by Logan Chance
He leans his head back into the seat and closes his eyes. My fingers tremble as I pull into the emergency room parking lot.
After signing him in and calling his parents, the nurses call for him. “Wait for my parents,” he says.
My heart cracks a bit. I want to be in there with him, finding out what’s going on.
Staying in the waiting room is torture. Like pure hell not knowing what’s happening. His parent’s burst through the doors and spot me sitting in the back of the large room.
“What’s happening? Where is he?” his mother asks.
“He’s with the doctor now.”
“What exactly happened?” Mr. Wagner asks.
I tell the story to his parents and younger brother, Lance, and his mother cries.
“I knew something wasn’t right.” She sobs into her husband’s chest.
“Calm down, Barb. We don’t know anything yet.”
I pace the room, needing to calm my overactive nerves.
And then, the doctor walks in.
19
Cryin’
“Keep your head up. God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers.” - Zig Zigler
Blindness. Damage to the optic nerve. These terms rattle around my mind as I sit in the cold room trying to figure out my next course of action.
The door opens, and I lift my head at the sound.
“Oh, my God, Ryan,” my mother says, her arms wrapping around me. Her perfume invades my nose in a way I’ve never noticed before. She softly sobs against my chest as I wrap my arms around her as best I can.
When the doctor left the room, I asked him not to let Lizzy back here. Only my parents. I don’t want her to see me this way.
Everyone has a conception of a marine. Of a man. And I didn’t want her to see me at my weakest. I’m still in shock, but I always knew it was a possibility from the moment Dr. James mentioned it on my first evaluation.
But, you never think it can happen to you.
And, as much as you prepare, you’re never prepared for when it finally happens. The seriousness never hits you until you’re sitting at a restaurant, eating pizza, and your sight is stripped away from you.
I’m trying to be strong for my mother. Hearing her cry breaks my heart. My father’s large hand pats my back, and the doctor tells them the same thing he told me—Blind. I’m blind.
I still can’t wrap my brain around it. What I want to do is just crawl away in a hole and never come back out.
Trying to be strong, and being strong, are two separate things. On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out. But, I sit, silently, listening to the doctor talk about treatment options and centers for the blind which can help.
Of course, he tells us to make a follow up appointment with my primary physician, and then tells us we can be on our way.
But, I don’t move. I don’t want to be on my way. I want the doctor to fix everything. Like when I was sick as a kid and the doctor would make it all better.
He doesn’t make it better, though, just sends us on our fucking way.
My father grabs my arm and helps me from the table. “I’ll guide you out. We’ll have Lance drive your truck home,” he says.
My truck. A truck I’ll never get to drive again.
“Is Lizzy still out there?”
“She’s worried about you. She’s not going anywhere until she sees you.”
Until she sees me. I wince as small realizations hit me. I’ll never see their faces again.
My father does a good job leading me through the hospital, letting me know about every turn, every little thing which could be an obstacle for me.
The doctor gave me something for my head, and it’s making me dizzy. I’m disoriented and a light gets brighter as my father tells me we’re heading through the waiting room.
“Ryan.” Lizzy’s voice is far away but getting closer. “Ryan.” Her voice sounds in front of me and her breathing is rapid, and already I know she’s crying.
I almost lose control.
Heavier footsteps follow her, and I’m guessing it’s one of my brothers. Her tiny arms wrap around my midsection, and her hair tickles my nose. I feel weak in her arms. And I want nothing more than for her to go away.
Sure, it’s mean, but I’m a man. I should be the one taking care of her. Not the other way around. I would never ask that of her.
My mother relays a shorter version of what the doctor has said, and all I can think about is if people are watching. I don’t hear other people, but I feel eyes on me. It makes me uncomfortable.
“Can we get out of here, please,” I ask.
My father is on it, helping me out. I halt my steps.
Before, I could still see shadows, varying shades of light, like a fucked-up kaleidoscope distorting the light back at me.
But, as soon as the salty air hits my face, there’s nothing. Blackness, and it fucking terrifies me.
My father senses my hesitation, gripping my arm tighter. “It’s ok. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
His soft tone calms me, allowing me to continue walking. Lizzy isn’t far behind because I can hear her footsteps, and, honestly, I don’t know what to say to her.
“You’ll be staying the night with us in your old room,” my mother says.
“Yeah, anything you need,” Lance’s voice sounds behind me.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
My father helps me in the car, and I reach for the seatbelt as he shuts the door.
I hate this feeling. Everyone feeling sorry for me. It’s one of the worst feelings, and all I want is my sight back and Lizzy by my side.
But, she’s better than this.
She’s better than me.
I’m nothing but a burden now.
As soon as I’m home, my mother and Lance head to my house to gather a few of my things.
Lizzy helps me outside, and we sit on the wooden swing on the back porch.
“I can’t believe any of this,” she says.
“You and me both, kid.”
“We’ll get through this. They have operations. They have a lot of things. Your mother and I were talking about it.”
“Stop. Just stop.” It’s killing me I can’t see her.
