Skipping Stones

Chapter 3

Jameson pointed to the sand between them, Liam's index finger making intricate lines and curves. "What's with these drawings?"

With his other hand, he pointed to the mountains. "I'm drawing them, the outline of the mountains. So I can remember it and feel what they looked like."

"But you're here every week," Jameson noted. "You could also just take a picture."

"I'm going blind," the stone-skipper said abruptly, his gaze—or what's left of it—staring out at the lake. "It's been getting progressively worse."

Jameson froze as Liam turned to him, carefully removing his dark shades from his eyes. He felt the weight of guilt hit him as his words and presence here in the sand finally started to make sense—half the mystery unveiled. The man's eyes fluttered, affixed to nothing in particular until they settled on Jameson's face, still out of focus.

They hadn't been white or milky like the movies depicted or trembling like he's seen celebrities have; they looked pretty standard. Of course, the shades hadn't been the only thing he had noticed at that moment. Sticking out of his bag, folded into the size of a baton, had been a white cane, something Jameson had failed to see before.

He felt like an utter asshole.

"That's for—"

The stone-skipper, or, now shades and cane person smirked, almost amused by the flustered jogger. "The blind, yes."

"But you said you—"

"Not yet," he assured, placing the shades back on. "I will, though."

"Will?"

Jameson watched as the man fiddled with the bundled-up cane. "It's getting worse, my vision. My views of things are constantly changing. Peripheral vision is nearly gone already. "

He blinked, afraid to upset the nearly blind man. "So you're here to see the mountains?"

"I want to remember them. The mountains, the lake, the vegetation, all of it. I'm scared of forgetting this place once it all fades away. This palace is magical, and I don't want to lose it."

"What about eye surgery? They do that for cataracts and some other conditions, right?"

The man with the cane smiled faintly. "There's no cure, only a few trials. It's a degenerative eye condition; eventually, I'll be totally blind."

"So the cane?" Jameson quipped.

"I need to get used to it. Learn how to get around."

"I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive," Jameson started, unsure if he should even ask, but his curiosity got the best of him. "But how did you get here? There are no other cars, and this town really isn't walkable."

He cringed at how it sounded, wondering if it offended the man and if he should apologize. Instead, he turned toward Jameson, the faintest of smiles on his face. "I take the bus."

"Ah," Jameson replied as if he understood, but he had never taken the bus before, not even a school bus. He hadn't known buses showed up near the area since he's lived here. "How long do you have till—"

"There's no timer for something like this." Liam let out a sigh, letting his hands fall to his side, trying to relax the muscles in his shoulders and back. "I'm certain that I don't have much time, though."

Jameson bit his lip. "What makes you say that?"

Gripping his bag tighter to him, Liam said aloud, directed toward the lake, "it's been so rapid lately. It was 20/20, not even five years ago. Three years ago, I noticed my eyes had gotten sensitive to light and got my first pair of shades in my life. Then within a few months, I saw spots. Now every day, I swear I can see less and less. Even the colors seem to be fading. Soon I'll have to get a seeing-eye dog, even though I'm absolutely terrified of dogs, or depend on my family and cane to navigate the streets."

"That's...terrifying," Jameson struggled to find his words. What could he possibly say? He couldn't relate to something like that. "I-I'm sorry about that."

"They gave me about a year." Liam's words had cut through the air like a knife, dividing the two men with a bitter prognosis. "It's not absolute; it could be longer, maybe shorter. All I know is that I want to make the most of it here."

A lot could happen in a year, Jameson had believed. It had taken him a year to finally unpack the last of his boxes after moving away from his parent's home. A whole year to work his way up in his current job. It took an entire year to say goodbye to his dying mother. And the last year without her, staying on the path of sobriety had been one of the most prolonged and most stressful years he had faced.

But in reality, a year was incredibly short. Jameson's entire perception of time was utterly shattered by Liam's devastating prognosis. A year to see everything before it goes black? To have your life basically cut short, unable to see what the rest of your life has to give?

Jameson looked around him, not really seeing what Liam saw in this place. "But this lake? You'd stay here and watch this every time you come down here? What about the other places you'd like to see?"

"This is all I need."

Taken aback by his response, Jameson stopped himself from pestering him. This wasn't something an able-bodied person like himself could possibly understand, losing one of your senses, and so suddenly.

"Skipping stones, drawing in the sand, listening to the sounds of nature here." Liam gestured to the lake and trees surrounding them. "It feels like home. That's all I need."