sugar-water, the driver’s side door opens and a cold wind blasts into the car. I shiver. “Dammit. I should have thought of something warm, instead. I wish hot chocolate could be converted into a weapon for self-mutilation…”
“I also got us some potato chips,” Owen tells us. “That should keep us going for the rest of the trip!”
“Couldn’t you have gotten something more substantial?” Liam asks him. “Like maybe some sandwiches?”
“But you love potato chips!” Owen says to his friend in astonishment. “They’re your guilty pleasure. You have some tucked away in your office at work, and all over your house… you can never get enough of potato chips. I thought you’d like them.”
“I do,” Liam says in dismay, “but you could have tried to make me seem a little more mature in front of Helen. You could have avoided sharing my dirty secrets with the highly respected author that we just met.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him gently. “I like potato chips too. I’m just surprised at how… casual you both seem.”
“We work really hard all week,” Owen says, with his mouth full of potato chips. “We need to let loose sometime and just be ourselves.”
Liam starts up the car and begins to drive away from the gas station. I instantly feel safe. A wave of comfort washes over me. Sliding off my boots, I pull my legs up underneath my body and snuggle deeper into the soft fabric of the backseat. I remember the way it felt to be driven around by my father when I was younger. I remember being cozy and warm as I listened to the sound of my father’s laughter, while staring out the glass window and imagining all the things I could not see. I remember my mother describing the landscapes; fields of cows relaxing lazily in the sun, majestic mountains covered in snow at their peaks, and bridges that stretched farther than the horizon out over the ocean. I remember deserts and double rainbows, waterfalls and fire-breathing dragons—well, my mother might have taken some liberties with the landscape. My sister and father would often join in with the fantastic storytelling, but I never minded the fiction too much.
I did become a writer, after all.
Liam’s driving is so calm and solid compared to Owen’s. I can’t help thinking that I wish I could be driving with him forever. Even if we never get to my sister’s wedding, it will have been worth it to me for the trip. I haven’t had this much fun in years, and it’s so nice to be around other human beings. These two doctors are so silly and nice, and I simply love road trips. Liam’s words from earlier come back to me, unbidden, and I try to shut them out. For some reason, the doctor’s words really did make me feel special and important. I had not realized that my work had caused such a great impact on anyone. I am suddenly stricken with the realization of what’s happening.
Am I really doing this? Am I really in a car with two men I just met, heading back to New York? Am I really going to have a chance at getting my vision back? Could it be possible? Am I really going to see my family? For a few minutes, I get lost in thoughts of my mother and father. I remember how much they loved each other. I remember Carmen’s boundless energy and enthusiasm, and how she could never miss an opportunity to insult or tease me. I remember when things were good.
“Tell us a s tory, Helen.” My mother’s voice filled my mind. “You’re such a great storyteller. One day, you’re going to be an illustrious writer. Blind or not, you’re going to take the world by storm. That’s why I named you after Helen Keller. She never let anything stop her! Neither will you.”
The memory is almost too bittersweet to bear. I realize that I have forgotten to lick my popsicle for several seconds, and the juice is dripping down onto my hand.
“Oh, that’s right!” Owen said suddenly. “I was going to tell you two about the popsicle-porno!”
Liam and I
“I also got us some potato chips,” Owen tells us. “That should keep us going for the rest of the trip!”
“Couldn’t you have gotten something more substantial?” Liam asks him. “Like maybe some sandwiches?”
“But you love potato chips!” Owen says to his friend in astonishment. “They’re your guilty pleasure. You have some tucked away in your office at work, and all over your house… you can never get enough of potato chips. I thought you’d like them.”
“I do,” Liam says in dismay, “but you could have tried to make me seem a little more mature in front of Helen. You could have avoided sharing my dirty secrets with the highly respected author that we just met.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him gently. “I like potato chips too. I’m just surprised at how… casual you both seem.”
“We work really hard all week,” Owen says, with his mouth full of potato chips. “We need to let loose sometime and just be ourselves.”
Liam starts up the car and begins to drive away from the gas station. I instantly feel safe. A wave of comfort washes over me. Sliding off my boots, I pull my legs up underneath my body and snuggle deeper into the soft fabric of the backseat. I remember the way it felt to be driven around by my father when I was younger. I remember being cozy and warm as I listened to the sound of my father’s laughter, while staring out the glass window and imagining all the things I could not see. I remember my mother describing the landscapes; fields of cows relaxing lazily in the sun, majestic mountains covered in snow at their peaks, and bridges that stretched farther than the horizon out over the ocean. I remember deserts and double rainbows, waterfalls and fire-breathing dragons—well, my mother might have taken some liberties with the landscape. My sister and father would often join in with the fantastic storytelling, but I never minded the fiction too much.
I did become a writer, after all.
Liam’s driving is so calm and solid compared to Owen’s. I can’t help thinking that I wish I could be driving with him forever. Even if we never get to my sister’s wedding, it will have been worth it to me for the trip. I haven’t had this much fun in years, and it’s so nice to be around other human beings. These two doctors are so silly and nice, and I simply love road trips. Liam’s words from earlier come back to me, unbidden, and I try to shut them out. For some reason, the doctor’s words really did make me feel special and important. I had not realized that my work had caused such a great impact on anyone. I am suddenly stricken with the realization of what’s happening.
Am I really doing this? Am I really in a car with two men I just met, heading back to New York? Am I really going to have a chance at getting my vision back? Could it be possible? Am I really going to see my family? For a few minutes, I get lost in thoughts of my mother and father. I remember how much they loved each other. I remember Carmen’s boundless energy and enthusiasm, and how she could never miss an opportunity to insult or tease me. I remember when things were good.
“Tell us a s tory, Helen.” My mother’s voice filled my mind. “You’re such a great storyteller. One day, you’re going to be an illustrious writer. Blind or not, you’re going to take the world by storm. That’s why I named you after Helen Keller. She never let anything stop her! Neither will you.”
The memory is almost too bittersweet to bear. I realize that I have forgotten to lick my popsicle for several seconds, and the juice is dripping down onto my hand.
“Oh, that’s right!” Owen said suddenly. “I was going to tell you two about the popsicle-porno!”
Liam and I
Similar Books
