“Okay.” I heard her words, but behind the pounding chorus of doom in my head, they meant nothing.Eighteen months. I’ve only got eighteen months…
Dr. Clements leant against her hand. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but have you thought about your adaptive needs?”
“What’s that?”
“There are new skills you’ll need to learn in order to continue being independent and doing the things you enjoy. You don’t need sight to lead a full and happy life. There are tools and support systems designed to help.” She slid a stack of pamphlets across the table to me. “This explains some of the adaptations and support you’ll need to consider. You’re rubbing your temple. Do you get migraines?”
“Sometimes.” I dropped my hand from my face.
“That’s common as well. Your brain and eyes strain to make use of the available light.” She scribbled a prescription on her pad and handed it to me. “These painkillers will help. Be careful not to take more than the recommended dose, as they can become addictive. I can help you with whatever you need.” Her pen poised above the pad. “That includes coping with the emotional impact of losing your sight. I’m happy to give you a referral to talk to someone.”
Isis’ tits, nope.“I’m fine. I don’t need a psychologist.”
“Are you sure? Many of my patients find it useful to talk to someone.”
I nodded, standing up. Quoth’s arm jerked as I pulled him up alongside me. “Yes. I… thank you very much, Dr. Clements. I’ve got to go. I have to get back to my job.”
“Of course. Come back to me whenever you want. I’m happy to take another look at your eyes and help you with anything you need.” She held out her hand to me. I stared at it, my brain shouting at my body that I was supposed to shake it. My hands remained at my sides, my fingers curled into a fist, crushing Quoth under my grip. I blinked, turned away, dropped Quoth’s hand, and fled into the hall.
“Mina, Mina. Slow down.” Quoth ran after me as I fled the hospital.
“I’m fine.” I jabbed at my phone app to call a driver. “It’s all fine.”
“That’s not what your expression says.” Soft fingers touched under my chin, turning my face. Quoth’s eyes bore into mine, the irises ringed with fire. “Mina, you’re absolutely crushed.”
His voice croaked. My shoulders sagged. I sank against his body, resting my head against his chest. His arms went around my shoulders. “I am,” I whispered.
Quoth’s heart thudded in his chest. I focused on the beat, synching my breathing with his, allowing his realness to bring me back from the brink. Yes, I would be blind in eighteen months, but these arms would still be there when I needed them, this heart would still be beating. And that filled me with the certainty I needed to hold back my pain.
A car pulled up, and the driver honked the horn. Reluctantly, I slid out of Quoth’s embrace and got into the backseat. He climbed in beside me, his hand seeking mine again.
“You should consider talking to the psychologist,” Quoth said. He didn’t look at me.
“Why? It’s a shock, but I’ve accepted it and I’m fine. Besides, if I need to talk to someone, I’ve got you.”
“Are you sure? You’ve dealt with a lot these past few months, what with seeing Ashley dead, and Mrs. Scarlett and Ginny Button, and finding Mr. Winstone’s body, and now your father’s letter—”
“I’mfine.” I plastered a smile on my face. “Hey, I just realized, you survived that entire hospital visit without changing, even with Dr. Clements’ bird in the corner.”
“Yeah.” Quoth flashed me a brilliant smile. “You’re good for me, Mina Wilde.”
“And you’re good for me, Quoth the Raven.”
* * *
As the car pulled over in front of the village green, my phone beeped. It was a text message from Mum, demanding to know why I hadn’t come home for a second night in a row. I tossed it on the seat without replying.
“You should talk to her,” Quoth said.
“Of course I should. But I’m in a shite mood and I don’t want to.”
“She’s the only family you’ve got.”
“She’snotmy only family anymore, since apparently my father writes to me now, in addition to being a small-time crook and a time-traveling Lothario.”
“Until you speak to your mother, you’re not going to get any answers about that letter. She cares about you, and she’s worried.”
I glared at Quoth. He was right, and I was pissed at him for it. He probably longed to have a meddling mother who constantly tried to ruin his life.
