by K. S. Adkins
An hour before sunset, our captain brought the boat around and I watched Time look at her waterfall committing it to memory. Coming up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and ask her if she’s ready. Quietly she says she is and turns to head toward the boat.
“To marry me, Time. Are you ready?”
“Wait, now?”
“No time like the present.”
“But,” she sputters adjusting her top. “I’m wearing a bikini!”
“And you look sexy as hell too,” I point out.
“Will it even be legal?”
“We’ll worry about that later,” I tell her while moving her in position. Placing her at the edge of the grass, I turn her slightly to the right careful to not obstruct her view. Coming to stand at her left, I take her hand and we both watch the captain (who is also a minister) take his place in front of us.
“Drum,” she whispers. “We don’t have vows.”
“We’ll wing it,” I assure her. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind.”
“But you’ve had time to think of yours,” she says nervously. “If I screw this up…”
“Not possible,” I tell her. “We’re ready,” I announce and when the captain started to speak, I felt her relax. She was ready, that was Time, ready for anything.
Per my request, he kept it simple. He spoke loud enough to be heard over the waterfall and we both listened to his words with wide eyes and open ears. Asking for the rings, I reach into my pocket and smile when her breath catches. If she hadn’t realized I had this planned in advance, this would do it. Handing her my band, I keep hers between my fingers and with paradise surrounding us, I begin my vows.
“Wherever you go, I will go. Whatever you face, I will face. When you fall, I will catch you. When you cry, I will comfort you. I promise to be your navigator, your compass, you will never be lost. Through the difficult and the easy, my eyes are your eyes. You will never be without sight.”
Crying in earnest she watches as I slip the band on her finger. Pulling it together she looks up at me, takes a deep breath and smiles. “You’re really good at this,” she says letting out another breath. Then tightening her grip and in a sure voice she gives her vows back to me. “You make an ordinary day extraordinary. You’ve helped me conquer challenges presented and are preparing me for those to come. Through the difficult and the easy, we’ll never be without sight. If life ever gets dark, I’ll take your hand and show you the way.”
“Time…” I whisper overcome by her words, her everything.
“I never thought,” she starts. “Then I saw you…You’re just…”
“Tell me.”
“My dream come true,” she says launching herself into my arms. Holding her close, giving her the time she needs to get herself together she looks over at the captain and asks, “Is he my husband now?”
“He is.”
“And I’m his wife?”
“You are.”
“I’m married,” she whispers. “I’ll never forget this.”
She had no idea how much I was counting on that.
Hours later, when she waited for me to make love to her, I honored her request to undress slowly. Coming up to her elbows she whistles loud and winks at me. Standing there butt-naked I ask her, “What are you grinning at?”
“Is my vision distorting things or is your dick really that big?”
Looking down at my hard on, I take in hand and grin. “Big huh?”
“Huge even,” she winks.
“Time,” I say crawling above her. “You aren’t seeing things. My dick is that big.”
“Oh,” she says biting her lip.
“And it’s going to get bigger.”
Her eyes on me were heavy and assessing. She was committing my body, my dick, to memory. When her breath hitched, I gave her my weight and gave myself a mental high five. The second I slid inside of my wife and she moaned my name. I returned the favor.
Drum wasn’t a husband but a drill sergeant. Albeit a clever one. For every new piece of technology brought home, he’d use sex as a motivator. I can’t say it wasn’t brilliant because it was. Some of his methods I resisted. Fine, I didn’t resist as much as I refused. But he was insistent I at least try them.
My vision was too far gone for any visually impaired computer software and I hated the home telephone he installed. The buttons were so large I swear I needed my fist to punch the numbers in. My argument was I had no one but him to talk to and could easily use my cell but I promised to try and I did.
It did not mean I liked it.
But it did mean I was rewarded with lots and lots of sex.
For me, the tradeoff was worth it.
For him, he got laid a lot and was becoming more confident in my abilities.
Drum also liked playing the husband card. He was under the impression marriage meant submission. He was also under the impression his word was law. It wasn’t. Yes, I was agreeable to some things but not to others. If he told me one more time that he knows what’s best for me, I was going to choke him.
After a few weeks of butting heads, we agreed we needed an adventure.
He chose dinner, I chose ice skating.
Looking back on it, blades on my feet was not my brightest idea but at least I could say I’ve done it. Drum could say he only had to get seven stitches versus the fifty he thought he’d need. The nurses will tell you what I already knew. Drum was a horrible patient.
So while we stood in line at the county building where I was impatiently waiting to register my sight loss, I was at the end of my rope. This was his idea. Granted, he’s never encouraged any of his patients to do it, he thought it would be a good idea for me. Even though he was my doctor and able to pull strings on my behalf he wanted all of our bases covered. I agreed with that but I was sick of standing here.
When my name was called, we moved forward and within forty five seconds it all went downhill.
The clerk handed me a stack of papers to fill out. Sliding them back for no other reason than to be a bitch I said, “Try again.”