“I’m sorry. I guess you need some time.” She shifts her body closer.
“Time? What good will that do? I’ll still be a freak.”
She cuts in, “Stop. Don’t say that.”
“It’s not only that. Lizzy, you don’t need to be taking care of me for the rest of my life.” I’m doing the right thing. Even though it hurts, it’s the right thing.
“What?” I hear the fear in her tone. “Ryan we’re a team. You and me. I’m not walking away from you.”
“Goddammit. Will you listen to me? I don’t want to be a burden to you. It’s bad enough I’ll need my parents now.”
“I’m not leaving.”
I stand up, anger coursing through me. The bench swings and hits the back of my legs, and I stumble a few steps in front of me. I know the railing is close and put out my hands to reach for it, but there’s nothing there. Lizzy swoops in, guiding me the last few steps, and I feel the course wood hit my hand.
I shake my head. “You’re better than this.”
“I’ll give you some time, but I’m not going to stop caring about you. You’ve been my best friend since we were kids. I’m not giving up on you.”
“Well, I wish you would.” I’m pissed at the world. I’m angry with everyone, more so with myself. “Go,” I tell her. “Leave.”
I’m not strong enough to handle this.
“I’m going to get your mother to come out here and help you. It’s been a horrible day. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” She kisses my cheek and every part of me screams for me to lift her in my arms and never let her go.
“Don’t bother. I’m not some science project for you to take care of. I don’t need you,” I lie.
“Well, I need you.”
“Too bad.
Whatever this was is over now. Just leave me alone.”
As much as I want her, I need her too. But, it’s my own anger stopping me.
She walks away, her tears louder than the explosion which caused all of this.
Two weeks later, and after scans and scans, Dr. James mentioned a few of my options. Surgery, counseling, centers to help me be more independent. But, I want none of it.
I want to throw in the towel. God, I give up.
As I try to dress myself, I throw my shirt against the wall. “Fuck,” I scream.
To say I’m not handling this well is an understatement. I’m barely able to keep my shit together. Yes, I knew going blind was a possibility, but I never wanted to believe it.
I ignored the headaches, hoping it was just stress, or the heat.
The past few days, I’ve barely emerged from my room. I listen to music and growl at everyone who enters through the doors. It’s fucking hard, and everyday I want to give up.
A knock at the door sounds, and I hear my father’s voice on the other side. “Ryan, I’m coming in.”
“Go away,” I yell.
He opens the door anyway. Lovely. Come on in, I guess.
I sit on the bed as my father’s footsteps near. He sits next to me. “Ryan, I want to talk to you.”
“Please save it.” I don’t want to hear anymore about the centers or surgeries. I just want to be left alone.
“Well, no. You’re going to listen to what I have to say. You’re my son, and I’m damn proud of you.”
“Save it,” I scoff, folding my arms across my chest.
“I am. You went off to war and served your country.”
“Yeah, a lot of good it did me.” I wish he would go away.
“Listen, son, you were handed a shit hand, but at least you came home to us. At least you’re here.” His voice rises. “The son I raised is a survivor. The man I raised is a fighter. And, it pains me to see you giving up so easily.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“We’re all here for you. We aren’t going to let you fail. I think you should check out the center Dr. James mentioned.” His hand lands on my shoulder. “What’s that Marine saying? Improvise, Adapt and Overcome.”
I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
And I do, for the next week. It’s all I think about, until I realize he’s right. Life sucks. It sucks hard. It tests and tests you, and you must face the challenges and never give up. I’m no quitter. I’m a marine.
I make my way through the house, counting steps and using directional cues to guide me, into the kitchen.
My other senses have kicked into full gear, with my sense of smell taking over. Most things I smell first, then hear. Even my sense of touch has amplified. I never knew how things felt in my hand until I lost my sight.
The aroma of pancakes wafts through the air. My mother’s soft humming lets me know it’s her cooking.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, finding a stool to sit on.
“Good morning. Did you want to drive down to that center I was telling you about?”
Ah, yes. The Miami Lighthouse for the Blind. They apparently offer it all. Classes on how to take care of yourself and other useful shit I need. Improvise, Adapt and Overcome. I repeat the mantra in my head.
“Yeah, I’m finally ready.”
After breakfast, we hop in the car and set off for the center.
I like the days the best. The outside lights and shadows dance across my vision, letting me know there’s still a world out there. It’s the night that scares me, when the blackness comes. It makes me unsure of myself. Makes me want to never wake when I lay my head down.
My mother parks the car after a while of driving, and I wait for her to help me into the center.
Walking in, I’m both terrified and excited.
“I’m going to sign you in,” my mother says. While she’s gone, I listen to all the sounds around me. A waterfall not far away, birds chirping, and a low hum of the air conditioner catch my attention. It gives me a serene feeling, and I smile when a lady’s voice calls my name.
She grabs my hand and leads me away from my mother.
“How are you today?” she asks.
I don’t really know how to answer. “I guess I’m good.”
New things are upon me, but I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be ready to accept it all.
