When Time Stood Still Read online

  When Time Stood Still

  By K.S. Adkins

  Copyright © 2015 K.S. ADKINS

  Published by K.S. Adkins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: K.S. Adkins 2015

  Other works by K.S. Adkins:

  The Detroit After Dark Series: Available now!

  Brutal

  Brawler

  Berserk

  Ballistic

  8 Mile & Rion

  Convincing Bet

  Motown Throwdown (Motown Down #1)

  Motown Showdown (Motown Down #2)

  “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision” ~Helen Keller

  I was going to travel the world.

  I was going to take in all of its wonders.

  I would capture it through my lens.

  I would tell my story with paints on a canvas.

  I would share my adventures with my children knowing one day they would have their own.

  The world was mine for the taking, until it disappeared.

  The day the world lost color.

  I missed my mom.

  Sitting here in this sterile office with no color minus the outdated magazines on the table, I really missed her. She was full of color and advice. If she were here she would be holding my hand, keeping me calm as only your mom can. But she wasn’t here and I wasn’t calm.

  I was racing against a clock I couldn’t see.

  When my name was called, I sucked in a breath, grabbed my bag and went to exam room two as instructed. Sitting in the chair, the smell of rubbing alcohol burns my nose. These walls match those in the lobby, no color, no warmth and no hope. The light is too bright, making me squint while the walls feel like they’re screaming at me.

  Well, I was screaming too.

  I was just doing it silently, like an adult.

  A doctor comes in, her name doesn’t register and when she looks my way it’s through me. She’s wearing white too and I feel taking a marker and drawing a flower on her lab coat to give it some flair.

  She continues to speak, I pretend to listen to her words. White noise.

  She uses a soothing tone others might like, though for some reason, I found it annoying. When she asks me to explain the problems with my vision, I do. I also do my best to keep the answers simple so she can follow them. While she acted like she cared, I watched as her fingers danced over her cell phone. Probably checking her Facebook or eharmony profile and I couldn’t blame her, I wouldn’t want to listen to me either.

  She moves me over to the exam chair where I’m asked to press my forehead against the phoropter. I hear a series of clicks at first then she dims the light in the room and then the wall comes into focus. On cue, I recite the letters I can see and pause in frustration at those I can’t.

  When we moved on to colors I focused even harder; positive I was doing it well. I lived for colors, I knew them all, this was cake. Then the clicking was back and the colors disappeared. I thought the test was over until she asked me to identify the colors I saw. I only saw black.

  The void.

  With fear clawing at me, I ignore her scribbles on paper until her chair rolls back over to me. When she shines a white light into my eyes causing me to jerk back in my seat, she tells me we’re finished and to wait here, as if I had another alternative.

  Blinking the spots away, I ignore the white doing its best to suffocate me and succeeding.

  Minutes later, she comes in with a pamphlet and a business card telling me he’s the best in his field. In a detached voice, she explains my condition and with a detached mind, I listen.

  It wouldn’t be until dinner when I sat alone at my table surrounded by the colors I loved, that I opened the pamphlet. With my ridiculously thick glasses I read through, flipped it over and read it again.

  Rubbing my eyes, I almost laughed at how silly I reacted today to being stuck in a room full of white. Reflecting on it, I decided to be thankful for it because according to this doctor, someday I wouldn’t see anything at all.

  I was going blind.

  For the next few weeks I refused to call that number. Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt and I had all but convinced myself she was full of shit. Focusing on my paintings, the pieces that needed to be finished, invoicing and prepping the others to ship that afternoon, I had it under control. I was fine.

  Until, I drove myself to the post office and hit a parked car. Fine, two parked cars. Once the shock wore off, I told myself, those cars were not there when I pulled in. I saw the spot, it had my name on it and it was empty. But when the police showed up there was no denying the fact; I did see the spot. However, I did not see the cars parked on either side of it. A week later my insurance dropped me. This was my fifth accident in less than a year and I was at fault for all of them.

  Placing an ad, I sold my car to the first person who offered me a fair price, knowing I’d never drive again. These were just a few examples of the freedoms I was losing. My work was suffering too. I could no longer argue that the piece I sent was the piece ordered when not one customer complained, but a half dozen.

  A week later, after falling down my steps (again) I made the call.

  Reading over my newest patient’s chart, I grab the appropriate information she’ll require to get her ready to face her blindness. These types of consults were never easy. Especially in cases like this where the patient is so young and the disease so progressive. She would go through all of the stages of course; denial, anger and finally acceptance, but I as her doctor, would play no part in it. All I could do was set up a series of visits hoping to get her adjusted as quickly as possible. After the first visit they rarely come back. Not that I blame them for it. Once they look over the information they realized what I already knew.

