“ S o, what are we going to do today?” I ask my aunt, settling beside her on the porch.
She’s in her wheelchair, catching the late afternoon breeze. The sky is a bright, endless blue, and the warm air carries the scent of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers.
“Nothing,” she says, tilting her face toward the sun. “I want to hear what you’re planning to do this weekend.”
I hesitate. “I was invited to a party.”
Her lips twitch. “Micah?”
“Well, yeah, but I told him I wasn’t going to go. Then Diana said she was going, so…”
Her aquamarine eyes gleam with amusement. “You’re making friends.”
“Sort of,” I mumble. “I guess so.”
“If she wants you to go, it sounds like she wants to get to know you.”
“We’re roommates.”
“Even more so.” She gives me a pointed look. “I want you to go and have fun. I don’t want you to visit me.”
My chest tightens. “When is it?”
“Friday, but I’ll still come by. And if I have time, I’ll go.”
“Nonsense,” she says, waving me off. “I want you to go. I want you to have fun.”
“Aunt Nan, I have plenty of time to have fun. You’re more important than some party.”
She sighs. “I’m a dying old lady, Selene. Nothing is going to change that.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. “I’m going to miss you,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “And I can’t bear to think about when that day comes, Nan. It’s not the same. You’re everything to me.”
“I know,” she says softly. “But if you want to make me happy, I need you to be happy.”
I force a smile. “I am happy.”
There’s nothing happy about watching her die. Every time the thought of her death crosses my mind, it’s like a wound that won’t stop bleeding. What I mean is, I’m happy when I’m with her.
She gives me a knowing look. “You don’t smile enough,” she murmurs. “And I don’t like it.”
I plaster on a grin. “I’m smiling now. See?”
Her brow lifts in amusement.
“What?” I press. “I’m smiling.”
“Nice try, Selene. But I know when my girl is happy. Like the night Micah asked you to prom.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “But then two days later, you were moping around like your cat died.”
I scoff. “We don’t have a cat, Nan.”
“Exactly.” I open my mouth to argue, but she continues. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but I know it has to do with Micah.”
I stiffen. Because she’s right. It had everything to do with Micah and everything to do with what I allowed to happen.
It was my fault that I couldn’t separate our friendship from that night the way he did.
I thought she didn’t notice. “It didn’t,” I lie.
She huffs, unconvinced. “He might be your friend, but that’s all I think he’s capable of being.”
I look away. She doesn’t hate Micah, but she’s never approved of us being together.
In her eyes, he isn’t good enough for me. And I can’t blame her.
I won’t be much good to anyone blind. What guy wants to be with a blind woman for the rest of his life?
“I looked into the program,” I say, desperate to change the subject.
She shifts her attention to me. “You mean the one for the blind?”
I inhale deeply, staring at the vast, open sky. I hate this conversation. “That’s the one.”
It was an unspoken rule growing up—no talking about when I would go blind. No talking about how I would deal with it when it happened.
But that time was coming.
“Yep,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone. “I took the doctor’s advice and looked into it.”
“And what are your options?”
“Braille, a cane, or a dog. Learning to feel and use my other senses. It’s like learning how to read all over again—but as an adult.”
She hums. “Sounds like fun.”
I snort. “You know what sounds like fun?” I say brightly.
She glances at me. “What?”
“A hand at Dominoes.”
The corners of her lips lift into a smile.
And for a moment, just a moment, the worries about the future melt away, carried off by the breeze. It’s refreshing. It’s peaceful.
And I never want to forget the way she laughs when she guesses exactly what I have. She also doesn’t know that she’ll beat me every time. Because the dots start blurring before my eyes after a while.