Page 8 of Sight Unseen

“He can’t see, Marty.” Jon’s tone was frosty. “How is he supposed to sculpt? You shouldn’t be giving him hope like that. It’s cruel.”

I drew in a breath, about to say Marty was trying to help when Marty spoke again, his voice fierce.

“Don’t you be saying shit like that. Nate can do whatever the hell he wants to do, and this organization has blind artists and sculptors who’ve found a way to keep working on what they love. It is possible so don’t be filling Nate’s head with that crap. His friends think he can make it, so you should too.”

I put a placatory hand on Jon’s arm. The muscles beneath were taut as he stood rigidly next to me.

“Yeah, his friends? You mean Cody?” Jon said sharply, derision skating just beneath the surface. Not for the first time I wished the two men in my life got along. “Well, you guys aren’t the ones who’ll be there with him. You get to say good-bye now, ’cause your job’s done. I’m the one who’s going to have watch him struggle and get frustrated, and support him.”

Jon gripped my hand on his arm. “Forgive me if I need to be the realist here. Come on, Nate, let’s go. Traffic right now is a bitch.”

I raised a hand and rubbed my temple.

Christ, another headache. All I want to do is get home and crawl into bed and put my number one coping mechanism into play: sleep.

Come to think of it, where was Cody? I was hurt he hadn’t come to be with me when I left the hospital like he’d promised. He’d visited often, more than Jon in fact, but now when I truly needed him, no Cody.

Did I do something wrong? Is he giving up on me?

I was enveloped in another bear hug, and my despair lessened with that affectionate gesture. “Nate, listen to me,” Marty whispered. “You can do it. You have my number if you need to talk. Anytime.”

The warmth of his solid body left mine and I felt bereft. I could have spent all day in those reassuring strong arms, but it was time to man up and get on the road.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” I cleared my throat. “Okay, Jon, lead the way. I’m ready to go home. See you around, Marty.” I managed a weak smile at a phrase that now became a joke.

Jon moved closer. “Take my right arm, Nate. Here, the elbow.” He took my left hand, putting it into the crook of his arm. I grasped it firmly, thinking I was grateful he’d paid attention during those short conversations he’d had with Marty about guiding the blind. I followed Jon out of the room, trying to keep in step with him, holding on like a limpet on a submarine.

Just don’t leave me alone. I’m not ready for that.

My skin prickled as I walked along what I imagined was the hospital corridor. Jon’s usual fast pace slowed for my more hesitant one. Now and again, I heard him give a huff or a sigh.

He stopped and I stumbled, and clutched onto his arm even tighter.

“Ouch,” Jon muttered. “Not so hard, Nate. You know how easily I bruise.”

Well, I’m sorry, bitch. Maybe you forgot I can’t fucking see?

Sorry,” I murmured. “Why have you stopped?”

“The nurses are waving for us to go to the nurses’ station. I think they want to say good-bye. Come on, let’s go over.”

Again, I followed. As if I had a choice. As we neared the clamor, the scent of female perfume and disinfectant along with the other smells I’d learned to associate with the hospital grew stronger. I wrinkled my nose.

Starched linen, hair shampoo, sweat and urine. Lovely.

Perhaps there was something to the “now that you can’t see, your other senses kick in” thing everyone had told me about.

“Nate, were you leaving us without saying good-bye? How dare you?” Nurse Caroline. She wrapped long arms around me. Caroline had been one of my favorites. Always ready with a smile in her voice, patient to a fault and a font of gossip about the goings-on in the seedy underbelly of the hospital.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I managed to get out in between being pressed against a soft bosom. “You know my boyfriend.” I waved in the general direction of Jon, noting he was silent.

“Oh yes, your gorgeous man. He’s a sight for sore eyes indeed. All the ladies think he’s handsome. You too of course,” she said quickly with a laugh. “You make a striking couple.”

She couldn’t have known her kindness was a stab to my chest, cutting deep into the flesh and muscle and leaving nothing but a painful mess.

I’ll never see Jon again. Never see him dressed up in his tux, or watch his cute move of sticking his tongue out when we play Scrabble. I’ll never see the artwork scattered around our home, pieces I made or favorite object d’art we bought together.

I’d miss seeing Cody’s expressions, like when he does that exasperated eye roll when I get insecure about a piece of sculpture I’m working on. I’d miss watching him dance with abandon or his perfect form when he surfed.