Inconvenience

Chapter 2: "Parents"

Chapter 2

He was blind. That was it, the final word, the last thing he'd know ever again. The doctor's words sealed that reality in stone. Max lay in the bed, closing his eyes as tight as he could, and opened them again, hoping that it was all a surreal dream and he'd snap out of it any second now.

But he didn't wake up. This was his life now. Hundreds of thoughts passed through his mind. How would he ever do anything ever again. He wouldn't be able to read, watch TV or movies, or ever look at anything ever again. He'd need to be told which way to walk and which direction to piss in.

Worst of all, he'd be utterly defenceless. His parents would have an easy target now, as would all the people who just plain didn't like him. His classmates for one, the teachers for another, and people he cussed out in general. He'd never see anything coming. That thought immediately made him feel like throwing up.

He didn't remember giving the man his address, but apparently, he did. Max didn't hear the footsteps enter the room, but he heard the voice clear as day.

"Well...what happened to you?"

It was the jarring tone of his father, and hearing it so suddenly made Max flinch.

"Look at me, boy." It was an order. Usually Max would refuse on principle, but he didn't have the confidence right now. He craned his head in the direction he thought the voice came from, and hoped he was right.

"My god!" The man growled out. "What the hell did you do?"

Max shrank back into the pillows. The voice felt like rusty nails grinding against his ears.

"It's, I, I, I..." He stuttered. The explanation was lost to him, he couldn't arrange the thoughts in his head to make sense of everything himself, let alone tell anyone else what had happened.

The man who spoke to Max first piped up in his stead. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. ..."

"Anand." Max's mother added.

"Anand. Your son has been attacked, and his eyes severely damaged." Neither of them said anything. Max was pissed off by their silence. He couldn't know the looks on their faces, but if he imagined hard enough, they probably looked bored or indifferent. "He's been left blind in both eyes. By the time he was brought to us the chemical had damaged the pupils, irises, sclerae and the corneas have been damaged most of all, resulting in a decolouration of the irises."

Max thought about what that meant. Did his eyes look blank and empty now, like a dead person's eyes? It was superficial, so he didn't know why it made his gut churn even more than it already had. It was a small consolation that he no longer shared an eye colour with his mom, but it did make him feel a tiny bit better.

"Well, will he ever be able to see again? At all?" His mother asked. Her voice lacked concern and worry. In fact, Max thought that the man cared more about the destruction of his eyes than either of his parents did. He wasn't surprised. The man was probably a doctor, who wanted to see people get better if nothing else. He didn't care whether or not Max got better, he cared if his patient got better.

The doctor didn't speak for a minute. Max could picture his face, despite never seeing him, his mouth agape, eyes darting from him to his parents, his brain trying to find the kindest words. He heard the man sigh what sounded like an attempt at a sad sigh. Then he spoke.

"It is very unlikely. The damage is too severe, and..."

The sudden sound of feet shuffling away pissed Max off. These were his eyes they were talking about. If anyone in the world had the right to know about their condition, he did. His parents certainly didn't. They probably only showed up because they'd be investigated by the police or child protective services if they left their blinded son in the hospital. If that happened, their "hobbies" would be known by the wrong people, and Max would become part of "The System". That's what he called the whole "foster-care, orphanage, adoption" crap. He was threatened with being shipped off to the nearest foster-home many times over the years. He knew they were empty threats. They liked the child benefits cheque that showed up in the letterbox every month.