Sisters

by Danielle Steel

  “He doesn't care about the money. He just wants to know that there are nice people in his house. He doesn't want to leave it empty for a year. His kids don't want to live there. One lives in Santa Fe and the other one in San Francisco. He tried to get someone to housesit for him, and he couldn't. He doesn't want people giving wild parties, or trashing it. It's a cute little house, and he wants to come back and find it in good shape. He set the price, and I told him he could get twice that, but he doesn't care. If you're interested, you'd better see it quick. I don't think it will be on the market for long. People are away this week because of the holiday, but as soon as other brokers get wind of it, I think it will get snapped up. He only put it on the market last week. I think she died two months ago.” Poor guy. Sabrina felt sorry for him. Losing their mother had taught her a lot about the impact of losing someone you loved.

  “I'm not sure my sister could manage all those stairs. But she might. It wouldn't be as easy as an apartment, especially with the kitchen in the basement. But I'd really like to see it. I like everything else about it.” And it was still within walking distance of Chris. Not quite as close as her current apartment, but close enough.

  “Is your sister handicapped?” the realtor asked, and Sabrina caught her breath. It was the first time she'd been asked, but yes, now she was.

  “Yes,” she said, measuring her words. “She's blind.” It was hard saying the word.

  “That shouldn't be a problem,” the agent said matter-of-factly. “My cousin is blind. He lives in a fourth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn, and he manages fine. Does she have a seeing-eye dog?”

  “Uh … not at the moment, but she might.” She didn't want to tell her that it had just happened only days before. It was too hard to talk about.

  “I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He has an English sheepdog, and I think his wife had a dachshund. He didn't say anything about not wanting dogs. He just wants good tenants who'll pay the rent and take care of his house.” She knew Sabrina was an attorney, financially solvent, and had had good references before. That was all they needed to know. “When can you see it?”

  “Not till Monday.” They were taking Annie's bandages off the next day, and it was going to be a traumatic weekend. Sabrina needed to be around. “I could come into town for a few hours.”

  “I hope it holds till then.” Sabrina hated the way real estate agents did that. They always made you feel as though you were about to miss the deal of your life if you didn't snatch it up within the hour.

  “I might be able to get in on Sunday afternoon, but not before that.” She didn't want to leave Annie the day her bandages came off. There was no way she was going to abandon her now. They had forbidden all the nurses on the floor to discuss Annie's blindness in her presence.

  “I guess Monday will be all right. I think he said he was going away for the weekend, so no one else can get in to see it. Ten o'clock?”

  “That sounds fine.” She gave Sabrina the address, and she said she'd check to see if there was anything else before they met on Monday, but she said again that if Sabrina didn't mind a brownstone, she thought this might be the one. And the price was so good. It didn't have the security most young women wanted, with a doorman, but you couldn't have everything, she pointed out, and then added that houses and apartments were like romance. You either fell in love or you didn't. She hoped Sabrina would.

  She told Tammy and Candy about it when she got off the phone. Their project was taking form, if the house was really any good. And it sounded perfect. It was almost too good to be true.

  “Wait until you see it before you get excited,” Tammy warned her. “I must have seen forty houses before I found mine. You can't believe how awful some people's houses are, or the conditions in which they're willing to live. The black hole of Calcutta was a palazzo compared to some of the hovels I saw. I was really lucky to find mine.”

  She loved her house, had decorated it beautifully, and kept it in immaculate condition, for herself and Juanita. She had a lot more room than she needed, a lovely view, and fireplaces in every room. She had bought some pretty antiques and wonderful art, and although the house wasn't finished, it was a pleasure to come home to at night, even if she was alone. Like Candy, her income allowed her to live in a wonderful place and buy pretty things. Sabrina lived on a tighter budget than her sisters. And Annie lived on a shoe-string, out of respect for her parents, since she had almost no income except for the occasional painting she sold. She had simple needs. And none of them could imagine Annie making any kind of income now that she was blind. There was nothing she was trained for except art. Painting hadn't been her hobby, it was her life. She could have taught art history, because of her master's degree, but Sabrina couldn't imagine that blind teachers were in high demand. She just didn't know. This was a whole new world for her, and it would be for Annie too. Aside from the physical aspects, depression was her greatest fear for her sister now, and all too real. She couldn't imagine it being otherwise.

  All three girls thought the brownstone sounded like a good possibility, and even Chris was enthused. He had never loved Sabrina's apartment—she had taken it because it was close to his, the building was clean, and it was cheap. But it had absolutely zero charm. The brownstone sounded much more interesting, even if somewhat impractical and a little quaint.

  “Annie ought to be able to manage the stairs once she gets used to it. I think there are things you can do to make places easier to get around for people who don't have their sight. There are probably a lot of tricks we can all learn to help her out.” It was new to all of them, and Sabrina thought he was sweet to say it.

  Sabrina mentioned the house to her father that night, and he thought what they were planning to do for Annie was wonderful. He would worry about her a lot less knowing that she was living with two of her sisters, especially Sabrina, since she was considerably more responsible than Candy, and nearly fourteen years older. Candy was still a kid in many ways, and hadn't grown up yet. Sabrina was someone they could all count on, and so was Tammy. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be there, but promised to try and visit often. With a fourth bedroom in the house, if they took it, she'd have that option.

