I nod, eyes watering. “What happened?” I blink my eyes hard, closing and then opening them. My vision doesn’t improve. It’s like a broken TV with lines and static going through the picture.
“We were in an accident.” He sounds closer, fingers lacing with mine. “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks. It’s so good to see those pretty eyes again. You have no idea.” His voice shakes.
Then it all slowly comes back. The Christmas music he wanted off so badly and the slippery roads. The car that was going too fast behind us.
“Two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“But the show I was supposed to feature my work in . . .”
He squeezes my hand. “Everyone was very understanding and said they’d invite you back next year.”
“Next year,” I say, my next breaths cutting at my throat. “But I’ve waited so long for that first invite.” A lot could change in a year. So much changed before a Christmas song could even finish playing.
“I know, baby, but they had to put you in an induced coma with all the surgeries. The pain was a lot on your body. Next year will be here before you know it. You just focus on getting better.”
My eyes move around the room, and I blink them again, growing frustrated when my sight won’t clear up. “Why can’t I see?”
“What do you mean?” His warm breath hits my cheek. “Can you not see me?”
I shake my head, my heart galloping in my chest. Something’s not right. Is it some weird side effect from the medication? Isthis my body’s way of responding to the trauma it endured? “I can’t see anything. I haven’t been able to since I woke up. Is it nighttime?” It seems too bright for that.
“No, it’s the afternoon. Maybe you need to finish coming to.”
“I’m awake, Travis,” I say, sounding small. “I don’t think I can wake up any more than I have.”
“Let me call the nurse. Maybe she’ll have some answers for us. They didn’t say anything about you having issues with your eyes upon waking.” Metal scrapes against what I can only assume is the floor and he stands up. His body heat is moving away with the growing gap between us making me more unsettled. Silence stretches around me, and it’s more because I block out everything else until he returns.
“Baby?”
“Yeah?” I lift my hand, searching for him, and he grabs it, kissing the back.
“Nurse Kimberly is here. Tell her what you told me.”
“I can’t see.”
“At all?” Her shoes clack against the floor as she moves in closer.
“No. I mean, only blurry shapes, but I can’t really distinguish them from each other.”
“Okay. Hang tight and I’ll get the doctor.” Her words are louder in my ears, and I realize she’s shining a light into my eyes. I barely react to it but the clicking sound taps at my ears.
“Okay.”
“It’s going to be okay, baby.” The bed dips as he perches on the edge. “There has to be some kind of explanation. I’m sure it’s nothing permanent.” His hand slides over my leg, fingers trembling above the blanket. “It’s going to be okay,” he says again.
This time I’m not sure whether it’s me he’s trying to reassure or himself.
The room feels stuffier than before as more people enter. Different voices mix together and Travis joins in. He’s asking more questions, and the doctor asks him to leave the room for a little while.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll go get him some ice water.”
“That’s a good idea,” a woman’s voice responds.
I touch my lips together and they are pretty dry, my mouth sticking when I close and open it. Yeah, water isn’t a bad idea. It’d be better if it also came with some pain meds, and maybe a pill that will help me see again. What’s going on? Will I be like this for the rest of my life? My throat tightens. I need my eyes, almost as much as I need my hands. How am I supposed to know what clay or tool to use? How am I supposed to differentiate colors while painting?
“Mr. Lotus, I’m Doctor Garrett. Can you tell me exactly what you’re experiencing?”
