See In Him

6

  The wait was quick. That day, the optometrist was able to start their appointment sooner. She led Kennith, while he followed her tapping heels, to a room in the back that held her more advanced machines. On days like those, he was glad to be able to skip annoying little blasts of air against his eyes or blinding photos of his inner eye. With his condition, he had appointments more often, but only to check up on things that they knew could change rapidly in his vision.

  "So, do you have anything you want to say first? You know how this goes." She was straight to the point. Her voice was low and short. It was kind, though, too. "The nystagmus is still a lot better," he replied, collapsing his cane and setting it between his thighs. He'd had shaking eyes since he was a baby, but as he got older, he found it had lessened over the years. It had improved his ability to see clearer significantly. "That's good. Has it improved since our last visit or just over the last few years you've noticed?" Kennith could hear the click of a pen and her leather stool creaking. "Just over the years. It hasn't really changed much since our last appointment, though."

  "Okay. That's good. Is everything still kinda the same, then? No extra sensitivity to light or a decrease in sight that you've noticed? Are the dark spots still in the corners, too? They haven't changed or gotten bigger?"

  "No. Everything's the same."

  "Okay. Good." Pen scraped on paper. Kennith waited silently. He could hear the furnace running.

  Doctor Havelar examined his ocular motility by moving her finger and ordering him to follow it. The task was difficult, since his eyes didn't always stay in the same position like he wanted them to, but he managed it better than he had in the past. With another test, she determined that his depth perception was about the same as it was during their last visit. It wasn't the best, which meant one of his eyes was probably worse than the other, but only slightly. Next, he stared at the screen of blurred letters, the replacement for the standard eye chart. "That's as big as I can make it. I know it's a stretch, but can you read it? It's only one letter."

  Kennith, although he couldn't read, knew what the alphabet looked and felt like. Sometimes, he forgot what a 'Q' or 'K' looked like, but in that moment, he was sure that it was neither of those letters. "I can't tell. It's too far away."

  "That's okay. Can you read it on this?" What he assumed was the same letter was handed to him on a large printed card. It was clearer in his lap. "I think that's a 'C'."

  "It's a 'B'. Nice try, though."

  Kennith shrugged and allowed her to take it. The next part of the exam, the colour blind testing, was his favorite part. It was the easiest. A lot of times, Doctor Havelar even skipped it. "Colour still hasn't changed. I don't think I can see red or green very well."

  "What colour is my shirt?" Kennith glanced at her. Although her sweater was zipped open wide, the boy could only see a sliver of blurry yellowish-brown. "Brown?"

  "It's red." Her reply didn't bother Kennith. He expected to be wrong. "I sometimes ask my parents what colour something is, even if I know I'm seeing it right. It's nice to know that something still works." For over a year, Kennith was almost completely sure that their shampoo bottle, the same brand they always bought, was a bright yellow. When it came to his attention that he could be wrong, his father clarified that it was in fact red. It changed his entire fucking mood in the shower; he couldn't help but glare at the bottle with hatred. He felt betrayed by the shampoo. Havelar laughed. "Kennith, you have good vision compared to some of my patients. You haven't changed at all in the last few years. I'm impressed."

  "That's good," Kennith agreed. She praised him the same way during every appointment. In all honesty, he was overjoyed to hear it from a professional. "Who came with you today?" The boy made a disgusted noise. "We don't talk about that rat."

  "So I'm guessing it's not your parents," she mused. "Did they hire a new housemate or something?"

  "Yep. He's already ruined one of my favorite shirts."

  "You know what I'm going to say, Kennith."

  He sighed. "Then say it. Get it the hell over with."

  "He could help you." She said it like they both knew it was obvious. There was that sentence again. He didn't need help. He rolled his eyes. "Are we done yet? Are you happy?"

  "Ecstatic." Havelar knew how to match his sarcasm unlike anyone else.

  And there was the end of Kennith's rope. His sphyche could only take so much.

  "I'll call your parents later. Will your dad pick up his cell? I know your mother won't."

  "Yeah. He'll be out of the house tonight, but any excuse to get out of a meeting, I guess."

  "Sweet. I'll see you next time, Kennith. Have a good day."

  "Mhm," he mumbled, already feeling for the door handle. His cane found the doorframe first. Without a word or reply, he left the room and made a beeline for the big wall of windows. The far side of them held the door and that big blue blur. His glasses were fished out of his pocket. "Bye, Kennith," Janet called. "Mhm," he replied on his way out the door. Outside, the world was loud and grating, even more so with the voice that appeared beside him. "Hey. That was fast. No problems, then?" Jesse asked. If Kennith has good enough aim, he would have punched him for standing so close. "Back off. Just take me the fuck home."

  "Are you hungry? I got myself sushi. Bought you some, too. Didn't know if ya wanted any." Kennith hated sushi. "Up yours, Jesse. I told you to stop talking to me," he hissed. "Well, I can't just stop talking to you. I have a job to do, ya know."

  "Then fucking shut up and do it!"

  "Okay."

  The reply was so unnecessary. Why did he always have to be there, in front of Kennith, always bothering him and hanging over his head? Couldn't he do his job and shut the fuck up, too? Had he ever heard of fucking multitasking? "Just leave me alone!" Kennith snapped, finding himself turning away from the big black car and in the direction the sidewalk would take him. "Woah, where are you going? I thought you wanted to go home."

  "I want to get away from you!"

  "What is your problem with me?"

  "What is your problem with me?" When he got a reply, it only added fuel to Kennith's fire. It raged in his mind and chest, burning and destroying. The pain made him angry. Everything made him angry, especially if it involved a stranger like Jesse. He was already so overwhelmed by having to endure a half-hour exam and the argument that morning with his mother. He was tired, cranky, starving, and he hadn't taken any of his Prozac that day.

  "What?"

  "Why did you have to go and take the job? Can't you just find anoth—"

  "Kennith! Watch out!"