Different Kind of Beauty

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “About us.”

  “Well, you know what?” I took her hand and squeezed. “Don’t blame yourself. You can’t handle my blindness. I find it really hard myself.”

  “You don’t understand. I’d like to try again, if you would too.”

  “What? Really? Oh, gosh, Maddie, sure.”

  She kissed me then. A slow, long kiss. I could hardly trust it. Maybe this was a dream, maybe I was in heaven. After a minute she spoke again. “I brought you a rose. An official going-out-again present. Smell?”

  I felt a velvety tickle against my nostrils and inhaled a flowery sweetness.

  “I love the way the petals feel.”

  “Me too.” I sneezed twice in a row. “Ow.” I grabbed for my head again.

  “Poor baby.” Maddie chuckled and kissed my forehead. It was all too much for me and I suddenly felt I might cry. Not trusting myself, I lay back again, pretending to drift away into sleep. Maddie kissed my cheek and then no more tangerine Sunrise.

  Oh, Maddie, I thought. And then I really did fall asleep. Not sinking to the bottom like last time. More like floating in a warm, comforting blackness. Floating, floating. I don’t want to be dead, I told the darkness. I can’t be dead yet.

  “Kyle, Kyle, wake up.” Someone shook my shoulder. “I’m so ticked off at you. I told you shouldn’t go out when it was dark.”

  “Hi, Shawna, nice to see you, too.”

  “That’s just it, Kyle. You think as long as you can’t see anyone, it doesn’t matter whether they can see you or not.”

  “Shawna, what are you talking about?”

  “Going out after dark, stupid! It didn’t make any difference to you, getting to Ryan’s house. But for drivers, they can’t see you in the darkness!”

  “Oh, Shawna, my head. Leave me alone, will ya?”

  “I can’t leave you alone. You’re always doing stupid stuff that lands you in the hospital. Everyone thinks you do it on purpose.”

  “On purpose, I got hit by a car?”

  “Well, sure. You went out alone in a storm. And you drank too much when you knew what it could do to your blood sugar. And you wouldn’t even think about joining the teen diabetes group.”

  I paused for a minute. “OK, OK, so I’ll join the support group. Geez, anything to get you guys off my back. But listen, I have to do things on my own. Have to— do you understand? Even if everyone worries. Even though I’m afraid.”

  Shawna didn’t say anything.

  “Every time I step off a curb, Shawna, it’s the scariest thing in the world. Scarier than…” I stopped for a moment, thinking, It’s scarier than facing a snarling German shepherd with bared fangs. I tried a new thought on. Mom and Dad really believed I shouldn’t go out alone. But I needed my independence, so the alternative was…but I’d blown that, hadn’t I? With the O & M instructors, and with everyone, really, I’d been vocal and vehement about my attitude toward dogs. There wasn’t anything I could do to change the past.

  But I had to try. “Shawna, can you give me all the phone numbers of the guide-dog programs? I need to do some fast talking.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Elizabeth and Beauty

  January

  Deb crossed the weeks and days off on the calendar, she was so anxious to have her baby. But I held myself back as I watched the calendar spaces fill. I didn’t want time to pass too quickly, because Beauty was going back to Canine Vision on January fifteenth.

  By New Year’s, Debra was so huge that people kept asking her if she was carrying twins. If that didn’t put her in a bad enough mood, at her January appointment the doctor told her to cut down on salt. She couldn’t even pretend to enjoy her murky-green vegan meals anymore, so she became a full-fledged meatatarian again. Only she claimed then that normal food gave her headaches.

  “Oh, come on,” Mom said to that one. “Your dad eats a bacon-cheese double-meat patty and feels great. You need to get out more, get some fresh air.”

  So, even though it was freezing outside and Deb hated walking anywhere, she came with Beauty and me at least three times a day. January eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth. Not so much because of what Mom had said, but because but she wanted desperately to keep her weight down. Someone had also told her that walking made labor easier, which was important since someone else had said labor would be the worst pain she would ever experience in her whole life.

