Open My Eyes

{Ch. 19} Skateboards and Scars ✓

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of self-harm and ED later in this chapter; section is denoted 

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The new bouquet held chrysanthemums, daffodils, and red tulips. I brushed away the dead bits of old flowers, clearing off her gravestone, and replaced it with the fresh flowers.

Sitting crisscross applesauce before the angel statue, I caressed the engraving. I compared the words against those on my new phone case: an almost exact copy. I smiled, sniffling.

As usual, it smelled like cut grass and flowers, both moldy and bloomed. The air sat still that day, humid as though awaiting a summer storm.

"Guess what, Vanessa." I bounced. "If you're gonna guess it has to do with Iggy, then you're right." I paused for dramatic effect. "We're dating! I know, it's pretty obvious at this point. And – well." I laughed, hands on my cheeks. "He kissed me, and I asked him why, and he told me it was because he liked me in a I-wanna-date-you way. And the feeling is obviously mutual." I plucked at the grass beneath me. "So now it's official.

"We, uh, haven't gone on an actual date yet." My fingers found my hair, and I braided it absentmindedly. "But we've kissed. Not at work! Anymore, I mean. I told him not to. So we kiss on sidewalks instead. Or at my car, before I head home. And we hold hands whenever we can. And we flirt. But that's not much different than before.

"Hey, did you know he doesn't need to rely as much on his cane when he's at H and M? He has it memorized. Like a second home. He told me that. That H and M is like his second home. That's how it was for you, too, wasn't it? A second home. That's another reason I love that place so much. It's home for so many people."

No breeze passed, no change in temperature, no darkening or lightening of the sky. But I felt Vanessa there, as though she were a part of gravity, a part of the atmosphere. I could feel her smiling. She always smiled in my memories.

"So yeah. Like I said, we haven't gone on an official date yet. I want us to though." I brushed some blades of grass off my legs. "But here's the thing. And it – it's stupid. Probably. But I don't know what sorts of dates blind people go on. Is that – is that insensitive?" I sighed. "I don't know. But it's worrying me. What do dates look like for people who can't look?"

Silence answered.

"Yeah, you're right. I just gotta ask him."

Shaking my head, I clapped my hands and sat straighter. A smile took residence on my face. "Sam was the most excited when I told everyone. I think she screamed for at least half an hour." I chuckled. "Kae was protective, of course, but happy for me. And Mom was supportive as well. Said she liked him when they'd met at my birthday."

My monologue fell into its pattern: lamenting how much I missed Vanessa after recapping the events of my day.

I was eleven when she passed away. And she was only seventeen. I didn't understand the medical jargon: the aggressive osteopenia, the centronuclear myopathy. But I did understand that her legs didn't work and her condition worsened, making her exponentially weaker.

Vanessa's attending nurse refused to tell me much—too young, she claimed. But Vanessa demanded I be told—one of the few times I saw her angry. A mere day away from her final sunrise, the nurse informed me that Vanessa's bones could break if she stood up. Breathing became difficult, her heartbeat faint.

The very next day, Vanessa slipped in the bathroom, fracturing several bones, puncturing her lungs. A failed emergency surgery later, and I experienced a sadness so profound, I asked a nurse for a wheelchair too—I couldn't move.