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We ate pizza that night on the couch, while watching a basketball game together. We didn’t talk much during the game, but sometimes words weren’t needed. We’d said a lot that night without words just by sitting that close and eating dinner together for the first time in months.
CHAPTER 27
Milo
Lately, it felt as if all my days blended into one. I felt as if I were moving through life at turbo speed. Between school, tutoring, therapy, and practicing using my cane, I felt extremely overwhelmed. I didn’t even know if I actually needed to learn to use a cane, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I lost my balance enough for it to be concerning.
I’d spent hours wearing sunglasses and walking up and down my driveway with my cane, learning how to feel the different textures of the driveway pavement and grass. I’d learned that swaying the cane back and forth, along with tapping every now and again, helped me. There was a strap on the handle, which I thought I was supposed to wrap around my wrist. I quickly learned not to do so, seeing how if the cane got hit by a car, I’d be dragged along with it if it were attached to me.
My forearm felt sore at first from holding the cane so tightly. It was a lot harder than it looked, and I felt tired from the learning curves. I updated my friends and Weston on everything going on, and some days, they’d join me for evening walks to help me get used to using the cane.
Weston told me to start bringing it to school, but I didn’t feel ready for that. I knew the second I did, the whole situation would become even more real than I was ready for. I wasn’t willing or interested in hearing outsiders’ opinions on my blindness. Plus, I felt embarrassed. I knew that was stupid, but I did. I didn’t want people to know I was different. It was never my plan to stand out, but now I knew I would, no matter where I went. I only had a couple more months of high school to get through. I’d rather stub my toes and bang my legs a few more times in school if it meant others wouldn’t know about my issues.
Dad was seemingly handling everything pretty well, up until a Thursday evening after my group therapy session. I walked outside to meet him, and his car wasn’t parked where it had been when he dropped me off. I pulled out my cell phone and called him, but it went straight to voice mail. It was pretty cold out that evening, so I headed back inside the building to wait for him to come back.
Hours passed, and I was still waiting.
The security guard of the building came up to me and smiled. “Hey, sorry, but we’re locking up the building for the night.”
“Yeah, of course. No worries. I’ll get out of your hair,” I muttered, brushing my hands against my brows. I stepped outside into the chilled air that assaulted my face. I pulled out my phone and tried Dad one more time. Still no answer.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Starlet asked when she answered my call. “How was your group session? How are you feeling?”
My left hand fiddled with my coat buttons as I leaned against the building. “It was fine. Look, I’m in a bit of a situation. My dad was a no-show to pick me up and—”
“You’re still there? What’s the address?” She cut in.
She didn’t hesitate to come get me.
I felt humiliated when she picked me up about fifteen minutes later. I climbed into her car, freezing my ass off. “Thanks,” I shivered, tossing my hands in front of the vents on her dashboard, blasting out heat. I was in desperate need of defrosting.
“Oh gosh, were you standing outside this whole time? Your face is so red.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. It felt as if my skin was seconds away from falling off.
“Here,” she said, turning me to face her. “Give me your hands. Mine are warm.”
“I’m fine.”
“Milo. Hands. Now.”
I grumbled and turned toward her, giving her my hands. A wave of instant comfort raked through me simply from her touch. I was still in a bad mood, but she made it feel a little better.
“I’m sorry I had to call you,” I whispered, ashamed. “I didn’t know what else to do when no one else answered.” I could’ve called a car service, but truthfully, I needed her. I knew it was selfish, but I did.
“Don’t apologize for that. I don’t mind at all.” She frowned as she rubbed my hands between hers. “I hate that I’m unable to be your first call.”
“Soon,” I swore. “We’ll get there.”
“I just feel you need me more now than ever, and I hate it. I want to be there for you so bad, Milo. I hate this feeling.”
