Sight

Twenty Seven.

"I have to go, mum!" I whined as my mother shook her head, "No driving, Maria." She said, her tone final, I dropped my head in defeat and sighed, "He just got out, I have to go see him, please." I plead, beg, I need to see Seth, I need to, but with my mother being a hindrance, it's becoming a greater challenge to step foot out of this house, "No." She repeated, cutting off any chances of me trying to persuade her, and then I grew frustrated, "Drive me, then!" I yelled and she looked up, a look of hesitance, "I don't-" "You won't let me leave, you won't let me do ANYTHING, at least let me see him! PLEASE." I'm crying now, I don't know when I started, and mother nodded, "Fine. Fine! Alright, go, get dressed." She said and folded the last of the laundry and I nodded, walking back up the stairs.

My nausea is getting better, three months of no school, minimal activity, it can mess you up, but I've only a few weeks left, maybe three. I'm looking forward to freedom, and getting this thing off my head.

I walked up the stairs, a slight smile due to me being triumphant.

I shrugged on a sweater and leggings, I didn't know why, but even as the slight summer came welcoming us, I still experienced constant shivers.

"Ready?" Mother called out to me and I yelled back affirmatively, I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned when I saw the bandage wrapped around my head, my hair hanging limply over one shoulder, the wound was healing, thank heavens.

I walked back out, feeling self-conscious, but trying not to care, "Let's go." She said and I entered the car, giving her the address Seth gave me from weeks ago, all the way in December, it feels like a life time ago, why, I didn't know.

I sat and we drove in silence, a few murmurs of mom singing along to the radio, I just tuned it out and listened to the pleasant pattering of the rain drops against the car windows, I then realized that raindrops were puddles for ants, or pools for their summer parties.

"We're here." I looked outside and saw a large cream colored Victorian House, it was beautiful, with a manicured lawn and all, "I'll just go to the Farmer's Market down the street, and I'll pick you up in an hour." She said and I nodded, smiling, "Okay, I'll be back soon."

She drove off then and I walked up the driveway, passing their perfectly trimmed lawn, looking at the little swing set in the corner, painted a light blue, the paint chipping, peeling away like rotting skin, I walked up to the maroon door and raised my hand to ring the doorbell, then stopped short, what if he didn't want to see me? Even if he texted me, even if we spoke for two minutes, what if he changed his mind?

I remember how our conversation went, "Hi, how are you? I miss you. Yeah, I'm out now. I have to go. Goodbye." And just like that, it was over.

I got a sick feeling then, but might as well plow through it, I rang the doorbell and the door was opened by an elderly man, with pale white hair and bright eyes, he was dressed in a tee shirt and slacks, for a second I thought it was Seth's father, but then I realized he was too old to be his father, "Yes, my dear?" He had a slight English accent, or was it Australian?

"Uh, is this the home of a Seth Lockhart?" I asked, suddenly feeling scared, "Oh yes, Seth, he's inside, but I'm afraid he's asleep." The man with the kind face frowned, suddenly I felt like crying, "But I suppose you can go in, give him a bit of a wake." He winked at me and opened the door a little wider to let me pass, I giggled and caught a tear that was threatening to show, and walked into the house, the wooden floor boards echoing with each step, "Would you mind if I...?" I pointed to my shoes and he nodded, "Oh, most certainly." He smiled and I crouched to untie my shoes and keep them aside so the loud sounds stopped.