  All three sisters left for the hospital at ten o'clock the next morning, with a fair amount of trepidation. The eye surgeon was due at ten-thirty. None of them had had the guts to prepare Annie for what was coming. The doctor in charge of her case had said to leave it to the surgeon. He was used to dealing with these things and would know what to tell her, and how. They already knew that she would have to have special training. She could go away to a rehab place for blind people for several months, or she could do it on an outpatient basis. What she needed now were life skills adapted to her blindness, and eventually maybe, if she was amenable, a seeing-eye dog. Knowing how Annie hated dogs, none of her sisters could imagine her doing that. She always claimed she thought dogs were noisy, neurotic, and dirty. A seeing-eye dog might be different, but that was still a long way off. She had a lot of very basic things to learn first.

  At least Annie didn't have long months or years of surgeries ahead of her, Sabrina said on the way to the hospital, looking for the bright side. But other than that, there was none. A blind artist was about as depressing as it could get, and they were all sure that Annie would feel that way too. She had lost her career, and everything she had trained for, as well as her mother. She had been torturing herself all week about what she should have done in the accident, and how it might have been different if she could have grabbed the steering wheel from her mother, but there hadn't been time. She had classic survivor guilt, and her sisters told her over and over, to no avail, that it wouldn't have made a difference. It all happened too fast. They assured her again and again that no one blamed her, but she clearly blamed herself.

  Annie was lying in bed quietly when they walked into the room. Candy was wearing short shorts, a thin white T-shirt, and silver sandals, and heads had turned when she walked down the hall. She looked incredible, al
though Sabrina had complained about the see-through T-shirt. She didn't think every worker, doctor, and visitor in the hospital needed a clear view of her sister's nipples.

  “Oh, don't be so uptight. In Europe everyone goes topless,” Candy grumbled.

  “This isn't Europe.” She went topless at their pool, which embarrassed Chris and her father, but Candy was oblivious to people seeing her body. She had made a career of showing it off.

  “What's Candy wearing?” Annie asked with a grin. She could hear them crabbing at each other as they walked in, and Tammy had put her two cents in, saying that if she had paid as much for her breasts as Candy had, she'd be selling tickets and holding viewings to amortize the investment.

  “She's not wearing much,” Sabrina complained, “and what she is wearing, you can see through,” she said as Annie laughed.

  “She can get away with it,” Annie commented.

  “How're you doing?” Tammy asked her as they gathered around her bed, waiting for the doctor.

  “Okay, I guess. I can't wait to get these bandages off. The tape itches, and I'm so sick of sitting here in the dark. I want to see you guys,” she said, smiling, as her sisters said nothing. Sabrina handed her a glass of juice with a straw and helped her get it to her lips. “How's Dad?”

  “He's doing okay. Thank God for Chris, he's keeping him occupied. I think they're fixing every door in the house, making sure every drawer rolls smoothly, changing lightbulbs. I have no idea what they're doing, but they seem very busy.” Annie laughed at the image. And the doctor walked in five minutes later. He exuded an air of quiet confidence, and smiled as he looked at all four sisters. He had already seen them several times that week, and had commented that Annie was a lucky woman to have such strong family support. He said it wasn't always that way between sisters. And he realized now that he was facing all four, not just one, for this painful moment.

  He told Annie that when he took the bandages off, she was not going to see anything different than she did now. As he said it, Sabrina held her breath, and Tammy reached out and squeezed her hand. This was awful. Candy was standing beside them.

  “Why won't I see anything different?” Annie asked, frowning. “Does it take a while for my vision to come back?”

  “Let's try it,” he said calmly, and carefully began removing the bandages she had worn for the last week. Annie asked him then if there were stitches he had to take out, and he said there weren't. The stitches were all dissolving ones, and were inside. Many of the cuts on her face had begun to heal by then. Only the gash on her forehead was likely to leave a scar, but if she wanted to, she could cover it with bangs. Or have it taken care of later. Candy had been putting vitamin E oil on her sister's face all week.

  Once the gauze bandages were removed, the only thing left were the two round patches that covered her eyes. The doctor glanced at Annie's sisters then, and finally back at her.

  “I'm going to take the eye patches off now, Annie,” he said carefully. “I want you to close your eyes. Will you do that for me?”

  “Yes,” she said in a whisper. She had the feeling that something was happening, and it didn't feel right. She didn't know what it was, but the tension in the room was palpable and she didn't like it.

  He took the patches off, and Annie had done what she was told and closed her eyes. He shielded her eyes with his hand then, and asked Sabrina to close the venetian blinds. Even in her blindness, the sunlight could be a shock. Sabrina did it, and they waited, as he asked Annie to open her eyes. There was a moment of terrifying silence in the room, as Sabrina expected her to scream, but she didn't. Instead she looked puzzled and mildly frightened, but he had warned her.

  “What do you see, Annie?” he asked her. “Do you see light?”