“You need to fill those—”
“You do know I’m going blind, right?” I snap. “I can’t see it to fill it out.”
Uncomfortable with my attitude she scurries behind a counter to whisper to a co-worker. “You do know I’m registering for sight loss and not hearing loss don’t you? I made that clear when I signed in, right?”
“Time,” Drum says gently. “She’s just doing her job.”
“No, she isn’t,” I retort. “And you know what? I’m being a good sport but other people might not have you to help them. Handing a visually impaired individual a stack of papers that require a fucking magnifying glass to read isn’t doing her job, it’s passing the buck.”
“Good point.”
“Thank you,” I smile up at him.
When she comes back she brings reinforcements. This was fine considering I was in a foul mood. From her dirty looks and lazy attitude I was done. “Ma’am,” the new lady starts. “Let’s walk you through the paperwork before we discuss benefits.”
“Sure,” I mumble wanting this over with.
Twenty minutes later she wrapped up a Q&A that should have taken five and my stomach was growling. Drum, the trooper that he was, took my hand to help me calm down. It worked. Until she offered me a disabled parking permit.
“Are you trying to push me over the edge right now?”
“No,” she says cooly. “The parking permit is for whomever may be driving you. It’s a courtesy to you, ma’am.”
“Oh,” I sniff. “Okay then, put me down for one of those.”
“Time,” he chides me. “Be nice.”
“Would you believe I get like this when my sugar gets low?” I ask her.
“You don’t have sugar,” he reminds me.
And you wonder why I love the man?
I was sitting in my office staring at the white wall thinking about my wife. How much I loved her, how much I hated l
eaving her and wishing my mother had lived to see this. My mother would have been inspired by Time. Where my father is abrupt and generally a dick, my mother was all things gentle and understanding. My parents had loved each other. She saw something in him no one else did.
Outside of her, he was difficult to manage but she always could.
My mother deserved better than him.
In the end, she died alone.
I hated him for it.
“Knock knock,” she says from the door.
I was up and out of my chair before she could take her next breath. Kissing her hard, she runs her hands up my arms and links her fingers behind my neck. “I think my husband missed me,” she laughs.
“I was just thinking about you,” I mumble into her lips.
“Yeah? What about?”
“You. Naked. Riding me. There was moaning involved.”
“Does your door lock, Drum?” Moving her back two steps, I reach behind her and engage it. “Shall I service you in your chair, doctor?”
“You can start by freeing me.”
Pushing me toward my chair, when I back into it she unbuttons my lab coat to get to my slacks. Unzipping the front, she reaches in and frees me as requested. “Sit down, doctor,” she orders.
Taking my seat, I watch her slide her leggings down and step out of one side. Straddling me she palms my cock and proceeds to give me a stellar hand job. I stared down at her hands, up at her face and when the ecstasy took me I looked up at the ceiling. Time was right, the white was depressing. Grabbing her hips, I move her over me to prepare her for what’s to come. “Ride me,” I moan when she tugs my balls. “Do it before I come.”
“The things I do for my doctor,” she sighs.
“Look at me.” Snapping her head up our eyes lock and she smiles. “I love you, Time.”
“I love you, Drum,” she says so fucking sweetly that when she slid down my shaft, I almost lost it. With a steady pace, I watched her bounce, rotate, and grind. Grabbing her tits, she covers my hands with hers and moves even faster.
“Shit,” I growl. “I’m not going to last.”
“Me either,” she moans as her orgasm hits and when she leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t just come, I blew. Falling forward she rests her head on my shoulder to catch her breath.
Running my hands up and down her back and once my own breathing calmed I asked her, “How’d you get here?”
“Bus.”
“We discussed this,” I remind her.
“Actually, you did all the discussing while I pretended to listen.”
“Public transportation isn’t safe,” I point out.
“We just had a nooner in your office,” she says squeezing me. “Shut up and enjoy it.”
I shut up and enjoyed it.
Being married was the adventure I never saw coming, one I never thought would be mine to have. But as the last few months have proved, it’s been the adventure of a lifetime. Drum has made my visual dreams a reality. He’s also made me fall in love with him more every day.
Though I started a journal memorializing each memory, it’s still bittersweet to know that one day that’s all they’ll be.
A memory.
Images stored in my mind because I won’t be able to flip through a scrapbook or pick up a picture. I’ll have to rely on my memory, and his. Drum takes being my eyes very seriously, the man misses nothing. When I ask him to describe something, he does in great detail. Lately, my vision has been unpredictable. There are days where the world around me is vivid and others where it is dark and dull. Like a black cloud is hovering around the edges of my eyes and it’s pissing me off.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t let this be the focus of our marriage. That I wouldn’t rely on him, he would never be burdened by my limitations. Trust me, lately that’s all I have. Even right now as I attempt to sort laundry, clothes I can feel but cannot make out the colors of. My clothing is fairly easy to figure out since I’ve kept the same clothing for ages for this very reason. It’s his clothes I struggle with. His polo shirts that I know are each colorful yet I can’t tell what that color is.
