All My Trials

All My Trials: Part 5

I wake up and my eyes open to a wall of gray. I scream, expecting a world of color.

Muffled footsteps sound close, then a door opens and someone jumps on me. I scream louder, not expecting a tiny body to start holding me down like I'm a fish on land.

"Cosie!!!" A little boy's voice screams. "It's just me. Jackster." I stop screaming, realizing for about the thirtieth time since I got home from the hospital, that I am blind, and reach out for him. He takes my hands patiently as I sigh.

"Sorry, Jackster." I say. "Am I still in bed?"

"Yes." He replies. "Can I find your slippers?" He loves finding my slippers for me. He enjoys helping me out in general. He's such a kind, sweet little boy.

"Yes." I say. I hear him scurry around my room and I sit up. I swing my feet out of bed and Jackster slips my slippers onto my feet. I re-tie my hair into a messy bun. "Better, I think." I sigh.

"You should re-tie your robe too." Jackster comments with a small giggle.

"Thanks, bud." I wave my hand around until it lands on his head, giving him a nougie then re-tying my robe.

He takes my hand and helps me stand up, making sure I have my balance before letting me go.

"You have to get ready for your first day of school today, Cosie." My mom calls in the door.

Right. August 25. First day of school. The day I've been dreading for the month I've been home.

"I'll get your clothes out. Describe which clothes you want to me." She says, walking in the door and to my closet.

"Big gray sweater, black leggings, gray socks, my brown boots. And a bra and panties." I blush when I remember that Jackster is still in the room. "Forget you heard that, Jackster."

He laughs awkwardly. "I think I will." I smile wide at his discomfort, knowing that one day his opinion will change greatly. My mom hands me my clothes and leads me to the bathroom. I walk in and my mom shuts the door behind me, gently so that I'm not startled. My bathroom smells like vanilla and strangely, that's all I can really focus on as I struggle out of my clothes and grope my way over to the shower where I flap my hands around in order to turn it on. Eventually my hands find the knob and the water rushes down. I climb in, using the edge of the shower to find the water and rinse out my hair. I know that my shampoo is on the right side of my shower, so I follow the wall, almost falling a couple of times, slipping on the wet, slimy tile, to the right side and grab my shampoo. I pop it open and squirt some into my hand, hoping not too much is falling on the floor. I rub it in between the two of my hands and massage it into my scalp, once again finding the water and rinsing it out. The conditioner is on the left side. Painstakingly slowly, I work my way along the wall again and find the conditioner. It's so creamy and smooth, so I work it through my hair and let it sit for a little, then find the water and rinse it out again.
I run my razor over my legs quickly, wincing as I nick myself a couple of times on accident and do my body wash, then rinse. Then I finally step out of the shower.

Ugh. I need to get a towel. My fingers work their way over the wall till I reach my cabinet. I open it and grab out a towel, quickly drying myself off and finding my clothes by crawling around. I slip into them as fast as I can, then run my hands over my counter, accidentally knocking something over... It was my vanilla perfume. Dang it. I'll have to ask mom to clean that up. Then I find my brush and brush my hair into a messy bun.

In some strange way of trying to be normal, I try to find my dirty clothes on the floor and toss them in the general direction of the hamper, hoping they made it in, then turn and find the door on and walk out.

I find the entrance to my door, then trail my hand on the wall of the hallway to the kitchen.

"Do I look okay?" I ask as I enter the room, feeling a few wet, wavy tendrils of my bun escape.

"Yes." A voice replies. Dad.

"Thanks dad." I say, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Alright, I know that I'm blind, but what happened to Uncle Kevin and the criminal when that moving van smashed into us?"

I'm greeted with silence.

"Dad?" I ask.

"The criminal is in jail with a slightly fractured wrist." Dad says. "And Uncle Kevin is paralyzed from the waist down."