Vision for the future

“Lights, Dr. Carter. All I see are green, sparkling lights. I’ve been telling every medical specialist I’ve talked with for six months now.” I couldn’t help the aggravation from flooding out of my mouth, like a child with no filter.

I recalled many times kids telling me, “You’re really tall.” As if I couldn’t see my 6’5” frame in the mirror.

The doctor’s voice is subdued. “I apologize, Mr. Caine. This is the first time we’ve met.” I heard her flipping through some papers. “I see that you lost your vision following a car accident. I’m adding details here, so hopefully, you won’t have to repeat yourself quite so often.”

I sighed, my shoulders hunching forward. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on someone who is clearly trying to help me.” I lifted my hand to pledge, “ I solemnly promise to try to be less of a jerk.” I flash my most disarming smile. I used to practice it in the mirror. My mom says I still have the same pearly whites, but moms are supposed to say stuff like that, especially when they’re trying to keep their 34-year-old son from going nuts.

Even if my cheesy grin could have worked on Dr. Carter, I’ll never know for two reasons: 1. I can’t see her reaction. 2. I heard a drawer shut across the room, and then the stretching of some gloves, so I know she turned away while I was daydreaming.

She said, “Mr. Caine…”

I interrupted, “Please, call me Matt.”

”Very well, Matt, I’m going to feel around a bit near your eyes. You let me know if anything hurts or changes.”

I couldn’t resist. The moment she touched my face, I blurted, “Wait! Something’s happening!” I pretended to look at my hands. “I can see!”

She gasped.

I continued, “I can see green flickering lights again.”

“Hey!” She playfully smacked my arm. “You promised not to be a jerk.”

“Sorry. I wish I could have seen your expression. I’ll bet it was priceless!”

She coughed and said, “I’m going to continue now. As much as I’m enjoying this banter, I do have other patients.”

As she pulled on my eyelids and poked around my head, I asked, “What made you become a neurologist?”

She typed something on what sounded like a laptop, and then she touched my eyes again. She explained, “My dad is an ophthalmologist. I wanted to delve deeper, behind the eyes. I think the brain is a fascinating muscle.”

“I suppose it is. You must have a keen brain of your own. You sound very young to have gone through medical school.”

“Are you flirting with me, Matt?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Is it working? What do you say, Doc? Are you going to give me a different kind of green light?”

“I’m 32, which is old enough to know better than to date a patient.”

“Come on, I haven’t had any fun in six months. I can be a charming guy. Just ask my mom. She’s in the waiting room. I can request a different doctor, if that makes you feel better.”

“No, your case intrigues me. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but there is a possibility that surgery will improve your vision.”

“That’s the best news I’ve ever heard in a long time. The driver who caused the accident may be paying for my medical care, but that doesn’t erase the mental anguish I’m going through. My chart probably doesn’t tell you that I was a commercial pilot, not exactly something I can do now.”

“I’m sorry, Matt, you’re right." I could hear her gently breathing. Was she considering my request? Finally, she said, "Tell you what, on Friday, I’m having a casual get together with some friends from my yoga class. If your mom can give you a ride there, I’ll make sure you have some fun and arrange for your way home. Don’t go bragging to friends. This is not a date. It’s a friendly invitation.”

I held up my right hand, palm out. “Got it, thanks. Anyway, what’s your first name?”

“Jennifer, but you can call me Jen. I’ll give your mom my address. She’ll want to hear about the prospective surgery anyway.”

*

Friday, butterflies were doing a cha-cha in my stomach. I don’t remember being so nervous for a date, or party. My mom insisted on buying a very fragrant bouquet of flowers. She led me to Jen’s door by the arm and rang the bell. I heard the latch click.

“Matt, you made it!” I recognized Jen’s soft voice. “Mrs. Caine, it’s good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”

My mom chuckled. “No, dear, I’ll leave you youngsters to have your fun.” She patted my hand and placed it in the smaller, softer hand of Jen. I felt a butterfly do a cartwheel. Jen guided me in and closed the door behind us. I hoped I could live up to the claim of being charming.

Jen said, “What lovely flowers! I’ll introduce you to my friends and get these in some water.” She patiently guided me around a corner into what I assumed was the living room. “Everyone, this is Matt. Matt, this is Ann and her husband, Jack.”