I’ve stopped asking him about it. Holding up a shirt I would say this is navy right? And his eyes would flinch in pain when he would say no, it’s burgundy. This was hurting him as much, if not more, than it was hurting me. I shouldn’t complain about seeing the world in grey because that meant I could still see, but there are times…
I just wanted to be normal.
I wanted him to come home and not worry that I hurt myself, that he didn’t need to check my eyes, that this fucking disease wasn’t the first thing on the tip of his tongue.
I just wanted to be his wife.
Stowing away the frustration, I folded the clothes not caring what color they were. I needed to get ready for our date. Drum wanted to take me to a show downtown, that was outdoors… at night. He was so excited when he found out about it, can’t stop talking about it so I decided nothing would stop me from going. I would enjoy it because Drum would enjoy it. That even though I couldn’t see it (because those glasses were a one shot deal), I could hear it and I need to adjust to this type of thing eventually.
Even though our relationship went from a handshake to a wedding, it worked for us. We had the rest of our lives to get to know the nuts and bolts of each other, but the foundation was there from the start. We provided something for each other, it didn’t have a title I could think of, but for me it was a knowing.
I had about an hour before he came home, so when the phone rang and it was the vendor I use to sell a lot of my work, I was glad Drum wasn’t there to hear it. The very last thing I ever wanted him to be was disappointed in me. But frankly, no one was more disappointed than I was.
The vendor had secured three venues to display my work, had already bought the pieces in advance. However, I never completed them. Weeks ago, I put my brush down never picking it back up.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t identify the fucking colors to paint.
But Drum doesn’t know that. He thinks I’m painting my pathetic heart out while he’s at work. Explaining to him that I would refund his deposit he asked if I had any similar pieces done, which luckily I did. He gladly offered to use those until I finished the others saving both our asses.
I thanked him and agreed knowing I was full of shit.
I was no longer an artist.
I was no longer anything.
My disease was winning.
Tonight she was quiet, a million miles away. Knowing Time, she was probably off somewhere in a world full of color that only her mind could create. She assured me that outside of bad days she was still able to paint. She also said work had her so busy she ventured out less and less. I wanted to believe her, take her at her word but I wasn’t convinced and it bothered me that I was questioning my wife. To be fair, I didn’t grill her about it because I wasn’t exactly being truthful either. Yes, I went to work every day but I had something bigger in the works and it wasn’t the right time to tell her yet.
After parking, I take her hand as we make our way to the grass to find ourselves a seat. Time loved music, I loved Time and I had hoped bringing her to an outdoor concert would be the catalyst for her to rekindle her love for the night. Yes, she lost her night vision but she couldn’t deny the night forever. I refused to let her shut out the things she loved because she couldn’t enjoy them like she once did.
My goal was to help her find a new way to enjoy them, with me.
Normally she relaxed into me, trusting me to gauge our surroundings but not tonight. Time was tense, sitting ramrod straight and when the music started it scared the shit out of her. Slowly, with my help she was able to relax enough that I saw her fingers tapping to the beat on her knee. Tonight was a blues review; it was energetic but extremely loud. “Are you thirsty?” I ask in her ear.
“I’m okay,” she says kissing my cheek.
For another half hour we listened and I watched her smile, t
hen finally she relaxed into me I was able to fully relax too. When the crowd behind us started to get rowdy, Time started to retreat. Before I could suggest we leave, drinks went flying landing on us and those around us. Standing her up, the crowd started to shift and I cursed myself for bringing her here. Who the fuck starts a fight at an outdoor concert?
People started to push, blankets were ruined and mass chaos ensued. Time was gripping my hand as I fought to get us through the crowd. She was pushed from behind, the force breaking us apart sending her to the ground. She got up quickly, but as long as I live, I would never forgive myself.
For those few precious seconds my wife was lost. Not only that, she was terrified. Her eyes were darting, seeking something familiar to cling to but finding nothing. Her hands were a defense and a guide. Locking her to my side I reminded her she was safe. That I had her, that nothing would happen to her while I had her.
Back at the car, I paused before putting her inside. “Talk to me,” I order her. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she says trembling uncontrollably. “I’m not hurt.”
“Are you—” I try.
“I want to go home,” she snaps. “Now.”
“Okay,” trying to calm her enough to get her home. Only when we got home, she refused to be calm. Instead she shut right down, which was worse. “Time, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says looking straight ahead.
“Maybe not but I just wanted you to—”
“I know,” she says tightening her fists. “You wanted to help. You wanted me to get out of the house. You wanted me to see the night was as wonderful as I remembered, but it wasn’t.”
“Shit,” I mumble.
“Did you even want to go to that concert or was this another experiment to see how I’d hold up?”
“Jesus, Time…”
“We have never once done anything that you like to do. What do you even like to do? You’ve never said! This can’t always be about me! Quit trying to fucking save me!”