  That sounded pretty grim to me, but people said stuff like that to Debra all the time. “Get lots of rest—you’ll need it for later.” “You won’t get any sleep for at least the first three months.” “Enjoy your freedom now. Your life will never be the same.” You had to wonder why people had kids at all, or at least second children.

  Even though he was due in mid-February (according to the latest revised ultrasound), everyone at our house but me was becoming more and more excited about this baby. Teal’s room already had baby clothes in the drawers, diapers stacked in the changing table, a stroller parked in the closet and a baby swing with a stuffed bear sitting in it.

  Only I wanted time to stop. But of course it didn’t.

  At our last breakfast together with Beauty, Debra mentioned again that her doctor was worried about her blood pressure being a little high. I couldn’t process half of what she said, because all I could think of was Beauty at that point.

  I wanted to spoil Beauty this one last meal together, to give her crunchy bacon and bits of toast dipped in egg, but instead I gave her kibble and counted one Mississauga, two Mississauga…same as always. I looked at her sitting too straight and tall, her golden eyes watching me, her dark chocolate ears slightly lifted.

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d gotten suckered in again.

  My heart hammered hard in my throat as I realized I couldn’t really separate my feelings about her from the way I felt about the other Beauty. Even though I had tried not to love her, I loved her twice as much. “Go,” I finally told her, and then tried to smile as I listened to the happy crunching. I lay down on the floor beside her watering dish to watch one last time as she lapped up her water. Then she moved over my face to lap me up.

  Mom slammed a cupboard and Beauty startled a bit. “Easy. It’s OK.” I stroked across her head gently, gently. When I stopped she nudged me for more. “No, let’s go out for a walk.” Beauty wagged her agreement enthusiastically.

  But Deb didn’t want to come this time. She said she didn’t feel very well, although I thought she might just be giving me time alone with Beauty.

  Snapped into her leash a few minutes later, Beauty trotted ahead of me, as happy as if it were her birthday. With every step her tail wagged hellos to the world. Hello to the cat hunkered down underneath the neighbor’s car. Hello to the crow cawing at us from the edge of the convenience-store garbage can. Hello to Marnie, my favorite baby-sitting customer, as her mom took her to kindergarten. Hello to Scott as he headed toward school.

  “Hey, Beauty, I’m gonna miss you, girl.” Scott bent down and patted Beauty’s head. Just the way his hand moved over her so gently made tears blur everything in front of me. “You’re tough, Elizabeth,”he continued, and shook his head. “I don’t know how you can do it.”

  Finally, I could feel one tear sliding down my face.

  Scott looked up at me. “Oh geez. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t get why people think I can do this so easily. I hate that. And you think I’m tough? I’m not. I just don’t have a choice. I never have a choice about anything.” I yanked Beauty’s leash and began to run with her.

  “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” Scott called as he chased after me. Finally he caught my coat and pulled me toward him. “Elizabeth,” he said as he hugged me. Then he found my face, held my chin for a moment and kissed me. I didn’t remember to loosen my lips but his mouth felt so soft I felt my own mouth soften. My lips somehow parted and I felt his lips open. Now what? I wondered, somewhere in my head. Now nothing. Beauty whimpered and we finally broke apart. “Call me, just to talk, later,” Scott
said. “You know I’ll always be here for you.”

  Oh, sure! Scott was never there for me—let’s face it. He spent all his time with Gwen. And with his kiss still on my lips, I heard his last line as a goodbye, which made everything worse. But Beauty just trotted away, still waving hello. That’s the trouble with dogs, they don’t ever wave good-bye.

  After she’d done her business, we swung round for home. At the house, her whole body wagged when I slid the van door open. Big noise or not, there was nothing like a car ride to get her all excited. She climbed in and pushed her nose through the partly opened back window. I sat in the back with her, my arm draped around her shoulders, giving Mom the chauffeur’s domain of the entire front seat.

  We drove away, past sights we’d seen together a thousand times, past the hill where I Rollerbladed and fell down, with her scrambling after to rescue me. Would she remember any of this? Would she remember me? I almost wished she wouldn’t, so she couldn’t feel this pain that I felt.

