Colours of a Sunset

Part 9

Part 9

“Is she ready yet?”

“Yes, she should be ready soon.”

“Are you excited, Jade?” Dad asks me, and I could feel his thumb run across the top of my hand. I nod, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. Bandages covered my head, and I could just reach out for the moment that I don’t see just the dark for once in my life.

“She’s ready, now.” The doctor says, I could barely stay still on the bed.

“Oh she’s more than ready,” Ben jokes, “I think she’s gonna take off the bandages herself if you don’t get on it with it.”

The room goes silent and I can feel my head being lifted from the pillow to sit upright, more than one pair of hands helping me. My heart beats fast, swirling in my chest and those things, that feeling you get in your stomach, it feels exactly like butterflies hitting your rib cage, fluttering about in the pit of your stomach and it’s so nerve-racking. I clutched my dad’s hand, too big for me to cover completely, but I held his hand tight, tighter than the time when my mum took a splinter out from the bottom of my foot when I was six.

The bandage loosens, I can feeling it fall close to my nose. My eyes stay closed until I feel no more cloth across my face.

Deep breaths, in and out, I let out a low breath, keeping my eyes shut.

Three, I mouth, my throat feeling dry.

Two, my lips part and before I knew it.

One, I blink a few times, my vision slightly blurry. I don’t know what I see, what colour this is, but it’s so different from what I have seen for the past sixteen years of my life.

“Dad?” I whisper, letting my eyes focus. Four figures stand in the room, and the person whom I’ve been clutching with my left hand has been my dad.

He smiles. His smile, the first smile I see in my entire life. I could tell, his lips pointing upwards.

“Hey, baby girl.” He says and water forms around his eyes, reaching a hand to stroke my head.

“Dad.” All I could say was that. His hair looked old, his face look old, and I couldn’t tell what colour he was or what colour he was wearing. “I can see, dad.” I whisper, feeling my own tears gather in the pools of my eyes.

“I can see you.” I say and my dad shakes his head, up and down. I hug him, I hug him tighter than I’ve ever hugged him before, letting my tears soak his shirt.

A boy comes into view, crouching down beside my bed. Ben.

“Ben?” I ask, confirming my assumptions and he nods, showing his teeth as he smiles. His teeth, I can see his teeth, his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears, I can see everything there is to him.

“Yeah, it’s me. With brown hair and green eyes.” He whispers, and it was almost like his voice was clogged up in his voice. Ben comes closer, his shoulders hunching forward and his hands grab mine. “And I’m wearing a black shirt but you see the colours on them? It’s a mixture of red and yellow and orange. And the light bit here?” Ben pauses, pointing to the spot on his shirt that looked bright. “That’s what the sun is in picture. It’s actually way too hot and bright for you to look at straight on, but this is what a picture looks like.” He mumbles and I could feel myself cry out with happening, a noise escaping my throat that sounded like a dying whale.

“Dad’s wearing a blue shirt. But it’s actually dark blue. And the doctor on your right? He is wearing a white coat. And the walls in the hospital are white. And the bed sheets are white.” I stare down at the sheets strewn across my lower body. White it’s so white and pure and the doctor’s coat, white. Dad’s shirt, it’s blue and it looks dark but I like the colour.

“And look outside the window, Jade!” Ben announces, standing up and motioning to a clear wall, revealing colours that matched his shirt. “It’s a sunset. Red, yellow, orange, it’s so beautiful. There’s still slight blue in the sky and the hue of the sun is magnificent and grand.” My first sunset. With colours swirling in the sky, something so grand and magnificent, something I’ve never seen before and it was beautiful.

But that all cut short. There was another boy in the room, with lighter hair than my brother’s and his eyes unclear to me. I sat there, looking at him, his hands holding something long and white. “I think you should tell her.” Ben says with slight desolation, his happy tone from just a few seconds ago gone like a storm. With slow, careful steps the other boy walks forward, the thin long stick in his hand tapping the ground with every move. My heart pounded as he stopped beside my brother, and I recognized that stick, all my life I’d have to use one.

“This,” Ben’s voice cracked a little, “Is the willing donor whose eyes are in your head.” My lips press into a thin line, the tears from before had already stopped but I could feel them come back again.

“I–I. . .I have no words to say because I’m so happy that I can see but, oh my god.” My mouth snapped back into realisation and I found it hard to breath. This person right in front of me, donated their eyes for me to see. And I didn’t even think about how this person won’t be able to see anymore. To see the colours around the room, colours everywhere, the colours of the sky, or the sea, the grass, the sunset, he won’t be able to see and I can hardly live with the realisation.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, “I did it because I–because I really, uhm because I wanted to.” His voice was familiar, but the words he said were just jumbled in his mouth like a mixture of ingredients and you could hardly tell what was in there.

“Thank you.” I whispered, my eyes beginning to blur, making it hard to see. “What’s your name?” I asked, and he came closer, long fingers caressing the bar of the bed and my brother and my dad step back to let him come closer.

He touches my hand, but I don’t pull away. I let his warm touch fill me in. “It’s me,” he says, “It’s me, Noah.”

**********

A/N: The epilogue will come soon! :)