Blind Adventure

Much thanks to Meg! (For editing)

Blind Adventure
Miranda Brown
“Daddy,” Colby said pulling at my father’s shirt, “Daddy Daddy Daddy!”

“Hold on Colby,” my father replied in his cool professional voice, “I’m looking at Miranda’s eyes”

I was sitting in a big glossy chair that smelled of GermX, while my father shined a bright light into my eyes. Being and eye doctor, my dad would take my brother and I to his office after hours and give us eye examinations when we needed them. My father gave me a series of tests which included identifying a row of letters projected onto a wall. At the end of the 20 minute process, my father gave me the relieving news that I had 20/20 vision. My father moved away, letting me jump down from the tall chair and treat myself to a mint he kept at his desk. My father turned around to my brother smiling, “Now, what was it that you needed to tell me?”

“I can’t see the board,” Colby said in all honesty.
The smile never left my father’s face, “You're probably just too far in the back of the class. Ask your teacher if you can move up.”
“I did!” My brother exclaimed, “She put me in the very front!”
The true smile vanished, and fake smile replaced it, just as bright and cheery, but I could tell the difference. With his voice still strong, my father asked Colby to take a seat in the same chair I was just in. As I watched Colby skip over to it and hop onto it, a chill went down my spine. The black glossy chair made his already pale skin look even paler and rouged. The large chair seemed to swallow his small frame whole. It was I could do to keep myself from grabbing my little brother and slaying the beast that threatened him.

My father did the same process with my brother as he had done with me, but it seemed eerie somehow. It might have been how he struggled with the same rows of letters that I could see with ease, or how the smile on my father’s face disappeared more and more. When my father was finished, his entire smile was gone. He said aloud his voice cracking slightly, “He has 20/50 vision.” I forgot to breath for a moment, just a month ago his vision was 20/20, how could this be? While I was still thinking this over in my head, Colby jumped up with joy and yelled “YES! BHOO YA! I HAVE A 50 AND MIRANDA HAS A 20! I BEAT HER!” My father tried to plaster a new smile onto his face, and quietly explained that the lower score wins in this game. “Well,” my father said with a small hint of happiness in his voice, “I guess you get some cool glasses Colbs,” But Colby didn’t come home with new glasses that day. Nothing had worked, glasses hadn’t done anything to help his vision, some made it worse. We spent hours, trying every type of glasses we could find, even different ones for each eye, still, nothing worked. While Colby sat and moped that he wouldn’t be getting a new pair of SpongeBob glasses, I watched my father’s face. Worry danced across it like ballerinas. What was wrong with Colby? Did something happen when he hit his head the other day? Did he stare into the sun? My father took my brother into another room and gave him different tests. Most of them were 3D pictures of animals and he had to identify them, but he couldn’t.

We went home that night with heavy hearts, and heads hung low. My father worried that it was brain damage. Colby was just upset that he didn’t the cool glasses. We all just sat there, wondering how this could be, looking at Colby with misty eyes. I was tired after a long day so I stumbled into bed, only to dream of the worst.

The next morning I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen for breakfast. I had forgotten any worries I had and was focused on feeding the beast in my stomach. My mom was slowly buttering toast for me in the corner. Confused with her pace I sat down at the table and wondered what freaky dream my mother had that night to cause her to act like this and how long would it be until she told me about it. She turned around and slid the plate in front of me. The toast was burnt to a crisp and I think she used mayo instead of butter. I looked up at her as if to say “Really?” but there was something about the look on her face. Then it all came flooding back to me like a raging river after the dam was just broken, the check-up, the confession, the tests, and the worry. I got out of my seat and ran out the door; I kept running as fast as I could as if I could escape the facts. I arrived at the bus stop 20 minutes early, but I didn’t care.

***
When I arrived at school I was surrounded by friends and I quickly forgot to be sad. I was focused on other things like boys, school, boys, tests, boys, projects, and boys. I went thought the day without even thinking about my brother or his eyes once, until I got home.

I ran off the bus and skipped up to my house. When I arrived at my house Mrs. Vickie, the neighbor whose daughter is in love with Colby, was there waiting. “Your mom went to the doctors with Colby,” she said awkwardly. “You mean something bad happened?” I asked quickly. “No no, it’s probably just a check-up,” she smiled at me. “OR, something bad happened,” I protested. She sighed, “Well come on over to my house, I’ll get you a snack.”

