After stopping at a Dunkin' Donuts to get ourselves breakfast, James and I head over to see Dr. Jackson for my appointment. The last two weeks passed by so fast. Nevaeh left yesterday to go to Australia with her friends, leaving me to be in the house by myself again. The house seems so quiet now that my sister isn't here anymore. I'd gotten used to having her company around, especially when our parents were at work. It's really strange not having Nevaeh here. Aside from James, I don't have anyone to talk to so I'm feeling kind of alone, which didn't help me at all last night.
Throughout the entirety of these two weeks, I've been having the same nightmare play in my mind over and over and over again. It begins the same way and ends the same way.
I always wake up at precisely one thirty-five in the morning, each morning, and never being able to go back to bed. My mind would become too frenzied and alerted to sleep. It's taking quite a toll on my sleeping pattern and I really don't appreciate it. I'm pretty sure my body doesn't, either.
Another thing that's gotten me feeling weirded out—aside from my eyes being blue and my family not noticing anything about that—is I'm able to see everything clearly. I can see all the buildings, all the cars, people, trees. It strikes me as odd that I'm able to see things now when normally it takes at least half a year. A small part of me thinks maybe it's the way my eyes are taking the corneas, and maybe I'm fussing over nothing, which can be the case.
But I still can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. And honestly, it doesn't feel like it is. Nothing's right. Everything feels off.
I yawn loudly, shifting in the passenger seat as I stare out the windshield. Even though my eyes are fixated on the road, I see James looking over to me again, somehow managing to drive straight without veering off. This is the third time he's done that. I can tell what he's thinking; I look out of it.
"You look out of it," he blurts out, looking back at the highway.
Told you.
"I am, James. I'm so tired, it's not even funny," I reply. No joke.
This morning when I woke up to take a shower, I cringed at the sight of my face. Bags formed under my eyes and my skin looked pale. It scared the crap out of my parents when they saw me like this and understandably so. I even scared the crap out of myself.
"Well, drink some DD's coffee. It's bound to give you a jolt." I know James means this as a way of trying to cheer me up but it's not really working.
"Lack of caffeine has nothing to do with my grogginess."
"Oh?"
"I've been having one hell of a nightmare these two whole weeks and I haven't been able to sleep. Hence, the baggy eyes and pale skin."
"Care to tell me about it?"
I hesitate at first, only because of my parents' reaction when I told them. But knowing there's no one else to confide in, I go ahead and spill the beans, explaining to him the hallway I was walking through in my dream. The giddiness and desire of wanting to see a man I was in love with only to find out I'd been tricked, pretty much the same explanation I gave my parents.
"Sounds like one hell of a nightmare," James says.
"Tell me about it," I grumble, crossing my arms.
"But, rest assured, that's never gonna happen. Not on my watch, anyhow. That person will have to get through me before they can hurt you."
I can't help but smile a little. "Thanks."
He smiles back. "That's what friends are for."
I sit back against the seat, staring out absently at the cars driving by us. A red Toyota passes by, then a beige Ford pickup truck. A black SUV.
"Hey, can I tell you something?" I ask.
James shrugs. "Sure, anything."
"That dream I just told you about..."
"Yeah?"
"There's more to it, actually. Not really to the dream but things that have followed with it. Like, very strange things."
"Strange? How do you mean?"
"Aside from the nightmare, these weird flashes come up every time I awake. It appears to be a different bedroom each time for at least a minute. There are these DC Comics decorations everywhere, literally covering every inch of the room. There's this window that outlooks a parking lot. It seems the bedroom I'm in is situated in an apartment complex or something. And then, every night I wake up at one thirty-five in the morning. I can't go back to sleep after that. It's like I'm hit with a severe case of insomnia." I sigh, looking over at James.
"So...this happens a lot? You have dreams about seeing a room with superhero posters and a window that outlooks a parking lot?" he asks.
"Well, the DC Comics décor isn't a dream. I'm actually awake and it's a flash that I see," I correct.
"Interesting."
"None of the things I'm experiencing have anything to do with me or my life. These flashes and dreams aren't mine. Another thing I'm freaked out about are my eyes."
"Your eyes?"
"Yeah. For one thing, I'm able to see crystal clear when it hasn't even been six months yet. Secondly...well...James, it's the strangest thing. But when I looked into the mirror a couple weeks back, my eyes changed color."
"Really?" By the tone in his voice, he sounds intrigued.
"My parents didn't even notice it but I did. They're not green anymore, they're blue."
James turns to look at me the same time I look at him. The expression on his face is one of confusion.
"Ali, what are you talking about? Your eyes have always been blue," he points out.
I do a double-take. "What?"
"What color did you think they changed to?"
"Always been blue? James, my eyes are green. They've never been blue," I respond, feeling bewildered myself.