20
Lizard
“A true friend’s silence hurts more than an enemy’s rough words.” - Denzor
I haven’t seen or heard from Ryan in almost a month. His mother has kept me updated, and all I want to do is be there for him.
But, I’m giving him space, per his mother’s request.
I smell cookies, and walk into our quaint kitchen to find Lexi hovered over the oven.
“Hey,” I say, propping a hip against the counter. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying a new recipe Kayla gave me for fudge cookies.” She smiles a hopeful smile.
“How’s it turning out?”
“Um, not really too good.” She cringes as she stirs batter in a stainless-steel bowl.
“Let me try.” I step closer and stick my finger in the bowl to grab a dab of fudge. I bring it to my lips and shake my head. “It’s not too bad,” I lie.
“Thanks.” She stops stirring and wipes her hand on a towel. “Any word from Ryan?”
“No. His mom says the doctors are hopeful. He’s been going to a center for the blind. They teach him how to do things on his own.”
“Oh, that’s good.” She shakes her head. “Man, I couldn’t even imagine what he’s going through. Does he talk to you?” She grabs a glass of water as I stare out the window.
“No,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry, Liz. I wish I had the right things to say. And, I wish I could make it better for both of you.”
“No, it’s ok. I feel the same. I just wish there was something I could do.”
“I know it’s hard. But you have to imagine what he’s going through. It’s best if you’re just there for him no matter what. Don’t let him push you away,” Lexi says, with a soft smile.
Sight. I’ve always taken it for granted. Last night, I tried closing my eyes and walking around my apartment. I made it about three steps before my fear took over.
I close my eyes again and turn around.
“What are you doing?” Lexi asks.
“I just want to try.” I take a step forward, reaching out for the cabinet in front of me.
Blackness all around; it’s harder than it appears. I turn and try to walk toward Lexi, forgetting the whole makeup of our house. I wish I could have memorized it before I tried.
Memorize.
Ryan scouted his place. Ryan mentioned memorizing me. Did he know this was going to happen?
My eyes fly open, and Lexi’s still in the same spot. “What happened?” she asks.
“I think Ryan knew this was coming?”
“What? He knew he was going to go blind?”
I nod. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I grab my keys from the counter and rush toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Lexi calls after me.
“I need to talk to him.”
“Good. Don’t let him push you away.”
I won’t again. I’m going to make him realize we can be together.
Nerves skate through me as I stand on the doorstep of the Wagner’s residence. Everyone is at the surf shop, and only Ryan is home. That worries me, and I wonder if I should knock or just go on in.
I try the knob, and it’s open.
I step inside, and sun streams through the open windows. It’s bright and cheery, but I feel anything but because Ryan can’t see the clear blue sky anymore or the sun’s rays on the ocean he loved so much. It’s all been taken from him with no warning.
I walk through the foyer and spot Ryan sitting on the couch. He’s wearing Bose headphones on his ears, moving to the beat of wh
atever music he’s listening to.
I stop in my tracks. Fuck. My heart breaks. Is the memory of everything ingrained in his mind? Is he scared and hiding it from everyone?
Tears fill my eyes as he taps his thumb on the arm of the leather couch. A heavy weight settles on my chest. I want to rush over to him and hug him. Give him my sight.
“I know you’re there, Lizzy,” he says, removing his headphones.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…I mean…” I’m at a loss for words.
“Listen, I’ve had a bad day. What are you doing here?” The tone in his voice isn’t friendly, and it makes my tears fall harder.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I care about you.”
“See me?” He throws his arms in the air, facing in the direction I’m standing. “Well, here it is. This is how pathetic I’m doing. Happy?”
“Happy? No, I’m not happy. Ryan, I miss you. I miss us.” I move closer and take a seat on the couch beside him.
“Us?” He laughs. “There is no us now.”
I grab his hand. “There will always be an us.”
“Are you kidding? Look at me. This isn’t a life for you.” His anger targets me, but I won’t back down. “I won’t do that to you,” he yells.
“No, I get to decide what I want for my life.” He’s what I want. He’s still the same Ryan, whether he can see me or not. Losing his sight, didn’t mean he lost me. “I love you,” I say, firmly.
“Love?” he scoffs. “You can’t save me, Lizzy.”
“You don’t need saving,” I cry out. “This isn’t a death sentence.” I grab the sides of his face; my lips close to his. “I love you. I always have. You don’t need to see me to feel it. Just like I wouldn’t need to see you.” I drop my forehead to his. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Now who’s quoting Shakespeare?” He kisses me, rough and punishing. It’s as if his life force is begging for me to understand him. And, I do.
He’s hurting, and I want to be there to ease the pain. “Let me show you, Ryan,” I whisper.
21
Cryin’
“Honor is simply the morality of superior men.” - HL Mencken
I feel her climb on top of me, straddling my lap. I told her she’d always be safe with me. How can I do that now? My hands find their way to her hips, slide up and trace over thin straps and the delicate slope of her collar bone. A sundress. Her scent, fresh and clean, invades my nostrils. She guides my hands down to her full breasts. My thumbs brush over the stiff peaks of her nipples.
