"Yeah, I've read all that stuff but it really doesn't tell me anything. It just makes everything seem more uncertain. I could lose my sight next week or next year or in twenty years. How is that helpful?"
"I guess it's not," he says, sounding defeated. He was trying really hard to make me feel better, but when it comes to this topic, that just isn't possible. It is what it is and it sucks and I just have to accept that.
"Are there any tests the doctors can do to at least estimate when you might lose your vision? Or if you'll lose it at all?"
"No. It's a genetic condition so really the only way I'd know what might happen is if I knew what happened to my birth parents."
"You don't know anything about them?"
"No, other than the fact that they had this eye problem."
"What if you tracked them down?"
"I told you, I don't want to find them. I love my parents and they're the only parents I want."
"But if you found your birth parents, it might help you figure out what's going to happen to your eyes as you get older. Wouldn't you want to know that?"
"Not if means hurting the parents who raised me."
"Have you ever talked to them about it?"
I sigh. "I don't want to find my birth parents, okay? Just drop it."
He nods, but I can tell he's disappointed with my answer. He thinks I should find my parents, and there have been many times the past year that I've thought the same thing. But as I said, I don't want to risk hurting the parents who raised me.
The other reason I don't want to find my birth parents is that I'm afraid of what I'll find out. What if they're blind? What if they went blind when they were young? That would mean there's a good chance the same thing will happen to me.
I don't think I want to know that. As bad as the uncertainty is, always wondering when and if I'll go blind, I think I'd rather continue along the path of the unknown.
Or maybe not. I really don't know which is worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monday morning, Wes and I show up to class wearing our tinted glasses. Just walking into the room I already notice a huge difference. I no longer have to squint and there's no harsh glare.
A few people glance at us as we walk in and some guy says to Wes, "What's with the glasses, dude?", which he pretends not to hear, but other than that, the glasses don't draw the attention I thought they would.
Mr. Henderson notices them and comes up to Wes and me as we sit down at our table.
"Can I speak with you privately for a moment?" he asks me.
I follow him to the small room where the supplies are kept for our chem experiments.
"What is it?" I ask, although I know it's about the glasses.
"Do they help?" he asks.
"Yeah. They cut down on the brightness."
"I could tell you were having problems. I was going to ask you about it but I know you don't like talking about it."
"The glasses help a lot. As for Wes, he's wearing glasses so that people don't pick on me for wearing them. I know it's probably not allowed to wear sunglasses inside but could you please just let him wear them until people get used to seeing me in them?"
"You told Wes about your eyes?" Mr. Henderson asks, sounding surprised.
"Yeah. We're kind of dating." I look away, embarrassed to be talking about this with Mr. Henderson.
"Good for you," he says. "Wes is a very nice young man. And mature. You made a good choice."
"Thanks." I look back at him. "So it's okay if he wears the glasses?"
"It's fine. I'll let the other teachers know."
"Thanks!" I start to leave.
"Oh, and Luna?"
"Yeah?" I turn back.
"Excellent job on your last exam. You had the highest grade in the class. I don't know if you've decided what you want to study in college yet but you might want to consider a career in science."
"I'm um...I'm not planning to go to college."
His brows rise. "Why wouldn't you? You're an excellent student."
I shrug. "It's just not for me."
"And your parents are okay with this?"
"No, but they can't force me to go."
"Luna." He walks up to me. "I think you should reconsider this. You're an extremely bright young woman. You have a bright future. Why would you not want to continue your education after high school?"
"I have to go," I say, hurrying back to my seat.
I could probably get in trouble for walking off when he's talking to me but it's not like it was about class. It was about my future, and he's not in charge of my future and shouldn't even be talking to me about it. I'm his student, not his kid. I like Mr. Henderson and I know he cares about his students but he needs to stay out of this. Whether I go to college or not is my decision, not his.
"You okay?" Wes asks as I sit down.
"Yeah." I search for a pen in my backpack. I don't need one, but trying to find one gives me something to do to distract myself from the anger I'm feeling toward Mr. Henderson. The look he gave me when I told I'm not going to college? It was a look of shock. Disappointment. The same look my parents give me when the topic of college comes up. I hate that look. I know people expect me to go to college and I always thought I would until my diagnosis. Now going to college seems pointless and a waste of time. Why am I the only one who gets that?
"Did he talk to you about the glasses?" Wes asks as Mr. Henderson walks to the front of the room to hand out instructions for today's lab.
"Yeah. He said you could wear them and he'd tell the other teachers."
He smiles at me. "You look really hot in yours."
"You look good too. Can you see okay wearing them inside?"
"Yeah. The lenses are only slightly tinted so I really don't notice that much of a difference. How about you?"
"It's great. I can actually open my eyes without having the light hurt them. And the glare is gone." I glance around the room. "I'm surprised people aren't starting at us."
"I think they're used to me challenging the rules of what's considered acceptable to wear. After the tie and briefcase and the geeky t-shirts I wore the first week of class, the sunglasses are nothing. They probably thought they were my idea and I talked you into wearing some too."
