I wrecked the car. I was coming from a presentation at the library, and it was night, and I ran into a low concrete wall. The vehicle is most likely irreparable, according to the mechanic. I am fine in the body, but it’s given me an awful shake. An awful shake. Of course the accident itself—the sound, the result of the Cadillac reduced to scrap,—but also because what happened is that—what happened. I’m not sure I. Well
What I think happened is that as I was driving out of the library parking lot, away from the lights and into the darkness, you know, well—I suppose I can’t say exactly what happened. I was driving just like usual, slow and steady, but something occurred. I can’t remember it exactly, but what I think is that quite suddenlyI couldn’t see. I couldn’t see! But how? That stretch of time, was it a moment or was it minutes? It was as if my life was a movie and went black, wasn’t it, but I’m not certain, and that’s what’s troubling me. I’m not certain it was my vision, that black chasm. It wasn’t as if I’d closed my eyes; it’s as if the space of time has been deleted from my memory, up until I crashed. And this has happened to me before, this feeling of deletion. That’s what makes me afraid. How does a thing like that happen? I suppose it must be underway, Colt—the loss of vision. I suppose that must be what this was. I have known conceptually I would go blind, but as an eventuality. Now it seems the blinding is underway, and this is how it will go, but I didn’t anticipate it being like this. This confusion.
The car went by tow, I was delivered home by a cab, and I sat awake all night afraid of the darkness. Afraid to turn off the lights.
I have nightmares. I may have mentioned this. In the nightmares I can still see, but I know I am blind somehow. So I am looking out the window at the sailboats, but maybe they arefuzzy, or maybe I know it’s daytime, but it looks like night. Or I’m in the garden and I don’t recognize the flowers—What is this?, I think. Or I’m looking at the text in a novel but I cannot make any sense of the letters or the words. But the worst dream, this is the one I have over and over, is I’m sitting down at the desk to write and there is the stack of letter writing paper, there are my pens, there are the envelopes, and I’m pawing at them like a cat, but I cannot pick them up. Or I pick up the pen and it lists like a noodle in my hands. I press the thing to the page and it softens or disintegrates. Or there is one version where I get as far as the ink on the page, but I can’t make sense—I can’t write a thing, it’s all scribbling. It’s the way my fear imagines blindness. You’d think the dreams would just be a black void, which is what I suppose it will actually be, though if I were dreaming of a black void I suppose…I wouldn’t be dreaming at all. I would be simply asleep, but I don’t think I sleep, at this point in my life, without dreams, the mind being far too saturated for that. Far too many haunts for that.
My ophthalmologist Dr. Jameson said that with my condition, once it gets going, it could be a year or it could be ten years until it’s complete, and as things progress it can sort of come in and out. I will have to make an appointment. I’ll do that today. I haven’t told anyone other than Rosalie and the child Harry I’ve mentioned in the past, the child with whom I exchange monthly letters, son of my former colleague Judge James Landy. Oh, I’ve also told Joan Didion the author. I haven’t told Bruce or Fiona.
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: Jun 2, 2012 1:00 PM
SUBJECT: Regarding Garden Club meeting June 4
Dear Alice,
Please accept my regrets for the garden club meeting this Monday, June 4. I am sorry to miss the presentation about soil pH and its effect on growing hydrangeas, however, I have an appointment that cannot be moved.
I will look forward to July.
Additionally, if there is a vote taken at the meeting Monday (June 4) regarding moving from the Sunday school room to the basement of the church in order to accommodate a larger number of attendees, I vote a very enthusiastic “NAY.” The club has already grown so large as to become unwieldy. One can hardly hear during the social quarter of an hour. Furthermore, the basement is musty, probably riddled with mold, and the church board has not yet prioritized the necessary renovations that would make the space usable.
Warm regards,
Sybil Van Antwerp
FROM:[email protected]
DATE: Jun 25, 2012 03:31 AM
SUBJECT: Hi from Sydney
Mom, I caught up with Bruce on the phone last night and he told me you totaled the Cadillac. Why didn’t you tell me when we were texting? He said you ran into a barrier of some kind (??) but you’re OK (??) Were you not able to see it, or were you confused in some way? Seems…unlike you. Bruce said you’re fine and you don’t need to be seen by a doctor, but Walt and I were thinking maybe you should get checked over. I’m not trying to boss you around, but it’s worrying.
I know Bruce has mentioned you moving to be closer to him. Have you given that any thought? You’d be able to see Bruce and Marie and the kids more easily, and he’s said he’d love for you to be there. I’ve done some research, and there is actually a really nice retirement village a mile or two from his house calledHappy Hills(you can click the link). They have openings in both the independent cottages (yard) and the condos (no yard), and the pay structure is kind of complicated, but your house will sell high despite the lack of updating because those waterfront lots are in such high demand. I would be happy to make some calls to get more information for you if that would be helpful. Maybe just think about it.
I should be back in London by the end of July. Let’s talk on the phone then. My schedule here is packed and the time change makes it harder. Talk soon,
Fiona
Ms. Van Antwerp
17 Farney Rd.
Arnold, MD
21012
July 1, 2012
Dear Ms. Van Antwerp,
Thank you for including theExpert Puzzlesbook with your last letter. I like it very much, and I was able to complete all but three of the ciphers. How are you? Did you get a new car to replace the one you crashed? I am doing mostly fine. Here is what happened in June:
