I smile, loving that he can read my thoughts even when we’re not together.
Me: Your ego is fine.
Maverick: My ego ALWAYS needs stroking.
Me: Don’t I stroke you enough?
Maverick: You sure fucking do.
Me: But fine, if you really must know, picnic #1 will always be #1…but picnics #2-4 had Sammy. And the only thing better than one Benson is two Bensons.
There’s a pause in messages.
I used to be able to see bouncy dots on a screen appear, then disappear, especially whenever I texted Verity. She’s fanatical about grammar and tweaks her texts a million times before hitting Send.
A wave of sadness hits me.
How can something as silly as bouncy dots on a cell phone screen get to me like this? I guess it’s because it’s making it all the more real. My vision loss is accelerating, and if it keeps going at this rate, it’ll be totally gone within a matter of weeks.
The doctor wasn’t able to give me an extra timeframe, but she did tell me to prepare for this. There’s no one way it happens for everyone—and since I have optic neuritis in addition to retinitis pigmentosa, that only complicates things even more—but generally, it’s a progressive thing. You don’t lose all vision at once; it occurs in stages, usually over a few months.
At the start of the summer, I had headaches with minor blurred central vision and mild color vision distortion. Now, the headaches are no more, but my central vision is almost completely gone, and finer details appear murky.
I know I’m lucky to have people who love and support me in my life, but I’m scared.
So fucking scared.
And there’s nothing I can do about it but wait for my sight to continue deteriorating, my line of sight getting smaller and smaller until one day, there’s nothing but black. Forever.
My phone buzzes again.
Maverick: I officially forgive you. And also, that is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.
I wince.
Fuck. What am I doing?
This thing with Maverick is getting out of hand, and I’m only adding fuel to the fire. Bringing him coffee every morning. Joining him and Sammy on picnics at the sanctuary. Inspecting his shower tiles daily as he fucks me mercilessly against them.
None of this is diffusing the situation between us. And that’s exactly what I should be doing. It was fun while it lasted, but it has to end.
Maverick: I take it you’re off to Clancy’s for lunch now?
I take a deep, fortifying breath. I may be completely in over my head with Maverick, and my vision is slipping away from me, but I have to stay in control of my emotions. It’s the one thing, theonlything, I can control in my life right now.
So I muster up a perfectly normal, lighthearted response.
Me: You spying on me again?
Maverick: Always. But not this time. It’s almost lunchtime. I know your routine.
Me: Still creepy.
Maverick: Still not sorry.
Me: Still a rich asshole then?
Maverick: Still richist then?
