Open My Eyes

Six: Angels and Saints

When Sam called, I was deeply thankful for the distraction. She also offered an excuse to leave Hope for Youth as soon as my shift was over. I wanted out of there and away from William as quickly as possible.

         With a long, tired sigh, I slumped in the chair and let my bag fall to the ground. My eyes closed as I breathed carefully though my nose, the tension releasing from my taut muscles.

         Sam slid in the chair across from me, an eyebrow arched in concern. She placed her purse on the table and studied me for a while. She assumed, "Bad day today?"

         My eyes flashed open after I rubbed my face. I looked at her with a deadpan expression as I replied, "You have no idea."

         She picked at the table, leaving a small scratch. "What happened?"

         I went on to tell her about William's plan to make it up to him. I told her about his continual klutziness and "accidental" drop of pens, pencils, towels, papers, and whatever else he got his hands on whenever he was near me. I emphasized his snarky expression and annoying smirk. I made no effort to sugarcoat my frustration with this blind man.

         As she stuffed her mouth full with tater tots, she remarked, "Sounds like blackmail to me."

         I looked at her wide eyes, hand frozen near the appetizers. "Blackmail?" I repeated.

         Nodding, she elaborated, "He's using your guilt against you. He knows you feel bad so he's using that to make you do things for him. If you weren't so uptight about it, you would've been scot-free." Because I remained silent, she continued: "You should just be thankful this is all he's asking you to do."

         "Oh, I am grateful," I piped in.

         She gave me a look that forced me to shut my mouth again. She resumed her study of the tater tot in her hand as she warned, "But if he gets greedier, get out. I don't want you becoming a blind man's wench, got it?"

         The slightest touch of pink rose on my cheeks as I nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am."

         Smirking, she tossed the tater tot at me and laughed when it landed in my lap with a disgusting plop. She laughed harder as I squealed and threw it back onto the table. I glared at her before I burst into laughter as well.

         It felt good to laugh after such a tedious day.

         Suddenly excited, Sam leaned forward, a twinkle in her eyes. Smiling, she inquired, "Wanna hear about Niam?"

         Chuckling, I shrugged and allowed, "Go for it."

*                *                 *                 *                 *                 *                 *

         Uneasy butterflies flapped relentlessly in my stomach. My hands fidgeted and I teetered back and forth out of nervous habit. Anxiety brought a cool sweat to my hands and nausea to my stomach. Closing my eyes, I took a few calming breaths and mentally went through my exercises to practice ASL.

         I stood in front of Mrs. Gibbens' classroom, preparing to take her test. If I could sign with her flawlessly for ten minutes, I'd be allowed to help her class. But it had been a little while since I'd conversed with someone in this voiceless manner.

         Finally, I opened the door with a smile plastered on my face. The teacher, a stoutly older woman with graying black hair and glasses, signed, "Come in," and sat down at a desk. Swallowing, I sat across from her and waved hello.