He shrugs. "All right, if that's what you think the color of your eyes are."
If that's what I think the color of my eyes are? I don't think, I know. We've been friends for ten years so he totally knows.
"You think maybe you're just having side effects or something? From after the surgery, I mean?" James asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts.
Really? We're going to start with the post-surgery symptoms crap again? My blood begins to boil.
"Why? You don't believe me?"
"No, no, it's not that I don't believe you. It's just...I dunno. It's impossible to experience memories and visions that aren't yours, for one thing. Where'd you even get those things from? The only option I can think of would be having nightmares. Also, speaking about your eyes, I don't know what made you think they're green," James counters.
"Oh, now you think I'm crazy?" My question comes across as accusatory.
"Ali, I didn't say that. All I said was it's impossible to have memories that don't belong to you, that's all. You're not crazy."
"Right."
Feeling miffed, I cross my arms and sit back against the seat without looking at James. I hear him sigh, probably knowing we've reached the end of our conversation.
Ten minutes later, he parks his car in the parking lot of the hospital building. I open the door and climb out.
"You need me to come inside?" James asks.
"No. I can see well enough, thanks," I reply somewhat snappishly, closing the door.
Dr. Jackson shines the little penlight into my eyes, blinding me.
"Everything seems just perfect. Your eyes are taking in the corneas quite nicely. The tearing has stopped, too, I see."
He turns the light off, setting it beside him as he sits back down in his chair. He takes his pen and starts writing on his clipboard.
"Yeah, it has," I reply, shifting in my chair. "Is that normal, though? For me to able to see clearly in two weeks like this?"
"Well, it's like how I explained to you prior. It differs with everyone. Apparently, your eyes aren't rejecting the new corneas. So it's perfectly normal."
"Okay." I don't believe it but don't bother saying anything else about it.
I fold my hands together, settling them on my lap. A wall clock Dr. Jackson has mounted above his desk ticks. It's not loud but it's audible enough to hear. I soon feel a little awkward by the quiet atmosphere.
I clear my throat. "So, um...whose eyes were these?" I ask casually.
"Pardon me?"
"Who was the donor? That gave me the corneas, I mean."
I'm really curious as to knowing who my donor is. Maybe I'll have an answer once I know who they are.
"That's confidential information, Alexis. I'm afraid I can't answer that for you."
"But they're the person who made me see again, I think I have a right to know."
"I understand but I'm not allowed to disclose vital information regarding the donor's life unless you're of immediate family."
I pause. "You won't tell me their name, at least?"
"I'd lose my job if I did. But these are your eyes now and they're working superbly. So it shouldn't matter where they came from," Dr. Jackson says with finality.
I give him a nod and keep my mouth shut.
I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps he's had a bad day or something. He sounded a bit edgy when I first walked in, although I could tell he was trying his best not to let it show.
"Do they hurt?" he asks.
"A little but not so much as the first time," I answer.
"You've been taking the eye drops? Once at morning, once at night?"
"Yes."
"Good. How are the glasses working for you?"
"Fine."
"Perfect."
Dr. Jackson briefly goes back to his clipboard, then looks up at me.
"Well, Alexis, so far, your corneas are doing excellent. I'm not seeing any issues with them. And you've been applying the drops to your eyes. Really, there's nothing else to go over," he says, smiling. "Your next visit isn't due until October. I'll do a check-up just like I did today. However, in the meantime, if you feel that something's wrong with your eyes, give me a call."
"I will."
Something is wrong. Not with my eyes but with my life.
He opens his office door and escorts me out.
"See you in October," he says, waving.
"Yeah, see you then." I feign a smile.
I exit the building and make my way over to the parking lot when I notice James had moved his car closer to the hospital. That was nice of him. I change direction, going toward the passenger door.
He looks up and sees me. His hand reaches for the lever and pushes the door open for me.
"Thanks," I tell him as I get in.
"You're welcome. How did it go?" he asks, putting his car on drive.
"Fine. I'm not due until October and Dr. Jackson said my eyes are working as they should."
"So you can see better now?"
I nod. "Yeah, I can see clearly."
"Awesome. Hey, do you mind if we stop at Walmart before I take you home? I need to pick some coolant."
"Coolant? For your Dad's car?"
"Yup."
"Still needs fixing, huh?"
James sighs. "Sorta. The major parts are taken care of. It's just his A/C unit. Been acting up, don't know why."
"Have you thought of taking it to a mechanic?"
"We could but my Pa's a very pigheaded man. He wants to try to save money and have me fix it instead."
"But if it's necessary to take it to a mechanic, then he should consider it."
"Try telling him that."
I kind of chuckle, then open my mouth to say something. But before I could speak, the world went white.