"I'm sorry to say this Mrs. Anton but, it appears that your eyesight might have gotten worse from the last time I saw you." The doctor flipped through his chart, careful not to miss a thing.
It was cold in his office and the ticking clock was driving me insane. I held back my tears as I gaze upon the semi-blurry figure that sat across from me. His brown eyes now meshed together with his pale complexion, it was hard to recognize where his hair started and where his beard ended.
"The best we can do for you is offer you more Prostaglandin but that will only help temporarily, seeing as your eyesight is getting worse by the second"
Thanks doc.
I could hear the scribble on his notepad stop. I felt his eyes staring back at me, those pitiful eyes.
He sighed and tapped on his desk.
"I'm really sorry Mrs. Anton. I can't imagine what you must be thinking...", he placed a cold hand on mine and squeezed gently before letting go and writing more on his notepad. "This is the prescription for more Prostaglandin."
He slid the paper to my fingertips and I carefully pulled it close to me. "I hope to see you back again in a few months."
I don't say anything to him because what exactly can I say. The man has seen me through my worst with my eyesight problems so he knows how I'm doing. He knows how I am.
I get up from the chair and go for the door. I miss the doorknob and try to hold back my fighting tears as I fumble for it. I heard him sigh and he reached for it instead. I hear the door creak open and look at the blurred man whose help I didn't want but needed. I give him a little nod and a barely visible smile before heading out of his office.
"Do you have anyone to drive you home?", he asked, I could hear the restraint in his voice. I finally speak up after not talking to him the whole time.
"Yes, my sister will be here any minute." I give him another smile before walking along the corridor that lead to the outside world. I graze my hand along the walls as I walked.
I felt the sun on my skin as soon as I stepped outside. I could hear the sound of people talking as they walked past me with not a care in the world. I envy them.
The sound of a car honking frightened me, causing me to take a few steps back. "Nia! Over here!", my sister called out to me. I didn't move, I didn't want to risk bumping into someone so I waited for her to come to me. She sighed and muttered something under her breath before getting out the car. I felt her hands on my back and my lower arm as she guided me to the car. A sense of relief washed over me.
"Sorry Nia, I keep forgetting about your eyesight thing..."
How? It's the only thing I've been talking about for the past year.
"It's alright, Alys." It's not. "It's alright." I sighed and carefully walked to the car. She opens the door for me and helps me inside. Once she closes my door, she rushes to her side and gets in. I could feel her pitiful eyes on me, and I groaned. "Not now, Alyssa. Please..."
"I didn't even say anything!" she objects and starts the car. I feel the car move underneath me and I finally sit back in my seat, trying to get an ounce of relaxation. "But since you mentioned it, when is he coming back? It's been a week already-"
"Tonight. He's coming back tonight, so don't worry, you don't need to drive me or the kids around as much anymore."
"That's not the problem, Nia, and you know that. Look, you know I love you and my niece and nephew, but...it's not right." She sighs, and she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. "He gets to go off on these luxurious trips for work while his wife, who is blind, is at home taking care of the kids. He should stay home every once in a while."
I sigh and lean my head against the car window. I heard her complain about Evan all the time; this isn't new. I'm just tired of hearing it, even if she's somewhat right. "You know he can't do that. His work permits him to go on these trips."
"But even if it does, he can always say no."
"He is the sole provider for the house, the bills, the kids' education, everything. He can't just "say no" to his job, Alys." I say, the frustration I feel for the repeated conversation is strong.
I don't expect my sister to know these things, seeing as she is single and just lounges around our parents' house all day.
"Still...it's not like he's even trying to fight back. Overthrow the patriarchy and all that crap. It's like he's happy to just up and leave you with all the responsibilities."
"It's not like that Alys-"
"Yeah, well...it feels like it to me." She sighs and releases her grip on the steering wheel. "Just be smart about all this, Nia. I don't want you to get hurt because of someone like him. You deserve better."
"Thanks, Alys, but I can handle Evan. I trust him and I know that he's doing all this in the sake of our family."
She doesn't say anything else to me and focuses on the road. All I wanted to do now was go home and rest, but I couldn't.
A mother never rests; there is always something to do.
My mom used to tell me that when I would beg her to take a break from time to time. I used to scoff at her metaphors, but now I know she was right. Even when I'm like this, I still have matters to attend to.
Alyssa opens the car door for me, which takes me out of my unmindful state. "We made it, Nia. Come on, Jaxson's about to play for the first time, and I don't wanna miss it."
"Yeah, Alyssa, let me just quickly get out of the car and fall on my face." I say, only half-joking.
"Oh, right, sorry." Alyssa carefully grabs my forearm and helps me out of the car. "I really hope this medicine works this time. Not sure how long I can do this. You're pretty needy, Nia" Alyssa jokes, trying to lighten the already sour mood.
I roll my eyes, and we both walk over to the benches. I could hear the switch between the soft grass and the hard gravel underneath me. Alyssa helps me sit down before sitting down herself. A few moments passed before I heard a loud buzzer, scaring me. I then hear the crowd cheering as the soccer players come onto the field. I look around and try to find the blurred figure that I call a son.
"Jaxson just came out. He's waving at us" Alyssa says, probably waving back at him. I try my best to wave at him as well. I could hear a familiar sigh coming from Alyssa, which usually indicated that I wasn't looking in the right direction.
I try my best to keep track of my blurred son as the players run across the field. I could hear snickering coming from other moms behind me, most likely targeted towards me. I truly believe that the moms who attended these soccer games have it out for me and my so-called perfect life. They don't know much about my problematic eyesight or my absent husband. All they see is me trying to make them look bad in front of everyone.
Yes, I have bad eyesight, and yes, I do pack oranges for my kid's soccer games every weekend. At least, I'm trying to do my best. All I have are those packed oranges.
I haven't been able to do much for the last few months with my eyesight getting increasing worse. People look like blobs of mixed Play-Doh, and I can never tell who my children are by looking at them; I need to wait for them to speak. But of course, I have the "perfect life" so I can't complain- or I'm not supposed to.
Anyone would be lucky to be me.
I got married when I was 19 and divorced at 23, and now I'm stuck in this marriage with a guy that I love, but not enough.
Anyone would be lucky to be me.
I have a son from one man and a daughter from another. I try to do all the cleaning, cooking, and putting the kids to bed at a decent time without any help, and when I ask for it, I'm called ungrateful.
Anyone would be lucky to be me.
I have terrible eyesight, and I want to cry every time I speak to my children because I can never recognize them from one another.
I want them to have a mother who can attend a ballet recital without squinting. I want them to have a mother who doesn't have to ask them for their assistance in the kitchen because I'm too terrified to grab anything off the counter. I want to be that mother for them, and it's hard.
It's hard asking for help. It's hard to need help from someone who goes on trips the moment they are responsible for something outside of work. But of course, I need to do it all and be grateful because anyone would be lucky to be me.
As I look upon the many blurry figures running across the field, I force a smile because hey-- at least I have those packed oranges.