“I…”
She was breathing like she’d rather run than answer. And that gave him what he needed. He cleared his throat. “It’s okay. It’s not important. I’ll work something out. You say Wednesday morning same time will be fine?”
She touched his forearm. Light, quick, but meant to detain him. “I’d be happy to help.”
It just about derailed him. He shook his head. He’d heard no in her breath, in her inability to complete a sentence. But she’d said yes. Sound might be pure but it was complicated. This was pushing her comfort zone.
Hugging her would be inappropriate. He had to tighten his shoulders to stop from reaching for her as if she was Taylor. He didn’t have that right. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to have her freesia freshness close to him.
He smiled. “That’s great. I’ll pick you up.” He laughed. “I mean in a taxi. I really haven’t driven since I was fifteen.” But he felt that way. Fifteen again and fearless, devious, not quite telling the truth to anyone who might worry about him so he’d get his own way.
He spent the rest of Monday alternately clearing his throat, swigging cough medicine and keeping his mouth shut. He thought about making an appointment with Lina. He hunkered down with a couple of audio books and a script for a cartoon about a gang of street cats, a modern day Top Cat. He’d play the gang leader, a raggedy Maine Coon called Harley. He needed to decide whether to do it or not. He didn’t dislike cats that much.
On Tuesday morning, Eminem’s I Need a Doctor ringtone style woke him. Lina personally, not her office, it came in on the theme song from House. He almost let it go through to message bank. Both of them already knew what her tests were going to say.
“You know the loss of my night vision inspired the name of my mate’s bar.”
“Damon. Why haven’t you made an appointment?” Speakerphone. Classical music turned down low, an enclosed ambience. Lina was in her car.
“Moon Blink.”
“It’s an old term for night blindness. We have to do this. Have you told your parents?”
“And worry them. No. What are they going to do about it? We all knew this was coming.”
“It’s not coming. It’s here. All you’ve got is silvery light and dark, vague shadows. You’re going to wake up one morning and see nothing.”
“I’m ready for it.”
“You’ve learned to use a long cane? You’ve told your family and friends? What about registering for a guide dog? Oh seriously, this woman is doing her makeup in traffic.” There was a short sharp toot. “Move it, lady.”
He sighed. “I don’t know why we’re bothering with more testing.”
“Because I’m a doctor and that’s what we do, and because you think this is not happening. You’re compensating. You’ve got enough random peripheral vision left for your very clever brain to fill in the blanks, but that can’t go on.”
“Did you know that some baseball pitches are so fast, it’s impossible to keep your eye on the ball. The brain predicts where it’s going.”
“Yes, Damon, I know that.”
“Did you know there are experiments where blind people are taught to experience sound through vibrational touch.”
“That we are learning ways to extend the range of human senses. Yes, Damon, but I’m talking about you, right now, not future you who learns to see again using your toenails and a piece of magic tech.”
“I’m managing fine as it is. Maybe I’ll stay like this a while.”
There was a blast of horn. “You’re right, I don’t know that. You haven’t had the typical choroideremia symptoms, so let’s do the tests.”
“Was that some kind of reverse ophthalmology?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it was. I have a cancellation this afternoon. You’re coming in.”
“Shame, I’m busy.”
“Damon. Don’t make me regret clearing time for you.”
“You said it was a cancellation.”
“Who do you think cancelled?”