Status: workin' on it...
Behind the Façade
Blame
---------Carson-----------
I stand in front of the mirror, staring vacantly at my bruised reflection. Sighing, I pick up my bottle of concealer and dab at the large purple bruise that claims its spot just to the left of my mouth. After that one is unnoticeable, I dab at the next one, a small one under my right eye, and then work around the rest of my face, covering up my father’s disreputable tracks.
When I finish, the sun is starting to rise and my face looks as good as new. Nobody will ever know what had happened last night when I came home. Nobody will ever even notice - they never did.
I toss the empty bottle of concealer, letting it join the others in the bottom of my trash can. There are so many bottles in that trash can by now it can rightfully be called a collection. But buying and using concealer is anything but a hobby.
I walk over and sit down on the edge of my bed, facing a large bay window. Silent and still, I watch as night and all of its glory gets drawn out by morning’s soft pink glow. A glittering gold ball of fire lifts its tired head over the great cityscape in the distance, casting a dazzling gold reflection upon the tops of the evergreen trees that grow across the street.
“What is it?” Brianna asks. I jump, startled, and turn to see her standing behind me. Her long brown hair is grown to her elbows and wide sunglasses that permanently rest on her beautiful pale face. Her face is directed right at me, almost as if she were watching me. But that was impossible. How long had she been there? I hadn’t even noticed her come in. “What are you doing, I mean?”
“Watching the sunrise,” I say, disguising my voice with a mood of vivacity. Someone of the two of us has to be brave, and it can’t be Brianna. I turn back to the window. It was horrible to think about everything Brianna had missed because of her eyes. And everything she will miss.
“I remember the sun,” she says reminiscently. “It was like…a golden coin…that watched over you… always. It…followed you.”
“What is it like?” I ask hesitantly. “To be blind…”
“It’s like…being cut off from the world. You don’t really know what’s going on…At first you can’t even do anything by yourself. And sometimes it’s scary. You hear a noise and you don’t know where it’s coming from, especially when you’re outside. So much noise, so much chaos, and I’m just lost in the middle of it, not knowing what’s going on, not knowing what to do. I’ve gotten used to it by now, or more than I used to, anyway.”
I sit silently, taking this all in. And then I think something that had been haunting my mind for a while now. What if it had been me? What if I could have saved Brianna? If I had come home only five minutes earlier, maybe Brianna would be able to see now. If only I had gone straight home, if only I hadn’t petted the poor dog who was tied to the lamppost around the corner, if only I hadn’t stopped to talk to my neighbor down the street, if only I had ran home instead of dragging my feet in apprehensiveness of what was to come. If I had done any of these things, Brianna would never have gone blind.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Brianna says softly. It shocks me how much she knows without being able to see. I open my mouth to answer her, to tell her not to worry about it, but she speaks before I can. “I know you blame yourself for it. It’s why you’re so protective of me, it’s why you always come home exactly five minutes before father does, it’s why you always push me into my room as soon as you hear him come in. It’s why when I talked about being blind you always go silent, it’s why you’ve never spoken about the night I went blind. It’s why you’ve never wanted to see my eyes.” I open my mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. A tear forms in the corner of my eye, and I quickly wipe it away.
“Don’t admonish yourself,” Brianna advises me, sitting down carefully on my bed. I wipe another tear from my eye, trying to stay calm and brave for her. She moves her hand around my bedspread, searching for mine. I take hold of it, cold and smooth like marble, and squeeze it gently. “You were eleven,” she continues softly. “It’s okay. You’re not to blame.”
“Okay,” I say in the stable, perfect voice I use when hiding how I really feel.
“I don’t want you to worry about me so much, Carson. I’m not a cripple, and I’m not disabled. I’m not handicapped. I just don’t see the world the way you do.”
“Okay,” I repeat. “I know you’re not.”
Deep down, I know that I am still to blame.
I stand in front of the mirror, staring vacantly at my bruised reflection. Sighing, I pick up my bottle of concealer and dab at the large purple bruise that claims its spot just to the left of my mouth. After that one is unnoticeable, I dab at the next one, a small one under my right eye, and then work around the rest of my face, covering up my father’s disreputable tracks.
When I finish, the sun is starting to rise and my face looks as good as new. Nobody will ever know what had happened last night when I came home. Nobody will ever even notice - they never did.
I toss the empty bottle of concealer, letting it join the others in the bottom of my trash can. There are so many bottles in that trash can by now it can rightfully be called a collection. But buying and using concealer is anything but a hobby.
I walk over and sit down on the edge of my bed, facing a large bay window. Silent and still, I watch as night and all of its glory gets drawn out by morning’s soft pink glow. A glittering gold ball of fire lifts its tired head over the great cityscape in the distance, casting a dazzling gold reflection upon the tops of the evergreen trees that grow across the street.
“What is it?” Brianna asks. I jump, startled, and turn to see her standing behind me. Her long brown hair is grown to her elbows and wide sunglasses that permanently rest on her beautiful pale face. Her face is directed right at me, almost as if she were watching me. But that was impossible. How long had she been there? I hadn’t even noticed her come in. “What are you doing, I mean?”
“Watching the sunrise,” I say, disguising my voice with a mood of vivacity. Someone of the two of us has to be brave, and it can’t be Brianna. I turn back to the window. It was horrible to think about everything Brianna had missed because of her eyes. And everything she will miss.
“I remember the sun,” she says reminiscently. “It was like…a golden coin…that watched over you… always. It…followed you.”
“What is it like?” I ask hesitantly. “To be blind…”
“It’s like…being cut off from the world. You don’t really know what’s going on…At first you can’t even do anything by yourself. And sometimes it’s scary. You hear a noise and you don’t know where it’s coming from, especially when you’re outside. So much noise, so much chaos, and I’m just lost in the middle of it, not knowing what’s going on, not knowing what to do. I’ve gotten used to it by now, or more than I used to, anyway.”
I sit silently, taking this all in. And then I think something that had been haunting my mind for a while now. What if it had been me? What if I could have saved Brianna? If I had come home only five minutes earlier, maybe Brianna would be able to see now. If only I had gone straight home, if only I hadn’t petted the poor dog who was tied to the lamppost around the corner, if only I hadn’t stopped to talk to my neighbor down the street, if only I had ran home instead of dragging my feet in apprehensiveness of what was to come. If I had done any of these things, Brianna would never have gone blind.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Brianna says softly. It shocks me how much she knows without being able to see. I open my mouth to answer her, to tell her not to worry about it, but she speaks before I can. “I know you blame yourself for it. It’s why you’re so protective of me, it’s why you always come home exactly five minutes before father does, it’s why you always push me into my room as soon as you hear him come in. It’s why when I talked about being blind you always go silent, it’s why you’ve never spoken about the night I went blind. It’s why you’ve never wanted to see my eyes.” I open my mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. A tear forms in the corner of my eye, and I quickly wipe it away.
“Don’t admonish yourself,” Brianna advises me, sitting down carefully on my bed. I wipe another tear from my eye, trying to stay calm and brave for her. She moves her hand around my bedspread, searching for mine. I take hold of it, cold and smooth like marble, and squeeze it gently. “You were eleven,” she continues softly. “It’s okay. You’re not to blame.”
“Okay,” I say in the stable, perfect voice I use when hiding how I really feel.
“I don’t want you to worry about me so much, Carson. I’m not a cripple, and I’m not disabled. I’m not handicapped. I just don’t see the world the way you do.”
“Okay,” I repeat. “I know you’re not.”
Deep down, I know that I am still to blame.
♠ ♠ ♠
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