flowers and cupcakes for reverting me to my former optimistic and dreamy state. My mind begins to wander, but I quickly quell the fantasies and remind myself that it’s only a fake date. He’s going to be my doctor, for god’s sake. Nothing can happen there.
But hearing about Carmen’s happily ever after is making me crave my own. At the very least, maybe sometime in the non-too-distant future, I could be brave enough to try…
My father chuckles. “If you’re finished binge-eating those cupcakes, darling, I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to these past few years.”
As I gulp down the last bite, it occurs to me that he might be the perfect person to consult about the clinical trial that could return my vision. My father has always known everything about everything. I part my lips, intending to spill my guts and divulge the dilemma that has been bothering me, but then I surprise myself by clamping my mouth shut again. I don’t want to hear the downsides. I don’t want to be cautioned. I don’t want to give anyone a chance to talk me out of this.
I want to hope for the best, even if it’s illogical. For the first time in forever, I want to have faith in something. I want to have faith in someone.
Searching my mind for something less sensitive to discuss, I think of my career. “I’ve written a few more books since I left home,” I tell him instead. “Nothing special, just some thrillers. Conspiracies, spies, revenge, action. That sort of thing.”
“That’s really wonderful, sweetheart. You’ll have to let me read them later.”
“I don’t think you’d like them, Dad,” I say with embarrassment, feeling the heat of a blush in my cheeks. “They’re sometimes kind of cheesy, and not that intelligent.”
“You’re just being modest,” he accuses. There is a brief, but heavy pause. “Who have you been staying with all this time? Why couldn’t you come to visit? Is there a boy?”
I am a little upset by these questions. I wipe my fingers on a napkin, taking a moment to compose myself before responding. Of course, due to my blindness, he assumes I needed to live with someone so that they could help me on a day-to-day basis. Yes, I am more than a little miffed. “I was living by myself in New Hampshire,” I respond quietly. “I bought a small cabin in the mountains, far away from society. I have been living on protein shakes and granola bars, so I haven’t really eaten anything tasty in years. That’s why I went nuts on the cupcakes.”
“Good gracious, child. Why would you do subject yourself to such a life?” he asks in horror.
I shrug awkwardly. “I guess it was what I needed. It was a restorative little reprieve; very nun-like and ascetic. Also, very good for writing.”
“You’ve always been an odd little bird,” my father says fondly.
The old nickname brings a smile to my lips. It erases my previous annoyance. I have always adored my father, even if he often considers me to be mortally weak and incapable of basic tasks. I suppose that parents will always see their children as infants and invalids, regardless of whether they possess any glaring disabilities.
My father’s phone receives a text message, and I hear him pull it from his pocket. “This is going to be a very busy day,” he tells me as he responds to the text. “The ceremony won’t start until 4 PM, but we need to do plenty of preparation beforehand. Guests will be arriving all day. The groom and his family will be arriving around noon. We had the florists come over early this morning, and the caterers are going to start making their deliveries.” He laughs to himself. “I should keep you away from Carmen’s wedding cake! You might scarf the whole thing down before the guests even get a chance to look at it.”
“I think I won’t be able to eat a bite of cake,” I say, holding my stomach. “I’m all caked-out for at least a decade.”
“I have no idea where you put it all,” my father
But hearing about Carmen’s happily ever after is making me crave my own. At the very least, maybe sometime in the non-too-distant future, I could be brave enough to try…
My father chuckles. “If you’re finished binge-eating those cupcakes, darling, I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to these past few years.”
As I gulp down the last bite, it occurs to me that he might be the perfect person to consult about the clinical trial that could return my vision. My father has always known everything about everything. I part my lips, intending to spill my guts and divulge the dilemma that has been bothering me, but then I surprise myself by clamping my mouth shut again. I don’t want to hear the downsides. I don’t want to be cautioned. I don’t want to give anyone a chance to talk me out of this.
I want to hope for the best, even if it’s illogical. For the first time in forever, I want to have faith in something. I want to have faith in someone.
Searching my mind for something less sensitive to discuss, I think of my career. “I’ve written a few more books since I left home,” I tell him instead. “Nothing special, just some thrillers. Conspiracies, spies, revenge, action. That sort of thing.”
“That’s really wonderful, sweetheart. You’ll have to let me read them later.”
“I don’t think you’d like them, Dad,” I say with embarrassment, feeling the heat of a blush in my cheeks. “They’re sometimes kind of cheesy, and not that intelligent.”
“You’re just being modest,” he accuses. There is a brief, but heavy pause. “Who have you been staying with all this time? Why couldn’t you come to visit? Is there a boy?”
I am a little upset by these questions. I wipe my fingers on a napkin, taking a moment to compose myself before responding. Of course, due to my blindness, he assumes I needed to live with someone so that they could help me on a day-to-day basis. Yes, I am more than a little miffed. “I was living by myself in New Hampshire,” I respond quietly. “I bought a small cabin in the mountains, far away from society. I have been living on protein shakes and granola bars, so I haven’t really eaten anything tasty in years. That’s why I went nuts on the cupcakes.”
“Good gracious, child. Why would you do subject yourself to such a life?” he asks in horror.
I shrug awkwardly. “I guess it was what I needed. It was a restorative little reprieve; very nun-like and ascetic. Also, very good for writing.”
“You’ve always been an odd little bird,” my father says fondly.
The old nickname brings a smile to my lips. It erases my previous annoyance. I have always adored my father, even if he often considers me to be mortally weak and incapable of basic tasks. I suppose that parents will always see their children as infants and invalids, regardless of whether they possess any glaring disabilities.
My father’s phone receives a text message, and I hear him pull it from his pocket. “This is going to be a very busy day,” he tells me as he responds to the text. “The ceremony won’t start until 4 PM, but we need to do plenty of preparation beforehand. Guests will be arriving all day. The groom and his family will be arriving around noon. We had the florists come over early this morning, and the caterers are going to start making their deliveries.” He laughs to himself. “I should keep you away from Carmen’s wedding cake! You might scarf the whole thing down before the guests even get a chance to look at it.”
“I think I won’t be able to eat a bite of cake,” I say, holding my stomach. “I’m all caked-out for at least a decade.”
“I have no idea where you put it all,” my father
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