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I crossed my arms, trying my best not to let his sarcasm get to me. “Since I’d be in and out of your room, I wanted to see if it was a good time for you.”
“I’ve got nothing but time,” Noah muttered.
I also figured by now that his non-answers were probably going to be all I could expect, so I set about doing the laundry.
The bedroom as a whole was dim, but the walk-in was pitch black. I stood for a moment, thinking that this was Noah’s world, permanently. He would never be able to find the light switch on the wall and flip it on as I did then.
I’d be pissed too. More than pissed. Devastated.
I gathered up the clothes strewn all over, not knowing precisely what was clean and what was dirty, but I’d rather have chewed tinfoil than ask Noah.He wouldn’t know anyway, I realized, and wondered how, aside from texture, he knew what he was putting on when he got dressed.
I washed, dried, and folded his clothes, and when I came back an hour and a half later, Noah was still seated in the chair, the remnants of his breakfast on the table before him.
I went back to the closet but instead of putting the clothes back randomly, I devised a quick system to pair up the scores of athletic pants with T-shirts that matched. Pleased yet hesitant, I returned to his side. He was listening intently to his book, with his forehead resting on his hand.
“Noah?”
He heaved a sigh. “Now what?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I finished your laundry and I wanted to show you how I arranged your clothes…”
He rounded on me, hazel eyes blazing. “Yourearrangedmy clothes?”
“Just…so that your shirts match up with your pants,” I said quickly. “So that you don’t have to wonder if you’re color coordinated.”
He narrowed his eyes, thoughts working behind their seemingly vacant stare. I knew he was acutely self-conscious about looking foolish because of his blindness—he would hardly walk in my presence—and so I wasn’t surprised that he accepted this small change.
He nodded once, curtly. “Fine.”
“Do you want to check it out?”
“I’ll pass.”
It was a dismissive response, but I felt good for having made the effort. And that small sense of triumph was my undoing. I grew bold. Or maybe I was just overly optimistic.
“It’s a beautiful day out. Would you like to go for a walk?”
He went back to his book. “No, I would not.”
I should have just left him alone, but I hesitated. The bedroom was dim, musty, in need of airing out. But mostly the lack of light bothered me. I know it made no difference to Noah—the brilliant sunshine was lost to him—but wouldn’t he enjoy feeling the warm rays on his skin?
“Are you sure? It really is the perfect day for it.”
I found the curtain cord and gave it a pull. The heavy material made ashrrkingsound and Noah flinched. He swung his head wildly, tearing the earbuds out of his ears.
“What the fuck…?”
It was uncanny how Noah didn’t so much as blink as a brilliant shaft of light fell across his face. He braced himself on the table, his features twisted in rage.
“This is your first day,” he snarled, incredulous. “DayOne, and already you’re breaking the one fucking rule I asked you to follow.”
I froze, my heart pounding in my throat. I swallowed it down. “I-I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like—”
“One fucking rule. Do you remember it?”
“Yes. I—”
“Did I ask you to open the goddamn drapes?”
