Page 9 of Sight Unseen

All things I’d taken for granted, gone—lost in one roll down a roadside embankment.

Surely everyone could hear my heart pounding and see the panic on my face. The hospital smells now seemed overpowering, the surrounding noise deafening and I needed to leave before I lost it completely. My fragile psyche was unravelling with every kind word, reinforcing every thought of what I would be missing.

Clamping down a scream of frustration, I pulled away from Caroline, my hands dropping to my sides. “Thanks, everyone, for everything you did for me, for taking such good care of me.” I touched my fingers to my mouth and blew them a kiss. “Now we need to get going, the traffic will be horrible.” I swallowed past the growing tightness in my throat. “Jon, can you help me outside to the car please?”

Christ, is this my future? Dependent on another person for every little thing? Jon turned on his charm and smoothly voiced our farewells. Then he placed my hand on his arm again and guided me away.

My senses seemed to go into overdrive as I walked. The swish of people’s clothing as they passed, the clink of some piece of hospital equipment and the muted voices and occasional moans all assaulted my ears. Nausea built in my gut and I tried to clamp it down.

Jon must have seen my agitation. “You okay?”

“No. I’m not okay.” I groaned, feeling desperate. “I want to get home and go to bed.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Nate, it’s eleven in the morning. It’s not night time.” His tone was sympathetic and I hated it. Hated that he sounded that way for me. Hated that I couldn’t tell anymore when night began and day ended.

I grasped his arm tighter, ignoring his hiss of discomfort. “I don’t care. Just take me home.”

***

The drive home was fraught with tension, which escalated when Jon pulled over to answer a phone call. It had to be Caleb. After a few muttered words, Jon hung up and took me home.

Home should have been a refuge. Instead it had become a minefield. I’d have to learn to negotiate my own house in a new way. Cupboards would need to be rearranged so I could find plates, glasses and food without breaking everything or killing myself trying. Walkways needed to be cleared, and everything had to be put in the same place every day so I could navigate—again without killing myself.

Walking into my house, supported by Jon, was both a blessing and a curse. I needed the support, but hated the reason why.

New smells assailed me. The overpowering scent of lilies and sweetness exploded in my brain. The fresh flowers Jon had told me about; bouquets delivered from friends who wished me a speedy recovery. Underneath the fragrance of flowers and plants were odors I recognized from before the accident. The faint remnants of cooking, the smell of polish—we had a lot of wood furniture—and the lingering essence of fabric softener from the laundry room.

The house also reeked of the familiar stench of cigarettes, another sign Caleb had been clinging to my lover.

Jon took my hand, leading me into somewhere that smelled of fruit and wax. I guessed the family room, where we had candles of all shapes and fragrances dotted around the room.

“We’re in the family room right now,” he murmured. “I’ve moved stuff around a bit, so you have an unobstructed path to most places,” he explained. “I’ve pushed furniture out of the way, made sure the rugs won’t curl up, that sort of thing. It took a while. Cal—” He stopped and I waited. “Well, anyway, we did what we could to make sure you didn’t fall over anything. Marty’s advice did come in useful, I suppose.” He placed a flat hand on my chest, holding me still. “You’re at the sofa now if you want to sit down.”

Gingerly, my fingers reached out, grasping at air until they brushed the rolled edge of a cushion. My knees wobbled as I bent to lay my hands flat to support my descent.

Shit. Sitting was something I’d never thought about.

As I eased into the sofa, a gasp escaped my throat as my backside hit the soft cushion, and I leaned back with a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I appreciate everything you did. It couldn’t have been easy.”

Living in a single-story bungalow, with an open plan space that incorporated our family room, dining room and kitchen, I guessed things would become easier for me to get around. I was in familiar surroundings. And my memories of the space should help me navigate my home.

I hoped.

Sounds echoed off the wide walls, clear as radar as they bounced back into the room. That would come in useful too as I learned how to read them.

Jon sighed. “It needed to be done.”

I ran my fingers over the sofa arm. Our family room couch was made of canvas and the fabric was smooth with slight ridges where the blue stripes lay against rich cream. It was strange to be “seeing” a familiar object with touch instead of my eyes.

“Why didn’t you like Marty?” I asked. “You two seemed to have a bit of a bad vibe.”

I heard the scowl in his voice when he spoke. Jon’s voice seemed particularly expressive or perhaps it was me doing my new super Spidey sense thing.

“Marty talks bullshit. All that crap about you being able to sculpt again and telling you things will change, but not be as bad as you thought. I call bullshit because he was saying it to make you feel better. I thought it was unfair.”

“You don’t want me to feel better?” I was curious. “Have hope that I’ll be like I was before only…different?”

A clock ticked, the one on the sideboard. It had always been loud but now it seemed clamorous. Outside, I heard faint honking and engine revving; the muted sounds of traffic.