  As we rolled into the Lions Foundation parking lot, we saw trainers walking dogs in the back. I’d always felt a thrill to see them, only not now. “That will be you tomorrow,” I whispered when Beauty raised her ears to study them.

  Inside the building, a huge black Lab greeted us, slowly, calmly. “Hello, Silver,” I said. Silver was a retired guide dog who’d been adopted by one of the trainers. He was often left free to wander the building. He sat back down near the top of the stairs, ready to welcome someone else.

  Mom and I headed for the coordinator’s office. She showed us into the room and got us to sit down on the wooden armchairs. By now my eyes burned and I couldn’t talk, not even to answer her small talk about the weather or how Beauty was doing.

  “OK, so I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” she finally said, and opened the door to leave.

  Mom actually kissed Beauty’s muzzle and held my shoulder for a moment. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”

  Then the door closed behind her and I tried so hard not to cry. Which always makes things worse—same as if you try not to laugh. Beauty licked at me and started to get silly, as if to cheer me up. She dashed around the office, bending down on her front legs, inviting me to play.

  “You don’t understand. I have to say good-bye.”

  I finally dove at her and caught her in a cross between a headlock and a hug. “I’ll always love you, Beauty. Just remember that.”

  And the door opened again. The coordinator snapped on the leash and Beauty trotted away, still wagging her tail.

  “Come on, let’s hurry,” Mom said. She was afraid we’d hear the moment when Beauty was locked in the kennel— her howls of realization as the gate shut—the same way we had with Beauty I. But the building had been renovated, and the kennel was too far away.

  Mom threw her arm around me as if to hold me up and we walked together that way, back to the car. After she climbed into the driver’s seat, Mom pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

  Mom was crying? That made me feel better, for some reason, and I reached over to hug her. But as we clung to each other, crying and hugging, the sound of her cell phone interrupted us.

  “Hello? What! But it’s too early!” Mom paused and I saw her whole face crinkle as she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “No, Debra. You’re both going to be all right. Stay calm. We’re on our way.”

  Kyle

  January

  As misguided as it sounds, maybe getting hit by that car was a lucky thing. It got me Maddie back, and I went to the teen support group as I’d promised Shawna. I even spoke to them about retinopathy and how important good blood-sugar control could be to avoid that kind of complication. Ryan thought my new “do-gooder” thing was just another successful chick-attracting scheme, since Maddie never seemed to leave my side now. But trying to help others actually made me feel better about myself. Less helpless.

  I also ended up at the eye specialist again and when I complained about my shrinking eyes and wearing sunglasses all the time, he suggested special Mylar eye covers. I had to bring him pictures of me with my former, normal eyes and have molds taken, but afterwards, I wore two contact-lens-type covers.

  “I love them,” Maddie told me. “They look just like your old eyes. Except…”

  “Except what?”

  “Well, your new eyes always seem to look up. You look hopeful, or optimistic.”

  “I feel hopeful,” I realized, grinning.

  “Really? What happened? Tell me! Did you manage to convince someone at one of those schools?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. Of the four that Shawna had numbers for, I got hold of one trainer from Canine Vision in Oakville. Her name is January and she’s coming to interview me next week.”

  Maddie chuckled. “January is coming in January. I think that’s a lucky sign.”

  “Me too.” Whatever Amber or Jack or any of my other references had written or told Canine Vision obviously hadn’t turned them off me.

  The thing was I wanted to be enthusiastic. I wanted to believe a dog would be the solution to my problem. But even if the animals were terrific, could I control my fear enough to trust and look after one?

  Mom acted as though if she only cleaned up the house well enough, everything would be fine; I’d get over my fear and be accepted into the program immediately. She had the carpets and upholstery steam-cleaned, reorganized the kitchen cupboards, and hollered at Shawna and Dad to put away their shoes, backpack, briefcase, whatever. “If we have clutter everywhere, they’ll think the house isn’t safe for a guide dog.”

