Page 59 of Stops Along the Way
“Don’t tell me what to do” tumbles out of my mouth as a gut reaction, but I return to my chair.
My sister wipes her hand on her forehead and sighs. “Okay, well, how am I pretending? Other than just growing up and trying new things?”
I search for my strongest argument. “Like, not telling your new friends about your vision.”
She tilts her chin, fielding the comment that must’ve seemed to come out of nowhere. “That’s what you’re being so dramatic about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t thinkI’ddo the same. It can’t be healthy for you to be hiding such a big part of who you are.”
“It’s a big part ofwhoI am?” Amelia unpacks this. “Or is it just how I exist in the world? It doesn’t have to be everything. It doesn’t have to be the first thing someone new knows about me. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on this whole situation.” She goes in for the kill. “But you know what? Ifyouget Stargardt’s, thenyoucan try something different.”
I’m quiet.
Maybe too quiet.
Amelia is quick to walk back her words. “You probably won’t. It isn’t even worth talking about.”
I stare down at the table, wondering if she’ll even realize that I’m no longer making eye contact. “Easy for you to say.”
“Easy formeto say?” The lines that crease across her forehead scream that I misspoke.
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…it’s heavy.”
“Okay.” Her voice is still terse, but her expression has softened.
“It’s hard to be calm about the likelihood of both my hearing and vision slipping away from me,” I explain. “I try to think logically about it, but it’s not a verylogicalthing and therefore hard to be rational about. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to understand, and—”
“Iris.” Amelia nods multiple times, like she’s going to give me some real talk that will solve this. “I mean this in the nicest possible way. Shut up.”
The metaphorical equivalent of slapping me across the face.
I’m pissed and gearing up to make this arealfight.
But then Amelia’s expression softens, her voice slowing down as she pulls out the worst possible move in a spat: She goes and says something nice. “I’m sorry you’re trying to process all that and feeling like I’ve been abandoning you.” Is she starting to tear up? Shit, I didn’t mean to make her cry. “I mean, you arealwaysgoing to be in my life. And I’m sorry if sometimes I take that for granted and don’t make enough time for just the two of us. Because I love spending time with you. Really. You’re my favorite person in the entire world.”
“Yeah…” I cross my arms but feel slightly appeased. “Same.”
She taps her fingers on the table while she steadies herself again. “I know you already know this, but I feel like there’s one other thing that needs to be said.”
My stomach twists. I have no idea what this could possibly be about. “What?”
“It’s just—well, just because I stopped playing Rivalry doesn’t mean you would need to.”
“Why would I stop playing?” I ask, not immediately putting two and two together.
“You don’t need to,” she repeats. “But just in case for some reason you think my diagnosis and stopping playing went hand in hand. That wasn’t the reason. You could keep playing.”
Something settles within me that I hadn’t realized was concerned. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry I dismissed the large-print version you found. That was a little snobby of me.”
“Wait,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Can you say that again and record it?”
Amelia shakes her head, the way she does when I’m making a joke out of a serious conversation. “I’m only saying maybe we could try playing again together sometime. Since it’s important to you. How about we do something Saturday?”
I shake my head, annoyed that she forgot about one of my biggest plans of the summer. “I’ll be at the expo all day…”
Without missing a beat, she says, “I could come with!”
