Ikey hooked his thumb under the edge of the bandages over his eyes. His fingertips rested against his forehead. The damp heat of his palm soaked into the cloth.
He took a deep breath.
His eyes wobbled with itchiness.
Ikey pushed at the bandage with the crook of his thumb. It slid up, tugging at his matted hair as the bandage rose and became a crown. He plucked at the cotton swabbing that filled his eye sockets. It dropped away.
He willed his eyes to open.
Nothing happened. His eyelids pulled against something. The edges of panic rifled through him. He touched his eyelids. His fingertips found a damp salve and clumps of crustiness along his eyelid. His eyelashes were matted and filled with junk. He held his fingertips to the bottom eyelid and tried to pry it open, but nothing.
His fingers flitted over to his left eye. A simple snarl of scar tissue sat where his eyebrow should have been. A divot in a rift of flesh marked where his eyelids should part.
Ikey shimmied out of bed and went to the water closet. There he dampened a rag and dabbed and rubbed at his right eye until the crustiness washed away. He stood upright and willed his eye to open. It parted. Flashes of light, streaks of white—a kind of noise peppered through his eyelids, but he couldn’t make anything out.
His heart raced even as he reminded himself it was dark. Pitch black in the water closet. Ikey closed his eye and returned to the bedroom. Once inside, he shut the door and opened his right eye.
A blurry syrup of light fell through the window.
Ikey sank to the bottom of the door, crumpling up behind his knees. He blinked at the light and waited for it to resolve itself into something solid, but it remained a blurry patch of yellow-orange light at the end of the room. Beneath it lurked a matted gray surface that barely rose out of the dark and left him to assume it was the bed.
Once he caught his breath, Ikey approached the light. He climbed onto the bed and shuffled forward on his knees until his face pressed into the part of the curtains. A breeze caressed his face. His forehead, his eyes, and the length of his nose tingled with the sensation. He blinked, and nothing more settled into his eyes beyond a shade of dark brown bunched up under a pale pile of blue.
Ikey sank back onto his heels. He tugged the blinds closed. He slipped his hand through the curtains and yanked the window down. He pinched the bandage between his thumb and index finger and tugged at it until it rested over the ruins of his face again, and then he reached down and patted around himself until he found the wads of gauze. He stuffed them up under the bandage, back into the useless sockets of his eyes.
It didn’t feel right. His hair felt ruffled. The bandage sat in his eyes funny, and the whole thing felt ready to slip past his nose and drape itself around his neck like a cowl.
Ikey sank back onto the bed.
The doctor had warned him not to peek. But it had been so close. So close. Maybe his eyes would heal further before the doctor removed the bandages for good. He wouldn’t peek again. And if there had been anyone to promise to, he would have promised not to peek, not to disobey orders again. He’d promise to be nice to Rose and once he took care of his dad he would…
But no one was there to pay the least mind to his oath. Ikey lay on the bed and listened to his heartbeat in his ears; its same, dull story told and retold like a joke his heart thought he would get if he just heard the punchline enough times.
Chapter Three
On Hailie’s first visit, Cross met her at the door as Ikey waited in one of the high-backed chair in the front parlor.
“Here’s your favorite patient,” Cross said.
“How are you, Ikey?” Hailie asked.
“Fine, I guess. And yourself?”
“Never better. I’m here to change your bandages.”
The floor creaked.
“Well,” Cross said, “I’ll be out in the workshop if anyone needs me. And if anyone needs me, things will be so bad off at that point that there’d hardly be any reason to bother me. Carry on.”
The lantern clicked as Cross put it on the sidetable between the two chairs. He stomped across the room, and the music boxes sang out hails and praise for their creator as he went.
“How are you?” Hailie asked.
“Still fine,” Ikey said.
“Oh, did I already ask you that? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“It’s a beautiful day outside. Mind if I draw back the curtains?” Haile took a step toward the windows.
“No, don’t touch the curtains.”
Hailie stopped. Her booted feet shuffled. The floor creaked and the music boxes whispered as she turned around. “Don’t touch the curtains?”