  There wasn’t shit I could do for them.

  I was a board certified ophthalmologist yet I couldn’t help those who needed it most.

  Heading to the consult room, I give myself a moment before heading in. With limited resources at my disposal, I was backed into a corner. Add in insurance bullshit, most patients never received the help they needed so outside of handing them some recycled paper, there was nothing else I could do. I hated this, being the bearer of bad news, being helpless. The odds were good that she was going to cry, possibly hyperventilate, and probably hit me.

  Today was one of those days I wish I’d taken a job in construction, but no, I did as I was told and became a doctor. If you asked my father, an ophthalmologist wasn’t a medical doctor. Then again, if you asked my father anything about me, he’d find a reason to complain. I’ve been at this gig for seven years and every day is more boring than the first. This building, the people that work for me and everything that goes on inside of it. This practice, like my life, lacks…

  Opening the door, I see her sitting in a chair staring at the
white wall. As I watch her, I notice her hair is a deep brown with red highlights and more tones I couldn’t name. She must have had thirty colors in her hair. Her skin is somewhat fair but she holds color well as evidenced by the freckles on her nose. Each one of her finger nails are painted in a different color, all vibrant, all loud. Her nose is tiny with a shiny piercing in it, but I couldn’t see her eyes until she turned to face me. And when she did, her eyes were big, they were wise and they demanded the truth. My career is in vision but, I’d never seen eyes like this before. Hers were crystal blue like a stormy ocean and she even smelled like the sea. There was a storm brewing inside of her, I could feel it.

  “So much white,” she says with a sad smile. “The thing about white is it’s a base, a canvas to add color to. The trick is to find the tones that compliment your surroundings. When I see white walls like this, I want to grab my paints and tell a story. There’s no story here, it’s depressing.”

  Right then and there when she spoke, I knew what my life had been missing…color.

  She was color, not just one but, all of them.

  Standing up, she extends her hand and in a clear voice introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Time Taylor and you are?” taking her hand was as far as I was able to get. She was so pretty, so thin and so...bright. Leaning into me, she squints at the stitching on my lab coat and continues, “Dr. D. Green,” then let’s out a laugh, “My favorite color.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Taylor,” wondering how I was going to break her heart. Extending my arm, I show her a chair to sit in, afraid to open my mouth. My bedside manner has been criticized over the years and probably would be today too. Some habits were hard to break, some family traits, impossible. “You had trouble reading my name, didn’t you?”

  “Busted,” she says shrugging off my observation.

  When I opened her chart to discuss her history, she started tapping her foot; it was loud in this quiet room. Her impatience was eating at me which made it impossible to focus. When I took too long she bit her lip then proceeded to do my job for me, in detail. “I was wearing glasses in pre-school, by high school my rims were so thick I could barely study and hold my head up. Two years ago, I lost my night vision and stopped driving in the evening. Recently, I started having trouble distinguishing color. The dimming, as I call it, has begun to invade my line of sight; sometimes causing me not to see anything at all for small periods of time.”

  “Ms. Taylor,” I begin wishing there was more I could do.

  “Time,” she says and the tapping stopped. “Please, just call me Time and while you’re at it, tell me how much of it I have left.”

  Jesus, I was at a loss here. “When you saw Dr.—” I try again but she wasn’t having it. “Dr. What’s-her-name gave me a pamphlet and your card. Look Dr. D. Green, you’re the only ophthalmologist even close to where I live, you are my only option. I’ve already done my research and have an idea of what to expect when it happens. I need you to help me prepare for it, not treat it like a funeral. Kind of like you’re doing right now.”

  “Well, first let me ask you if you’d like to speak to a counselor or perhaps…”

  “I’m losing my sight not my mind, Dr. Green,” she says rolling her eyes. “I don’t need counseling, I need resources. I need you tell me the facts, like how much longer I’ll be able to work and what options I have when I can’t. You saw my chart, this is what you get paid for, so give it to me, how long do I have?”

  “With your progression, I estimate that within six months you’ll lose all ability to decipher color. From there, it’s hard to say, with regular visits I can narrow it down but I can’t tell you exactly when you’ll go blind.” Although I had a pretty good idea, I wasn’t saying shit. I had to give her time to come to terms with this, in steps. Especially when I noticed though she dressed very well, her clothes did not match, not even close. Either those close to her didn’t want to hurt her feelings by pointing it out, or she simply did not know it was already happening.

  “Why are you lying to me?” she demands, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know,” she says looking away. “I can tell by the pity pouring from you, you have more than an idea. You have degrees, I may not be able to see them but they’re there. If you can’t level with me then maybe you could send in someone who will. I’m going blind, this isn’t news. Tell me how long I have.”

