Vision (12 page)

T
he first thing Bobby became aware of was the searing pain on his forehead, a line of fire reaching down to his cheek. He felt around near the pain and touched a gauzy bandage. Under him was the soft surface of a mattress, rather than the damp leaves he’d fallen into. From the beeping sounds and the smell of bleach climbing up his nose, it was clear where he was. Why they’d had to bandage his eyes was beyond him.

“Hello?”

“Bobby. Finally,” said a voice. Dad.

“Dad? What the hell?”

He heard the squeak of Dad’s wheelchair tires drawing closer. Dad took his hand.

“Hey, champ. You’re lucky to be among the living.”

“Shit,” Bobby said. “How’d I get here?”

“You can thank Pete for leading Coco to you. Luckily, it was Jerry’s poker night. Coco was asleep on the couch in the back office. He heard Pete whimpering and scratching at the back door.”

Dad laughed, but his tone turned harsh. “Which begs the question, Bobby, what the hell were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night? The sheriff and the guys from the state police want to have a word with you. I take it you weren’t looking for nightcrawlers.”

Bobby groaned. “It’s a long story.”

“You did quite a job on yourself, kiddo. Eighteen stitches to close up the gash in your forehead. You could have bled to death out there. You were already cold and blue when Coco found you.”

“We’re at the VA hospital in Waterbury?”

“Yes,” said Dad. “They’re letting me stay in an adjoining room. Aaron’s going to stay with the Woods for a few days.”

Bobby shivered as the memory of the terrifying night came pouring back. “Can someone take this damn bandage off? Why is it necessary to cover my eyes?”

There was no answer, just the squeak of Dad’s chair as he shifted his weight. “Bobby,” he said, softly, “there
is
no bandage over your eyes.”

Bobby heard the tread of many soft-soled feet forming a circle around his bed.

“Bobby,” said a voice, “I’m going to shine a light into your eyes. I want you to tell me what you see.”

Bobby waited for what seemed like an eternity. There were whispers and murmurs. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m waiting.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” said the voice. “That will be all for now.”

“Dad? What’s going on? Is this some kind of a game?”

“Try and get some rest, okay? The doctor’s going to talk to you later.”

Bobby lay staring into blotchy darkness, his heart thumping, the horrible images beaming into his mind’s eye like a movie. Beyond that, he saw nothing. The red blindness was never this grayish-brown, and had never lasted this long. His heart raced, the breath scraping in and out of his lungs.
What if it’s permanent this time? Am I blind?

By the time the doctor returned, the dark grayish-brown was fringed with light grey around the edges.

“Bobby,” he said, pulling over a chair, “we’re going to send you home with this pair of glasses.” The doctor pressed something into his palm.

“We can’t find anything wrong with you. Though you claimed to have had a head injury, other than this wound, there’s no evidence of it on your X-ray. What you have may be a very rare form of migraine that makes your eyes hypersensitive to light. Right now, your pupils have essentially sealed themselves off, preventing light from entering, like a closed camera lens. If you wear these filtered glasses, you should be able to avoid the worst of your symptoms, and hopefully your normal vision will return.”

Bobby’s voice caught as he spoke. “What if it doesn’t go away completely? What then?”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, there are two gentlemen here to see you. I suggest you wear the glasses starting now if you want your vision to normalize.”

The doctor left. Moments later, two sets of feet clomped into his room. The chair beside him groaned. Whoever this guy was, Bobby was betting he was the size of a house.

“Sorry about your accident, son.” Bobby spotted a shimmer of movement, probably the guy extending his hand. Bobby kept his arms at his side, unsure what the etiquette was in this situation and if the guy had been told that he couldn’t see.

“Thanks,” Bobby grunted.

Another voice chimed in. “You were found unconscious in the woods by the reservoir, very near to the spot where the victim’s remains were found. You were the witness who first alerted the sheriff to the body’s existence.”

“Bobby,” the first voice said, “from a law enforcement officer’s perspective, it’s all very odd. Very suspicious. Can you verify where you were on the night of May 2?”

“I don’t know. Working, probably?”

“What time do you get off work?”

“Most nights at eleven-thirty.”

“Do you go straight home?”

“Usually.”

“Did you on that night?”

“Am I a suspect?”

“Not officially. You’re what we call a ‘person of interest.’”

“I see,” Bobby said.

It went on like this for a while, until finally the detectives thanked him and left. Dad’s wheels rolled into the room.

“Jerry is coming to pick you up. Coco has offered to stay with you until—until your eyes are better. Mr. Cooper has offered to drive Aaron to school. They’re transferring me to the VA for a few days. They want to monitor my blood pressure, plus there’s this sore on my leg, and…”

Bobby breathed a sigh of relief and let his attention drift. He found it was pretty easy to do when he couldn’t see the speaker.