His theory seems to hold true because later, in the hallway, people comment on the glasses but only to Wes, not me. And because he's Wes and people like him, the comments are all positive.
The glasses are definitely what I needed. I go the entire day without squinting and never get a headache.
"Thanks again for getting these," I tell Wes as we're driving home. "They really helped."
"See what happens when you tell me the truth? I can actually be helpful."
"It wasn't easy for me to tell you that."
"I know. But now that you have, you don't have to hide anything from me. If your eyes are bothering you or you need help when we're out at night and it's dark, just tell me."
I nod, once again wishing we could get off this topic. It's good he knows the truth but I still don't want to talk about it.
"So what happened today at chem?" he asks.
"What do you mean?"
"With Mr. Henderson. What did he say to you?"
"He just wanted me to explain about the glasses."
"Remember what I just said about hiding stuff from me?"
"I'm not hiding anything," I say. "We talked about the glasses and then I went back to my seat."
"He said more than that. You were pissed when you came back to the table."
I sigh. "Because he asked me about college, which is one of my least favorite things to talk about, especially with my teacher. It's none of his business if I go to college or not. I'm sure half our class won't go to college, probably more, and yet he decides to yell at me for not going?" I fold my arms over my chest. "I used to like him but now I don't."
"First of all, he didn't yell at you. If he had, I would've heard him."
"Not yell as
in raise his voice. When I said 'yelled' I meant nagged, criticized, judged. He made me feel like a loser just because I'm not doing what he wants." I huff. "Why are you defending him?"
"Because I know he only said it because he sees so much potential in you. He knows you'd do great in college and go on to do great things."
"Yeah, well, he doesn't know what it's like to live every day wondering if that's the day your vision will go away. And he doesn't know what it'll be like and how much time it'll take to adjust to living without being able to see." I shake my head. "He really should mind his own business."
Wes keeps quiet, giving me time to calm down, then I hear him say, "You want to come over?"
"To your house?"
"Yeah. I can show you the graphics for the game I'm working on. Karrie sent them to me this morning."
Karrie. I don't even know her and yet just hearing her name annoys me. Wes keeps telling me she's a great artist, and given the work she did on Monkey Mummy I'd have to agree, so I guess it's good she's working for him. But as his girlfriend, it still bothers me that he's talking to his ex, a girl he had a long-term relationship with and had sex with.
We get to his house and go to the kitchen.
"Grab a drink or a snack. Whatever you want," Wes says. "I'll go get my laptop."
He has separate computers for work and school. He has a home office and it's filled with computer equipment.
When he returns, I've set out a can of pop for each of us and a bowl of chips.
"Thanks," he says, giving me a kiss before popping open his can.
I wait for him to sit down, then say, "Is this the game with the ferrets?"
He has so many different games in development, I can't keep track of them all. I don't know how he does all this while also going to school and making time for me.
"Yeah, it's the one where you help the ferrets get through the castle, which is basically a maze. They have to get past all these mythical creatures but you can earn gold coins to help them attack the creatures."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is, but it's really fun when you play it."
I'm amazed he's able to come up with this stuff. Being a computer genius, I would've thought he wouldn't be good on the creative side, but it turns out he's really talented that way. When he talks about the game, it's like he's envisioned the whole thing before he even begins developing it, even down to the tiniest details, like what the ferrets should be wearing.
"That's hilarious," I say, laughing as I check out Karrie's drawings. The ferret is rounder and chubbier than a real-life ferret and he's wearing plaid pants and a bow-tie and has a top hat on that looks like it's about to fall off.
"Why is he dressed like that?" I ask.
"Because he works at the castle. He has to look sharp. His job is to keep the mythical creatures from getting to the king. They keep sneaking through these hidden tunnels in the castle and he has to stop them. One of his character flaws is that he's obsessed with his hat. He's always trying to keep it from falling off his head. You lose points if it falls. It's part of the game. But keeping it on him can slow you down."
"Wow. You've really put a lot of thought into this."
"I like my games to be fun but also a challenge and I like them to tell a story. That way you feel like you're actually in the game. You're more invested in it and want to play it more or tell your friends about it." He slides his laptop aside. "It needs a lot of work but I like how it's coming along."
I point to the laptop. "Don't you want to show me more? I didn't get to see all the creatures."
"You can look at them later when the game's farther along."
That's weird. He asked me over here to check out his game but then he barely showed me any of it. Did he invite me here for something else? Like to make out? His dad isn't home so we're all alone. I hope he isn't thinking of doing something I'm not ready for. He said he'd never push me to do anything but maybe he changed his mind. Maybe all this interaction with his ex has made him think he wants that type of relationship again. A more adult relationship. If so, I'm not ready for that.
"I wanted to ask you something," he says, turning his chair so that he's facing me.
"What is it?"
Please don't ask me to have sex, I plead in my head.
