Page 31 of Seen
“You have amazing skin,” Luke observes. “I didn’t realise until you were lying on the floor of the office with that bright light shining on you.”
It’s a new one on me, but I’m not shying away from a compliment. “Thank you. Usually, people tell me I have amazingeyes.” I huff. “There’s the irony. They’ll be mostly ornamental soon.”
I like that Luke doesn’t immediately throw back a few platitudes. I can’t deal with feigning false hope. RP’s sinister game is relentless. There are no miracle cures. It treats every sufferer the same.
Luke’s exploring finger dusts over one of my eyebrows. “What scares you the most about gradually losing your vision?”
“I don’t know where to start,” I answer honestly. “There’s so much.”
“Just name one thing.”
I’m not used to admitting to any sort of fear about anything. I’m one of life’s winners, not some shrinking violet scared of his own shadow.
But…some days the list feels endless. Luke, who’s already seen me scared shitless, waits for me to speak again.
“I’m not like you,” I begin. “I can’t lay it all out, even in my own head, never mind explain it to someone else. You’ve heard me try—I just get angry and want to throw stuff.”
“Pick one thing,” he persists. “Anything. Big or small.”
I think back to my aborted trip to Moorfields. Sitting in that forbidding leather chair as the ophthalmologist plunged the room into darkness. The sensation of a thread pulling ever tighter around my chest as she examined my eyes. The crawling, suffocating heat of her body trapped against mine. Then running down the corridor, out into the open air, the clean, fresh air that still didn’t feel like enough. As if I was fighting to breathe through a pinhole.
“I think I’m scared of losing the essence of me. I’m scared of being seen as someone with a disability, someone blind. Not as Neil Sainsbury, that cool, fun, successful guy who owns a bar and sings in a band.” And then with a shocking, upsetting burst of clarity, I add, “I like being me. I like my life; it’s a good one.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I test the truth of it. I rarely, if ever, analyse myself. What you see is what you get. Neil Sainsbury, sexy and confident, outgoing, happy-go-lucky. Not this guy here now, verging on tears. I laugh, trying to lighten things, but it comes out as more of a sob.
Fuck, have I already lost myself? We’re supposed to be on a date, snogging on the sofa. Luke should be blown away by my natural charm and wit.
“Sorry,” I manage. “I’m not usually like this.”
“It’s fine.”
Luke pulls me to him. Hugs me tight. No solutions offered, no fixes, no more words, in fact. Nothing but a hug telling me I’m not alone. At least not tonight.
I find him a toothbrush and a towel. We didn’t really discuss Luke staying, but we’re both falling asleep on the sofa, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Him going home seems pointless. I usually sleep naked, but while he’s in the bathroom, I groggily dig out a set of pyjama bottoms I received about ten Christmases ago and have worn precisely zero times. When Luke emerges, one hand fiddling with a tuft of hair at his ear, I’ve paired them with a T-shirt in the hope I look like someone’s unthreatening dad, so he doesn’t change his mind and scarper.
Luke has removed his jeans, which wakes me up a bit, my temporary weakness back in the sitting room forgotten. His bare legs are slim, toned, and not too hairy. Exactly as I like them. The bottom hem of his black boxers peeks out from under his hoodie. He folds his jeans on the back of a chair as if it’s a complex task, eyes flicking towards the bed.
“You good?” I ask. “Got everything you need?”
“Yeah.” He sounds anything but. “I’m going to keep this…” He gestures to his covered head.
“Listen.” I take one of his hands in mine. “When you’re ready, you’ll show me. Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. It’s late on a Saturday night, and I’ve managed to lure a pretty man into my room. Trust me, life’s not too terrible.”
Teasing the tiniest of smiles from him feels like a win. Taking charge further, I pull the covers aside.
“I tend to lie in this half. If you want, you can stay totally on the other side or come over and join me for a cuddle.”
Luke gets comfy on his side, facing me. About a foot separates us. His eyes peer darkly out from under his hood, semaphoring every one of his anxious thoughts.I’m here, but I’m not sure if I want to be, they’re saying. Something tells me this is going to be the slowest seduction since Darcy wooed Elizabeth by repeatedly and forcefully damning every aspect of her entire existence.
Strangely, I’m up for the challenge.
“Can I keep the bedside light on a low setting while we talk?” I ask. “I won’t be able to see you at all, otherwise.”
“That’s fine. Sometimes, I sleep better with a light on. If I’m restless, I think it cons my mind that I’m not desperately trying to be asleep.”
See? Another thing we have in common, except I’ve started keeping the light on so I don’t fall arse over tit when I get up to piss in the middle of the night.
“What made you realise your RP is more of a problem now than before?” he asks.