What might have been hours or maybe only minutes passed. His eyesight had improved to a Swiss-cheese pattern, spots of blurred light poking through shadow. It wasn’t exactly seeing, but it was a vast improvement over the dark, grayish black of before.

“Yo, Pendell! I’m busting you out of this joint.”

“Shit, Coco?”

“That’s a pretty sick Ray Charles impersonation you got going on, with those black shades.”

Bobby touched the glasses. “You sure know how to boost a guy’s ego, man. I want to go home and sleep cuddled up with my dog for seven days.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Don’t knock my pup. This is the second time he saved my life.”

“You need that white cane thing on the bed?”

“Hell, no,” Bobby said. “This is just a temporary setback.”

Bobby heard Pete’s happy bark from inside the car. The moment they opened the front door, Pete bounded over in a chaos of fur, slobbering tongue, and paws. Bobby bent over and let him lick his face raw, his nose pressed against Pete’s wet one. He buried his face in fur, breathing in the smell of dog.

“Time for a treat, boy!” Bobby proclaimed. Pete barked joyfully in response, the whisk of his eager tail swiping the air like a metronome.

“Under the sink, right?” Coco offered.

“I’ll get it myself,” he snapped. Bobby had crept into the house enough nights to know his way in the dark. How hard was it to find the kitchen sink?

He shuffled across the living room, confident he knew exactly where he was headed. Instead, he walked directly into a wall, banging his nose hard. “Crap! Where’d that wall come from?”

“Whoops,” Coco said, snickering.

“Fuck off.” Bobby tried to visualize the layout of the house. He couldn’t understand how it was possible to lose his bearings in such a small space. His insides churned with frustration.

He finally made it to the sink, reached into the box and pulled out Pete’s treat. Kneeling, he waited for the sound of galloping paws on linoleum. “Here, boy. I’m still going to take care of you. No matter what.”

Bobby listened, enjoying the happy sound of Pete chomping away at his treat. After a minute, he got to his feet.

“Look, I’m sorry, Coco,” he said, unsure what direction to face. “It’s only temporary. You don’t have to dote on me.”

“Just trying to keep you from busting your nose.”

“Anyway,” Bobby said, reaching for the pantry cabinet, “there’s not much in the house. But I can fix you up some spaghetti.”

“Bobby, please…” Coco said again.

“Why do you keep repeating my name?”

“Jeez.”

Bobby felt around for the last two boxes of spaghetti. “That’s strange. There’s a whole bunch of other stuff in here, and I have no idea what it is or how it got there.”

He found his way to the refrigerator. “I have an open jar in here somewhere.” Again, the refrigerator seemed to be stocked with mysterious containers and jars.

“Wait a minute.” Bobby closed the refrigerator door, confused. And heard what sounded like giggling a few feet away from him. “Shit, Coco. Is someone else here?”

“Surprise!” chimed two female voices.

“Congratulations,” Bobby said, sourly. “Pathetically easy to surprise a blind guy. Who’s here?”

A dark blob separated from the shadows. “It’s Gabe, Bobby. I heard what happened and I just wanted to come. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I wish,” he said softly. “I wish you would have waited a day to play nursemaid. I really didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said a soft, breathy voice. “We’re your friends. We’re here to help.”

Bobby tilted his head, trying to identify the voice. “Holy shit. Is that Dana talking?”

“He can’t see you nodding, D,” Coco said.

“Oh, sorry.”

Bobby had to laugh. “So, what do you call this, a
Turn off the Dark
party? Anyone wearing a Spider-Man costume? Should I be?”

“Gabe’s got the place lit up with candles. Which is why you got me a little nervous with your stumbling around.”

“Oh,” Bobby said, just now noticing the dim pools of pulsing light. “Nice touch. But maybe candles and a blind guy aren’t the best combo.”

“We just thought…”

“We heard that your problem was a light sensitivity,” Gabe said. “So if we kept the lighting muted, your eyes would get better quicker.”

“We figured you’d be hungry too,” Dana added softly. “Hospital food is awful.”

Bobby turned to her. “Your dad doesn’t have a problem that you’re in the house of his top suspect?”

“Don’t be silly, Bobby,” Dana said. “They
had
to question you. Your dad and mine don’t always see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a killer.”

“That’s real nice to know. Gives me a special warm feeling inside.”

Bobby imagined Coco rolling his eyes and slipped off the glasses. The room twinkled with shimmery puddles of dancing light. It was a strange effect, like Christmas lights behind frosted glass. Three shapes huddled around him. Bobby smiled for real.

“Thanks, guys. This was actually a great idea. I am getting better. And I’m hungry as a horse. But can someone help me to the couch so I don’t set the place on fire?”