  I didn’t really get that one, but cleaning’s Mom’s approach to anyone visiting. It was a rainy, cold day when January arrived, and the moment she stepped into the house I smelled a kind of wet-wool smell.

  Shawna poked me. “She’s brought a dog!”

  “What kind?” I asked. “Say it’s not a German shepherd, please.”

  “It’s not. It’s tall and black with curly hair. Soooo cute. Promise you won’t screw up, Kyle, promise! Here, take these dog treats. They were free samples in the mail that I saved just in case.”

  I tucked the bone-shaped cookies into my pockets.

  “At least this way the dog’s going to like you,” she said. “Shh, shh, she’s coming. Stand up. Smile!” she poked me again. “Let’s meet her halfway in the hall.”

  I went where Shawna dragged me.

  “Hello, you must be Kyle,” a breezy voice said. “I’m January McDonald from Canine Vision.”

  “Hi,” I said extending my hand. January shook it.

  “And down to my right is King. King, this is Kyle.” Could I do this—reach out in the darkness to pat some dog named King? It was like being a kid in the dark again, with no night-light. What was out there? Would the animal snap off my fingers? Instead I held out a dog bone and felt a small tug as the dog took it. Then I stretched my hand farther out and touched fuzzy hair. “Um, what kind of dog is he?” I asked, resisting the urge to snap back my hand.

  “A standard poodle. Mostly we have Labs, but King is a good dog for allergies.”

  “I’m not allergic,” I said quickly.

  “That’s good. Don’t worry, we have all that information on record. Now, where can we get better acquainted?”

  “Sorry—this way. Just follow me.” I led her into the living room, which is kind of a misnomer, because nobody even breathes, never mind lives, in there. Mom and Dad kept the best, newest furniture in there. We had green leather couches and a beige rug. The coffee table was a deep mahogany wood one that Mom had inherited from an aunt.

  I sat on the easy chair to give January more room on the couch.

  “Sit, King. Good boy,” she said. Then she explained what would happen if I was chosen for the program. I’d have to spend one month at the Canine Vision facility, with almost no outside visits or activities, except for the odd Sunday.

  “But what about regular school?” I broke in. It was hard staying on top of all the reading without being away for
so long. I couldn’t imagine being away from home— the place where I mostly knew where everything was; where everyone looked after me and didn’t expect me to cope for myself.

  “Oh, the session you’d be attending would be over the summer.”

  She continued her explanation. The first few days I’d have to orient myself to the school, find my way around, get used to my room. Then I’d try out different dogs and learn to harness and groom the animals, as well as the basic commands. By the end of the week, I’d have my own dog. I’d be left to bond with it for a whole afternoon.

  I hoped my face didn’t show the fear that clawed at my insides. How could any dog bond with a person afraid of it?

  Next we’d train together through indoor obstacle courses, and then we’d work on the outdoors. They would take us to Hamilton and Toronto and with our dogs, we’d go on buses and subways.

  No, no, it couldn’t be possible.

  The last exercise January told me about was where they dropped you off with your dog somewhere in Oakville, and then you’d be expected to make your way back to the Lions Foundation building.

  “But how can you?” I asked.

  “You’ll have trained in a lot of the spots before then, and you’re expected to ask for directions.”

  I bit down on my lip to resist saying how impossible the whole process sounded.

  “Would you like to go outside and try King now?” January asked.

  “Sure, sure. Yeah. That would be good.” I nodded enthusiastically so my fear wouldn’t show. This dog won’t bite, I told myself as I practiced deep breathing. We stepped outside.

  Luckily, I didn’t feel like a complete loser in our own neighborhood. The weeks of going to school by myself had paid off.

  “Take the harness,” January told me.

  I grabbed hold of a stiff leather handle.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Give King the command to go forward.”

  I hesitated. “Go forward,” I said stiffly and then felt a tug. I followed behind, feeling happy to walk quickly without waving a white cane in front of me. Suddenly the pulling stopped. “Hey, we’re not at the curb yet. I know this block. What’s wrong with the dog?”