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“Huh?”
“My life feels like it just sped up, but don’t worry about me. Just get stronger. We’ll talk soon and make a plan for when you’re up and about again.”
“Not a fog promise?”
“No. It has a one hundred percent guarantee.” I kissed him again.
“You know,” he said as I started out. I stopped. “This eye doesn’t work, but it will always see you. I have no factual proof. Do you believe it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I believe it with my heart. My brain is jealous. It’s never been outsmarted.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” I said, and left.
• • •
My mother didn’t ask me anything about my visit except how Greg was doing. I think she saw how close I was to bursting into tears. She was my mother, I thought. She should sense what was inside me, and more often than not, she did. I’d miss that.
I wasn’t going to leave her with anything dark and depressing. She worried too much about me. I told her Greg was healing and he was optimistic. That pleased her. She could sense the hope in my voice. I even think I was smiling.
It wasn’t quite noon.
“I’d like to leave this afternoon,” I said.
“What? Why rush?”
“If I didn’t, I might change my mind. Let’s get Daddy to do what he has to do. You said they don’t have semesters and it was quite unorthodox. Let’s see if it is.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll call him.”
“No. I’ll call him,” I said.
And I did. Then I packed what I wanted after my father called back to tell me they advised that I not bring all that much. Most everything was quite informal, and whatever else I needed could be brought by them later, or the school would help me acquire it. He made arrangements to leave early from work.
My father always spoke with great strength and assurance. He was used to directing people in how to take their medicines and firm about what they should avoid. But now I could hear the nervousness and a little uncertainty in his voice.
The one thing I agreed to wait for, of course, was for Mickey to get home from school so he could go with us. He was more excited than I was.
My parents were quite silent for most of the trip, both wondering if they had moved into this too quickly, I was sure.
All of us were surprised and impressed at the sight of the security booth as we approached the school. My father told the guard our name but then had to show him his license so he could copy down the number. He then handed my father a key card.
“This is coded. Just insert it in the front door. Give the card to Dr. Marlowe.”
“Who’s Dr. Marlowe?” Mickey asked. “Is this a hospital, too?”
“No. She’s in charge of the school, like a principal or superintendent. She has a doctorate, so she’s called Dr. Marlowe,” my father explained.
We pulled into the parking lot, and my father carried my small suitcase for me as we approached the front door of what was a Queen Anne with some additions on both sides and, I imagined, in the rear as well. The key card unlocked the door, and we entered a lobby with very modern decor, cocoa-colored tile floors, rich walnut wood walls, and leather chairs and sofas. An elegant-looking woman with graying dark brown hair approached us quickly. I thought she looked about fifty. She wore a pair of well-worn jeans, a blue blouse, and sandals.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ramanez, welcome. I’m Dr. Jessie Marlowe,” she said, extending her hand to my parents. She smiled at me. “And a special welcome to you, Donna.”
I shook her hand.
She looked at Mickey. “Hi. You’re Mickey, right?”
“Yes,” Mickey said, impressed. So was I.
