“Shh,” Mom hushed. “I know, sweetie. But Dr. Gus said your vision should come back.”
“When?” I groaned. “I hear that guy talk, but I barely understand half of it. I need the guy to dumb it down for me because I didn’t graduate from some ritzy medical school.”
“I didn’t either, Grant. We just have to listen and ask questions when we don’t know what he is talking about,” Mom sighed. “His demeanor wasn’t doom and gloom when he talked. Hopefully, that he means he thinks it wasn’t cancerous.”
“We need a fucking translator,” Dad growled. “The guy obviously knows what the hell he is doing, but fuck if I know what the hell he is saying.”
“Meg and King had nothing but great things to say about Dr. Gus,” Mom sighed.
“I’m calling King,” Dad growled.
“No,” Mom scolded. “You are not going to call King. We can figure this out on our own. We like Dr. Gus, it’s just that he’s too smart.”
“We need Birdie. She didn’t make me feel like an idiot when she talked to me.” I was thankful for Dr. Gus doing the surgery, but I needed someone to tell me in laymen's terms what the hell was going on.
“Birdie isn’t your doctor, Grant,” Mom reminded me.
“I know that. I want her here when Dr. Gus is here to translate what he is saying.”
Mom and Dad were silent, and I couldn’t tell what the hell they were doing.
“Hello?” I called.
“We’re still here,” Mom laughed.
“Well, can you make some damn noise or something? I’m in the fucking dark here.” I couldn’t even make out where they were in the room, let alone what their faces were saying.
Mom sighed loudly. “Let me call Greta and see if she has Birdie’s phone number. I don’t want to bother her, bu—”
“Bother her,” I growled. I needed someone here who could tell me what was going on. I was going out of my mind not knowing if I had cancer, and now, I had to deal with a doctor who was so fucking smart that I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.
“Jesus, Grant,” Mom sighed. “I know you are frustrated, but you need to calm down, honey.”
Dad grunted, and there was silence again.
“What are you doing?” I hated being in the dark. I never realized what a privilege it was to be able to see. You could bet your ass that once my vision came back, I would never take it for granted again.
“I’m texting Greta. She’s at work right now,” Mom called.
“You need to figure out what you want for lunch,” Dad grunted. “You can decide while your mom gets in touch with Birdie.”
Dad read the menu off to me, and I decided to just get a turkey sandwich and chips. I figured they couldn’t mess that up. Meg had been feeding me for the most part, but I had a few things from the cafeteria that were not great.
Meg said she would be up with dinner later, but I was on my own for lunch.
“Are you sure you want me to call Birdie?” Mom asked.
“You have her number?” I asked.
“Greta just sent it to me. She wanted to know why I wanted it, but I told her to just give it to me.”
Greta would have to stick her nose in. “Call Birdie and let me talk.” I would have called her myself, but again, I was blind. I didn’t even know where the hell my phone even was.
Fucking. Blind.
“Okay, it’s ringing, and now, it’s on speaker.”
The phone rang loudly, and I waited for Birdie to answer.
