole with a tissue. ‘Do you need a break?’

  ‘No, please hurry.’

  ‘We’ve still got forty minutes before we have to leave.’

  She didn’t argue. She didn’t want him to see how much he was hurting her, but tears welled in her eyes and the salt made the pain worse. She could feel every twist in the thread as he pulled out the last two of Freddie’s sutures.

  ‘Pus in this one.’

  She felt a burst of pressure relief, then a trickle of fluid on her cheek.

  ‘Keep them closed a bit longer,’ he said, touching a tissue to her face again to clean her up. ‘I can’t use antiseptic cream inside your eyelids, but I’ve got some vials of saline solution.’

  She heard him fumbling through his first-aid kit. Then he cupped the whole left side of her face in his large, rough-skinned hand.

  ‘Lean against me, Mira. I need to tip your head over quite a bit so I can flush out your eyes one at a time. That’s it,’ he added as she obliged. ‘Now hold it there. This is probably going to sting, I’m sorry.’

  The first drop touched her eyelid and burned like acid. She flinched, then felt a thicker stream of water that burned and felt cool at the same time.

  ‘We’re lucky,’ he said, gently wiping off the excess and tipping her head over the other way. ‘There was an infection starting on the inside of that lid — hidden where we couldn’t see it — but it looks as if we got to it in time. Thank goodness your meds were increased to include antibiotics as soon as they found you, hey? Or that coul
d have been really nasty.’

  Mira didn’t know which she hated most: the fact that someone else had the power to force drugs into her body, the burning sensation in her eye now, or the knowledge that the other eye was about to undergo the same treatment. Still, she managed to choke down her cries.

  ‘On this momentous occasion,’ Ben said cheerily, wiping off the excess again, ‘you deserve a drum-roll.’

  Mira heard his hands begin to beat continuously against the car on either side of her hips, like rolling thunder.

  ‘When you’re ready,’ he said, ‘try to open your eyes.’

  She did, ever so slowly, and the familiar blue fog consumed her field of vision.

  ‘Oh my! Your eyes, they’re —’

  ‘Really hurting!’ She squinted, trying to lessen the pain.

  ‘They’re mesmerising, Mira! I’ve never seen anything so —’

  ‘Freakish, I know. That’s what everyone says.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that. I’m not really sure how to describe them. They’re so. beautiful. Like diamonds, I suppose, or frozen water. But each facet is mirrored! I can see dozens of tiny reflections of myself.’

  ‘You’re mad, Ben. My eyes scare everyone away. Why else do you think my father stopped sending me to school?’

  ‘Their loss. I think your eyes are amazing! I think you’re amazing, Mira. I never could have stayed so quiet while someone pulled stitches out of me. I’d have been blubbing like a baby. And I’d have died of starvation in a week if I’d been forced to live here alone as a child. But you did it with your eyes closed, so to speak.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. The blue fog lets me see lots of things.’

  ‘Like what? What can you see now?’

  ‘Everything is the same as the day I left. It’s all blue.’

  ‘Even me?’

  ‘No, silly, not you.’ She clasped both hands gently around his face and explored his thick brow, solid nose and prickly goatee with her fingers. ‘You’re still invisible.’