“Yeah.” I frown. It’s going to be tough making sure I’ve cleaned up all the glass. Dread slices through me like I know the glass will.
“I tell you what,” she says. “You sweep and I’ll hold the shovel and guide you. Teamwork.”
I can do teamwork. “You’re on.”
The mess takes way longer to clean up than it would usually take, but I don’t mind it so much because Hattie and I spendthe time laughing away. It feels good to laugh, to have someone other than Meemaw to talk to. Someone who isn’t as devastated about everything as I am. Someone I can just be myself with. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but am I making a friend here?
When we’re done, I pack the broom away. Before, when I could see, I wasn’t the tidiest person around, but now, I have to have a place for everything.
I grab two cups out of the cupboard and the teapot. Not once does Hattie try to do it for me. Meemaw means well, but all she does is take over. As much as that makes my life easier, it also makes me feel useless. Guilt twists at me for being ungrateful. It melds with my feeling of not having much worth anymore. And don’t forget the self-pity. I’m making a real shit sandwich. But fuck it. It’s my dreams. My dreams of finding someone who loves me. Who wants to spend their life with me. Of having what Meemaw and Papaw used to have. Who is ever going to want to be with a burden? Someone who can’t even see what they look like. All right, pity party for one. I’ll bring the balloons.
I open the freezer and feel along the containers for the mini sausage rolls.
“Okay, I’ve gotta ask,” Hattie says. “How the hell do you know what’s in each container?”
“Well, fish sticks smell way better than cookies.”
“What? Did you lose your sense of smell in the accident too?”
“I’m just pulling your leg.”
“Good thing you aren’t pulling my left arm, or you’d get nowhere.”
I pause, not sure what to say. I bite my lip. Cancel the balloons. I’ll bring along a side of awkward.
A cackle rips from her throat. “C’mon, Vi, lighten up. You’ve got to see the humor in things or you’ll cry.”
I want to cry. Not because she said I have to see the humor in things, but because she called meVi. Like an old friend would. God, I’m lame.
“I’m sorry, I just…” I sigh. “You know.”
“Okay, so explain. Aside from your terrible sense of smell, how do you tell?”
I giggle. “I use an app calledBe My Eyes. It works on a volunteer basis. You point your phone to stuff and a volunteer tells you what you’re pointing at. Then I label it. Well, I did when I could find my braille label machine.”
“No way. No offense or anything, but I think some seeing people could use that app.”
I laugh, and the tightening behind my ribs loosens.
“Oh my god, have you ever considered going into a sex shop and asking for help with dildos?”
“What? No!” My cheeks flush.
Maybe Meemaw is right about me having an aversion to talking about sex.
“First thing Monday morning, we’re going to a sex shop. This I’ve got to see.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, we are definitely not putting some poor innocent helper through that. But you know, Hattie. I think I might need you in my life. And not just for stitching me up when I almost do myself in.” Oh my god, do I sound too needy?
“I think this is a case of divine timing, Vi. I could use a friend myself.”
Something in her voice hits my chest even though she is saying it with a laugh in her tone. Maybe thisisthe divine timing she is talking about. Maybe she needs a friend as much as I do right now.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Girl, we’re going to need something a lot stronger if I go into all that.”
“I have a bottle of champagne. We could have mimosas?” I say tentatively, an anxious flutter tickling my belly. I don’t want to come on too strong.