"I don't want you getting mad at me for asking. I know you said you didn't want to and I know just talking about it makes you uncomfortable but I still feel the need to bring this up."
He's totally going to ask me to have sex. He's going to tell me how he has needs and how he's used to getting those needs met with his ex-girlfriend and how he wants me to at least consider the idea. But it's not happening. If I'm not ready, I'm not ready, and I'm definitely not ready.
I take a breath to calm myself because even hinting at this topic is making me nervous. "Wes, I really like you but I'm just not ready to go there. It's too soon."
"What does this have to do with you liking me?"
I pause, trying to figure out how to respond to that. "Um, well, I'd obviously have to like you to do this, which I do but...I'm just not ready. I'm not even close to being ready."
He cocks his head, like he's confused. "I'm still not getting how this has anything to do with me. I mean, yeah, I want you to do it but ultimately it's up to you."
"And I told you, I'm not ready."
"Do you think you ever will be?"
What kind of question is that? Is he thinking I'd never want to have sex at all or just with him? Why are we having this talk? It's too soon. We haven't dated that long.
"Obviously I'll be ready someday," I say. "Just not anytime soon."
"So you're open to the idea? Because I kind of got the feeling you never wanted to do it."
I scrunch up my face. "Why would you think that? I know we've been taking things slow but that doesn't mean I'd never do it. It just has to be the right time, and now is definitely not the right time."
He's quiet and then he laughs. Like really laughs, tipping his head back like he just heard a really funny joke.
"Why are you laughing?" I ask, not finding this the least bit funny,
"I don't think we're talking about the same thing."
"What do you mean? What were you talking about?"
He composes himself and clears his throat. "You first."
"You're the one who started this whole thing. You tell me what you were talking about."
"Okay, but before I do, did you think I was talking about sex just now?"
"Yeah. Why? You weren't?"
"No." He starts to laugh, then stops himself. "Sorry. I should've been more clear. I thought we were on the same page but we weren't even close." He leans over to me and looks in my eyes. "To be perfectly clear about what you thought I was talking about...I would never even bring that topic up for discussion unless I knew you were ready to talk about it. And I would never pressure you—ever—or make you feel guilty for not doing it. I have no expectations when it comes to that. Yes, I've done it before but that doesn't mean I expect it from you."
Well, that was embarrassing. A major misunderstanding. But if he wasn't talking about sex, then what was he talking about?
"Tell me what you really meant," I say. "What were you trying to ask me?"
He moves his chair closer and slides his hand over to mine on the table. "I was asking if you'd reconsider trying to find your birth parents."
I rear back, getting some distance from him. "Why would you ask me that? I already told you I'm not doing that."
"I know you don't want to, but I was thinking about it and if you found your parents, you'd be better able to predict what's going to happen."
Ripping my hand from his, I say, "I know what's going to happen. I'm going to be blind someday. End of story."
"But maybe that's not true. What if your parents weren't blind? What if they still had some of their vision? And what if their vision didn't get bad until they were a lot older than you?"
"They gave me up
because they couldn't see. They didn't think they could take care of me."
"You don't know that. You're just guessing."
"I'm not guessing!" I yell, bolting up from my chair. "That's why they did it! It was because they're blind. Not because—" I stop and walk to the windows that face the back yard. "It doesn't matter. The answer is no. I'm not going to find them."
The room is quiet until l hear Wes' chair scooting back. Moments later, I feel him behind me, his arms going around me.
"You don't want to know," he says softly.
I shake my head, tears threatening to fall.
"You're afraid of what you'll find out," he says, holding me tighter. "Not just about their eyes, but about why they gave you up."
It's true but it's a secret nobody's supposed to know. I haven't even told my parents that.
"They wanted you," Wes says, keeping hold of me. "They just couldn't take care of you. Maybe it was because of their vision or because they were too young or didn't have enough money. Whatever the reason was, it wasn't because they didn't love you."
Tears are now falling and I'm angry. Why is he doing this to me? Why is he bringing up all this hurt and pain? Haven't I already had enough hurt and pain with all the years of teasing and my vision problems and finding out I might go blind?
"Take me home," I say through gritted teeth.
"Luna, I know you don't want to do this and I know you're scared, but please, just think about it. Wouldn't you feel better at least knowing when it might happen? Or knowing if it'll happen at all?
I push as hard as I can to get away from him and finally break free. I face him, tears now running down my cheeks. "I said take me home. Now!"
"Luna!" he calls out as I race to the front of the house. I go out the door and start running, sprinting past his car. I hear him again. "Luna!"
His house is miles away from mine so there's no way I could run all the way home but I can't make myself stop.
I want to run away from it all. My vision problems. My uncertain future. The fact that my birth parents gave me up. And most of all...I want to run from the stupid boy who keeps bringing up all these things I'm trying so hard not to think about.
Why can't he just be a normal boyfriend and pretend all this stuff isn't happening? Why can't he just tell me it's all too much for him and break up with me like I thought he would?
The Geek and The Goddess Page 21