I spent an excruciating two hours of small talk with Mrs. Vickie, until I heard a faint rap at the door. I quickly jumped up and ran to greet my mother but her face was even worse than this morning. I moved outside to say “hi” to Colby while my mom moved closer to Mrs. Vickie as if to tell her a dark secret. I noticed that Colby was wearing sunglasses. It was bright out, but he never wore sunglasses. While Colby started rambling about how Mom let him pick out any pair of sunglasses he wanted, I listened to my mom. She mumbled to Mrs. Vickie (after a melancholy thanks for watching over me) about emailing her. Then she thanked her again and closed the door and abruptly turned around and walked briskly back to our house. I stopped her in the middle of the road. “What’s up?” I said. She knew I was talking about Colby. Her eyes were as glossy, as a newly waxed floor. “Is it bad?” I whispered. She just nodded slightly and stayed silent. We walked back to the house in complete silence, although it was killing me, I could tell she wanted it that way.

***
“So let me get this straight.” I said in a hushed tone to my mother so my brother wouldn’t hear. “He has a disease that’s gonna make him blind?” We were in the kitchen. I was sitting on the counter and my mom was leaning against it, sipping her coffee. The smell of it drifted over to me, the smell that I normally love, just made me sick today. “Yes. Something like that,” My mom said in a tired tone even though this was her third cup of coffee. “The disease makes his vision slowly decline until there is nothing left but some of his peripheral vision. Light makes the process speed up, so he has to keep sunglasses on all the time,” my mother explained for the fifth time. I looked around the dim room, he had to wear them inside too. I just couldn’t take it. I went into my room and locked the door. Why him? Why Colby? The boy who was born without his esophagus. The boy who had over 50 surgeries to repair it. The boy who has had pneumonia twice. The boy I loved. My brother, was going blind. Someone tell me how that is fair. He did nothing to deserve this, he has gone through so much already. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to hit something. Why wasn’t it me? I have always read in books about people crying when they don’t know it, and I never believed it, but it was true. I was crying, and I had no idea, it wasn’t until I started sobbing that I realized it.

The next few days were hard. Just getting used to the whole idea. Everyone was, well, not themselves. We all took it really hard, but the person who took it the hardest was my father. My brother and I grew up believing that he could fix anything, and he thought he could too, but his son gets a disease, that has to do with his own profession, and he can’t do anything about it. I can’t imagine going to work, helping people, even restoring their sight, but he can’t do anything to save his own son. My father was given a week off, but in a way that just made it harder. It was a painful reminder of the tragedy that was Colby’s loss of sight.

I remember the snow day that we had only three days after his diagnoses. It was the most snow Georgia had seen since 1970, but only Colby could enjoy it. I remember my father crying, just standing in the kitchen with sharp, painful diamonds leaking from his eyes, while he watched Colby play in the snow.

Colby’s reaction and attitude shocked us, and anyone who knew him. It wasn’t because he didn’t understand, which is often the case, he just didn’t mind. He loved the attention he was getting and had a new reputation as Mr. Cool from always wearing his glasses. He always has the most positive attitude and the strongest spirit I have ever seen. When I think of my brother and how he handled it, I think of the time he was in the bathtub and exclaimed to my father, “Daddy, what does this soap bottle say? I can’t read it.” I watched as my father hung his head low, his warm skin lying against the cool ceramic tub. A tiny river leaked from his eyes and dripped into the bathwater. Colby, at this point already being legally blind, noticed this barely detectable motion and softly whispered, “Daddy, please don’t cry, I like it, I like being special.”

Now, almost a year later, his vision is at a frightening 20/200 and his spirits remain high. He has learned the entire braille alphabet, has a vision counselor and has many tools to help him see he class work. I once asked him if there was a cure would he go get it. He replied no. He said that he would miss seeing his counselor, he wouldn’t get to use the cool tools, and no more Mr. Cool. Some people see this as self-centered, but I see it as accepting who he is. That is why Colby, my little eight year old brother, is my role model, and I can’t wait for more blind adventures with him.