Chapter 6: Blind Club
I never knew what “blind” was until after my grandmother died. She didn’t tell me there was anything wrong with me so I just assumed everyone felt the world through sounds and touch and didn’t even know there was a 3rd dimension of sight.
Everyone else is in 3d, but I’m stuck back in 2d. Flat. Two-dimensional. Like a drawing on a paper, not a sculpture. I was never fully blind when I lived with my grandmother; she gave me the dimension of love.
‘Mom’ told me I wasn’t getting along with the ‘normal’ kids enough, and maybe I should meet kids ‘who were like me’. My little sister Daria who had down’s syndrome went to meetings like this, learning to speak and read with challenged children like her. I never really noticed what was wrong with her; she was about 10 times happier than me.
We drove 45 minutes to get to the Colorado Center for the Blind, or CCB. I heard the barking of dogs when we entered the building and figured they were seeing-eye dogs. Derek was allergic to dogs so we were never able to apply to get one.
The seats there were cushy, and by the noise I figured there were about 20 other kids in the group, all teenagers. I heard a young female voice next to me.
“I’m Ava,” it said.
“Oh, hey,” I tried to sound casual.
“When did you lose your sight?” she asked. Great way to start a conversation.
“I was born blind.”
“I lost it at age 3. From cancer. They had to amputate,” she said.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” I said. “Wait, do you remember anything? From when you saw?”
“Just blurry shapes, colors…. I only see them in my dreams,” she said. “What are your dreams like?”
“They’re only sounds and feelings. I never saw anything so I don’t see anything in my dreams,” I said. “What is it like to see?”
She shook her head. “Beyond explanation.”
We were interrupted by a man’s voice. He sounded like he was in his 30’s or early 40’s.
“Okay, guys! Settle down, settle down….” He waited to silence to return before speaking again in an upbeat, over-enthusiastic voice. “Welcome to The Visionary Club.”
“Nice name,” I muttered to Ava.
“They’re trying to inspire us. Just go with it.”
“The first thing we should do is share our ages, our stories, and how we’re coming to accept who we are. I’ll start on the left.”
I heard a voice that sounded a bit older than me. A shuffling of feet. Someone stood up. “I’m Toby, I’m 17, and I was born blind. I don’t have much of a story, I go to a school of blind people. Uh… I think I’ve always accepted who I was. Being blind is all I’ve ever really known.” The guy sat down again and the next person stood.
I loved listening to everyone’s stories. I felt like I belonged. The voices drifted around me into a calm sea.
“I was 8 when I got a disease in my corneas….”
“I accept who I am because I have found someone who isn’t blind but sees me as beautiful even though I can’t see him…”
“My parents were always accepting of me…”
“I am still in foster care, no one has ever wanted me…”
Then, it was my turn. The chair screeched a bit as I stood up.
“Hi, uh, my name is David, and I’m 14 years old. I was born blind, and my parents didn’t want me so my grandmother raised me. She had a heart attack when I was four years old and I got adopted by the Jeffersons. I’ve never really come to uh, accept my blindness.” I cleared my throat and sat down. Ava sat up and told her story about how it felt to have cancer at such a young age, how scared she was, and how people stared at her empty eye sockets before she got fake eyes. She was a much better speaker than I. When she sat down, I felt her edge a bit closer than before.
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“Hey, where were you yesterday?” James asked. “I wanted to hang out.”
We were walking to our first period class, boots dripping with melted snow. It was mid-December, and everyone was too excited for Christmas break to pay attention in class.
“I was at a club for blind people. I told you I’ve been going there on Thursdays.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “You met a girl there, right?”
I blushed. “She’s just a friend.”
“That’s what they all say,” he answered, laughing.
First period was health. After having the last few months of gym, we’re starting to do health. It was pretty horrible, but at least I got to participate.
We were learning sex ed, aka the most uncomfortable subjects known to humankind.
“You have a girlfriend now, you have to know,” chided James. I sighed at his immaturity and continued drawing invisible circles that overlapped each other on my paper.
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