“So,” I say, to distract myself and to make sure I do get more of seeing her this way, “lessons are weekly. Next week’s lesson is cashew chicken. Would you be interested in another lesson?”
“I’d love that,” she says instantly. “And I’ll get a braille labeler before then.”
I nod. “Good call. Also… your house could use a few ADA adjustments.”
She straightens fast. “Really?”
“Simple ones. Non-slip grips, tactile stove markers, pantry organization. Those kinds of things.”Thank you, YouTube.
“You’d… help with that?”
“I can invite someone from the adaptive living program,” I lie. “He’s good.”
Buffisgreat with this kind of thing.
“Yes, yes, please!”
She’s glowing.
I am dying.
“That would help so much,” she whispers. “Thank you, Jason.”
“No,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
She tilts her head. “For what?”
“For trusting me.”
Her cheeks warm. “Well… you seem trustworthy.”
The guilt sinks like a lead balloon.
If only she knew.
Chapter 12
Violet
Grocery shopping with Dog-Jason is becoming weirdly easy. I still can’t get over the fact that I now have two Jasons in my life. Okay, Human-Jason is hardly in my life—he’s just helping me learn to cook and organizing the ADA stuff, whatever that may entail—but still.
And it’s not like I have a crush on him. I don’t. Truly. But something about him makes my stomach do this ridiculous fluttery thing, like my insides have been hit by Cupid’s taser. I refuse to call it a crush, but twitterpation? Maybe. Mildly. Inconveniently.
I also can’t get over how often people comment on how big Jason is. Yes, he’s a big doggo, but blindness doesn’t mean deafness.I hear you whisper-shouting, Susan. Even over the ghastly Mariah Carey song blasting through the speakers loud enough to rupture organs. Whoever chose this playlist must be a sadistic son of a bitch intent on torturing unsuspecting shoppers.
I miss being able to pop in earbuds and listen to podcasts while shopping, but without my sight, I need my ears free to detect anything even remotely unsafe—happy helper or not.
“All right, Jason, let’s see what we need.”
I open my notes app, where I saved the grocery list for this week’s meal. Hattie and Meemaw have been harassing me to cook for them, but after the first disaster, I want to be more confident before I do. When I finally make something for them, I want it to wow their pants off… no, socks. Wow their socks off. No one needs to see Meemaw without her pants again. That New Year’s party was wild and mentally damaging.
As it is, I’m already nervous about cooking for Human-Jason again. But the beef bourguignon was mouthwatering, and I’m excited about having things become more accessible for me.
Hitting play, I lift my phone to my ear to hear the ingredients list.
“Jason, I hope you’re paying attention, because this is quite the list.”
The robotic voice calls out “chicken,” and I make my way to the back of the store where the refrigerators are. I’m about to switch toBe My Eyeswhen Jason nudges me with his nose.