  “A little, like a very pale gray,” she said specifically, “kind of a pale gray, and black around the edges. I can't see anything else.” He nodded, and tears rolled silently down first Tammy's cheeks, and then Sabrina's. Candy tiptoed from the room. She couldn't stand it. It was just too painful to watch. Annie heard the sound of the door whooshing closed but didn't ask who it was. She was concentrating on what she saw, and didn't. “I can't see anything, just that pale gray light in the middle of my field of vision.”

  He held a hand in front of her face then, with his fingers spread apart. “What do you see now?”

  “Nothing. What are you doing?”

  “I'm holding my hand in front of your eyes.” He signaled to Sabrina to open the blinds again, which she did. “And now? Is the light any brighter?”

  “A little. The gray is a little lighter, but I still don't see your hand.” She sounded breathless, and was beginning to look very frightened. “How long will it be before I can see normally again? I mean everything, like shapes and faces and color?” It was a painfully direct question, and he was honest with her.

  “Annie, things happen sometimes that can't be fixed. We do every single thing we can to fix them, but once they're broken, or connections are severed, we can't link them up again, no matter how hard we try. One of those pipes that hit you in the accident severed your optic nerves, and the veins that feed them. Once that happens, it's pretty close to impossible to repair the damage. I believe that you will see light and shadows in time. You may even see forms and outlines, and you may even have an impression of color, very much like the way you do now. The light is very bright in this room now, that's the pearl-gray color you see. Without that, the gray would be darker. That may improve slightly over time, but only very slightly. Annie, I know this is hard to conceive of now, but you're very lucky to be alive. The damage could have been far greater— your brain was not permanently damaged in the accident. Your eyes were. But, Annie, you could have lost your life.” It was a tough speech to make, even for him, and he was well aware that she was an artist. Everyone in her family had told him, but it didn't change the damage that had been done to her eyes. And no matter how much he wanted to, there was nothing he could do about it. That didn't make it any easier for Annie now.

  “What are you saying to me?” Annie said, looking panicked. She turned her face toward where she thought her sisters were, and could see nothing. And even the gray she had seen at first seemed dimmer now, as she turned her face away from the light. “What do you mean? Am I blind?” There was an infinitesimal pause before he answered, as her sisters stood there looking as though their hearts would break for her.

  “Yes, Annie, you are,” the doctor said quietly, and held her hand. She yanked it away from him and started to cry.

  “Are you serious? I'm blind? I can't see anything? I'm an artist! I have to see! How can I paint if I can't see?” How could she cross a street, see a friend, cook a meal, or even find her toothpaste? Or get out of the way of traffic? Her sisters were far more concerned about the more basic issues than her art. “I have to see!!” she said again. “Can't you fix it?” She was sobbing like a child, as Sabrina and Tammy reached over to touch her so she would know they were still there.

  “We tried to fix it,” the surgeon said miserably. “We had you in surgery for five hours, just working on your eyes. The damage was too severe. The optic nerves had been destroyed. It really is a miracle you're alive. Sometimes miracles come at a high price. I think this is one of those. I'm really sorry. There are a lot of things you can do to have a good life. Jobs, travel, you can lead a fully independent life. People without sight do remarkable things in the world. Famous people, important people, ordinary people like you and me. You just have to take a different approach than the one you had before.” He knew his words were falling on deaf ears. It was too soon, but he had to say something to give her hope, and she might remember it later. But for now, she had to absorb the shock of being blind.

  “I don't want to be ‘a person without sight’!” she shouted at him. “I want my eyes back. What about a transplant? Can I have someone else's eyes?” She was desperate and ready to sell her soul to get back her sight.

  “There's too much dama
ge,” he said honestly. He didn't want to give her false hope. She might see light and shadows one day, but she would never have her sight. She was blind. At her father's request, another ophthalmologist had examined her records that week, and had come to all the same conclusions.

  “Oh my God,” she said, as her head dropped back onto the pillow, and she sobbed uncontrollably. Her sisters stepped up to her bedside then, one on either side of her, and the doctor patted her hand and left the room. There was nothing more he could do for her right now. She needed them. He was the villain who had just destroyed all hope of life as she had known it until now. He would meet with her again, and help design a treatment plan for her, and make suggestions about the training she would need. But it was too soon for that. Although he was usually more dispassionate, these four women, and especially his patient, had moved him deeply. He felt like an ax murderer as he left the room, and wished he could have done more for her, but he couldn't. No one could have. At least he had managed to preserve her eyeballs so she wasn't disfigured. She was such a beautiful girl.

  Candy saw him leave the room with a grief-stricken face, and slipped back in. She saw Sabrina and Tammy on either side of her, and saw Annie sobbing uncontrollably as they held her.

  “Oh my God … I'm blind … I'm blind …” Candy started to cry the moment she saw her. “I want to die …I want to die … I'll never see anything again … my life is over….”

  “No, it isn't, baby,” Sabrina said softly as she held her. “It isn't. It feels that way, but it isn't. I'm sorry. I know this is hard. It's awful. But we love you, and you're alive. You're not brain-damaged, you're not crippled or paralyzed from the neck down. We have a lot to be grateful for.”