Jack shook my hand firmly. Ann‘s hand was a spaghetti noodle comparatively. Jen continued, “This is Renee and her partner, Christine.”

Christine’s handshake was as firm as Jack’s. She said, “I prefer Chris.” Renee gave me a hug.

“Last but not least, this is Joe and Susan. She leads the yoga class.

Joe shook my hand and said, “Good to meet you.”

Susan, who smelled like a candle store, gave me a hug and spoke with her yoga-instructor voice, “You really must come try the class. With your height, it would be good for you to increase your flexibility.”

I smiled toward her and said, “I’ll consider it,” having no intention of doing so.

Jen said, “I’ll take care of the flowers. Matt, sit here. Don’t be shy.” She led me to a soft chair.

Joe asked, “So, Matt, what do you do for a living?”

I smirked, “I’m an airline pilot. I haven’t crashed one yet, so they just keep giving me chances to do so.”

Joe guffawed while others snickered faintly.

“Seriously,” I continued, “I was a pilot until a car accident. I haven’t figured out what to do next. Jen is going to try some surgery. Maybe I’ll get lucky and see more than these annoying sparkling green lights.“ I turned toward where I had heard Joe’s voice. “What do you do, Joe?”

“Me? I drive a water delivery truck. When I brought five gallons to the yoga class, I just knew I had to hook up with the most beautiful woman I’d ever set eyes on.”

Susan cooed, “Oh,” and I heard a smooch.

Jen returned, and announced, “We’re going to play a game. Don’t worry, Matt, it’s auditory. It’s called, ‘Would You Rather.’ Renee and Chris helped me write up these cards. When it’s your turn, you answer. That’s it. No winners or losers, just fun. Jack, you start.”

Jack read his card, “Would you rather eat grasshoppers or worms. That’s easy. I like a little crunch in my food, so grasshoppers.” People chuckled.

Ann, his wife, drew next. Her nasally voice made me cringe. “Would you rather lay on a bed of nails or go bungee jumping? Ugh, I don’t like the idea of falling, so I’ll go with the bed of nails.”

Jen said, “Your turn, Matt. Pick one and I’ll read.” I felt in front of me, took a card, and held it out. Jen read, “Would you rather kiss a sea slug or a llama?”

I tapped my chin, contemplating. “I’d rather kiss Jennifer.” The room erupted with sounds of laughter, gasps, and “Ooos.” I felt a smack on my arm. I continued, “…but if I must choose, I’ll go with the one which wouldn’t spit in my face, the slug.”

Jen whispered in my ear, sending prickly sensations down my neck, “Good answer.”

After finishing the game, we had a lovely potluck meal. I felt badly for not contributing, but Jen said they always had more than enough. She helped me fill my plate, telling me what was at each clock position. She offered iced tea, wine, or beer. I chose the latter.

The conversation was casual, cordial, and often humorous. I didn’t want the evening to end. Eventually, everyone filtered out the door, and Jen called for an Uber ride. While we waited, she said, “I really enjoyed your charming company this evening. Thank you for coming.” She pulled my head toward her and pressed her lips to my cheek. I turned and caught her lips with mine, gently at first, then adding some pressure. I slipped my tongue in her mouth and she answered with hers. My head was spinning. I pulled away and whispered, “Let’s plan on doing some more of that.”

Her voice sounded husky and breathy, “Yes, one more right now.” She pressed her body against mine, turning up the heat. I curled my fingers into her hair. She moaned. Or was that me? I heard a car pull up. We both moaned out of disappointment.

“Jen,” I murmured, “No matter what happens with my vision, I will have an image of this moment with me for the rest of my life.”

Jen sighed and hugged me. “Good answer. I could get used to spending more time with you, if you’re amenable.”

“Absolutely!”

Epilogue

The surgery restored partial vision. The first person I was able to see, although a bit blurry, was my beautiful new girlfriend. The green lights were gone, replaced by her sparking green eyes and radiant smile. I still can’t fly, so I became an instructor for the ground school, and I can copilot some test flights.

I joined the yoga class. If nothing else, I got to watch Jen do the downward facing dog.

We dated for a year. Then, I hired a friend to fly a banner behind his plane. It said, “I love you, Jen. Marry me!”

She threw her arms around me, kissed me warmly, and exclaimed, “Yes!”