  “A year,” I tell her softly. “Maybe more, I’d like you to start taking…”

  “Vitamin A,” she says standing up and tripping over the chair. But as if it never happened, she keeps talking. “Not Vitamin E, so what’s next?”

  “I’d like to put your name on the list for a leader dog,” still she doesn’t flip out.

  “Okay and then what?”

  “I would suggest getting set up with as much assistive technology as possible. There are many companies that lease the software out, if buying it is not affordable. Items such as; voice recognition software, magnifiers, lamps for low vision, braille handbooks and even reading machines. Also a mobility aid such as a cane or walker, depending on your preference.”

  “I can’t believe you said all that with a straight face,” she dead pans. “You’ve got the script down, I’ll give you that. So, minus the dog, which obviously isn’t waiting for me outside your door, how do I acquire these things?”

  Handing her a generic folder with my generic logo on it, I open it up and tell her, “Everything you’ll need is inside, if you have any questions all you have to do is call the office or your insurance company.”

  “Is this a joke?” she laughs handing it back to me. When I asked the receptionist to print it, I specifically asked for large print, the font was maybe a nine.

  “Christ,” I groan. “I’m sorry, Time.”

  “I’m not upset, Dr. Green,” she says easily. “When do I come back?”

  “I’d like to see you in two weeks,” which was a lie. I wanted to see her when I got off of work. I wanted to talk to her about something other than vision loss. Something that made her smile. Making her way toward the door, she extends her hand again, only this time she misjudged our proximity, I made the adjustment so she wouldn’t have to.

  “I promise I’ll never lose it inside your office if you promise to always be honest with me. I need the truth from you. Otherwise; I really am going in blind.”

  Laughing out loud, I shake her hand in agreement. “You have my word.”

  And when Time left the room, she took all the color with her.

  There were worse things than relying on public transportation. Like going blind, for instance. Or finding out you have a ridiculously hot doctor who’s afraid to tell you the truth. Strange though, I didn’t get the impression he had trouble speaking the truth to his patients in the past. He held back with me, like he wanted to spare me.

  Ha! Too late for that.

  With the folder in my bag, I was eager to get back home and read it. I had many more concerns than the few I voiced in the hot doc’s office. Such as, what would happen to me when my sight was gone? I lived alone, I had no family. Were there facilities for the blind? Would there be one here in Detroit? Outside of the city, I’m out of my element. I spend so much time outdoors on the streets that I was sure I could navigate them with my eyes closed if I had to. But when the time came¸ would I be able to?

  A leader dog, he’d said.

  I’ve always wanted a dog, even planned to someday. He was going to be my partner in crime, not keep me from getting run over by a car. Seriously, that kind of pressure takes the fun out of pet ownership.

  Some realities hit me harder than others at different times. Sitting here, the losses I would face were a physical ache. Like not seeing myself grow old, memorizing my children’s faces or seeing the tulip festival up in Holland. Never knowing when my eyebrows needed plucking or, if I had food stuck in my teeth. Slowly, I was able to let go of the little things like worrying if my clothes matched, or wearing
makeup. Small things like that didn’t distress me, those were superficial. I couldn’t bear thinking about hanging up my camera and stowing my paints. Just the thought sent my heart racing, made my hands clammy.

  My life was a series of slides. Images captured by me, forever ingrained in print or on canvas. The inevitable was the day that I would lose the way I saw the world. For just a moment I allowed myself to be selfish. Where I wished I was losing my hearing, not the one thing that gives me a sense of purpose. Not my portal to a million secret places, my kaleidoscope of colors, my dreams.

  Now my ass was starting to hurt. I feel like this was the day that refused to end. Where was my bus? Had I misread the schedule again? Probably…

  “Time?” peeking over my shoulder, I see my doctor there looking concerned. Perfect. Not only was he handsome and successful, he probably felt sorry for me too. My stomach actually dropped at the thought of never knowing my husband’s face, if I ever had a husband at all. Not that looks were everything but still…

  “Hi,” God, the humiliation was unspeakable. I didn’t want him to see me low like this. I didn’t want him to know I was embarrassed, that this was another loss for me. Losing the ability to drive in the daylight was a major setback. He didn’t need to know that I used to be a great driver, that I had loved my car, that I never missed an oil change and had cried for a week after selling it. I refused to let him see those things because it made my future…real. Reality needed to jump off my fucking back for a second, it needed to…

  “Why are you at the bus stop?” he asks but before I could answer, it clicked and he got pissy. “You can’t drive at all can you? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have—”

  “Stop,” I beg him. “I can’t handle your pity right now okay? I don’t need you to do anything more than what you’ve already done. I’ve got my folder, I’ve got a plan. I’m fine; go do what doctors do. I’ll see you in two weeks.”