“They stay closed. All the time.”
A second passed before Hailie asked why that was.
“Rose doesn’t like them open. That’s all.”
“And who is Rose?”
“Cross’s wife.”
Ikey imagined her glancing about the room for a sign of this Rose. If she only knew how Rose could look like nothing more than a long shadow cast along a dark wall until she raised a hand and it was nothing like anyone had ever seen.
“What happens if you open the curtains?” Hailie asked.
“We just don’t.”
“Does she not allow it?”
“We just don’t.”
Hailie’s voice rose in pitch, planted a steel rod behind itself. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough. It’s not healthy to sit in the dark. You need light. Fresh air.”
She tromped over to the window and the music boxes chattered in excitement with each snap of her boot heels. The curtains whispered and the window groaned as Hailie pushed it up. The sound of the street fell backwards into the room and splattered the scent of horse manure and coal smoke across everything.
“That’s much better,” Hailie said.
Ikey shook his head.
“Now,” she said as she dusted the palms of her hands together, “I want to get a good look at your progress. Would you please tilt your head up?” she asked as she crossed the room.
As she took his chin in her hand, Ikey struggled not to fall backwards. Her touch reduced him to gelatin. Its firmness was the grip of someone who cared enough to lay hands on him and lift his chin the better to see his wounds.
“Pray tell, what has happened to your bandage? You haven’t been peeking, have you?”
“No,” Ikey mumbled. His jaw pressed against the warmth of her hand, the vague scent of soap, and a more distant smell of sweat and flesh and life.
Hailie tsked. “That’s good, because it’s very, very important, most important that you do not peek until the doctor says you can. The flesh around your eyes still needs to heal, and if you don’t give it a proper chance, you could damage your eyes permanently. Do you wish to be blind forever?”
“No.”
“Then you must leave these bandages alone. You must keep your eyes shut. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Hailie snipped at the bandage and began to unravel it, passing it around and around Ikey’s head. The pressure coming off in layers tickled, as if he was an onion being peeled.
“Are you eating well enough?” Hailie asked.
“I am. The food here is good. Better than the hospital’s.”
“But is it nutritious? Are you getting enough meat? Butter? It’s important that you get the nutrients needed to heal. There’s so little of you to begin with.”
Ikey slumped in the chair. How could there be so little of him when so much of him ached in great pain?
“You can be honest with me,” Hailie added in a lowered voice.
“I’m doing well here.”
“Sitting in the dark? Shut away like some… like some… coat put away for the summer?”
“It’s how things are here.”
“That’s not how things should be for someone who is healing. When was the last time you went outside?”
“Last n
ight.”
“Have you done any ablutions?”
“I help clean the house.”
The tsk of Hailie’s jaw dropping echoed through the room. “A man in your condition? Made to work like a common maid! You need rest, not work. This is most unusual. You are in no condition to work. No wonder you’re teasing at your bandages. You can’t be expected to work in your condition. You’re effectively blind. What happens if you don’t work? What does this Rose do to you?”
“I want to work. I want to help out. It makes me feel useful.”
The last of the bandage tickled his cheek as it fell away.
“Right now, the greatest use for you is to focus on healing. I think I might like to meet this Rose and have a word with her.”
Ikey wished to roll his eyes back in his head, but he was afraid they’d get stuck.
“I don’t think that’ll be possible,” Ikey said.
“Why not?” Hailie asked as she plucked the wadded gauze from Ikey’s eyes. “Remember, keep your eyes shut tight.”
Heat pressed against his face as Hailie held the lantern close and moved it from side to side.
“Rose doesn’t take callers. She’s a very private person.”
“I think I might like to leave my calling card.”
“If you wish.”
The heat pushed off his face. She replaced the lantern on the sidetable.
“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Hailie said as she leaned in close to Ikey, “this Rose sounds like a tyrant. Keeping you locked up in the dark, making you work, and not seeing those who call on her.”
“She’s been very kind to me.”
The leather of Hailie’s bag creaked. A bottle gurgled. Ikey started as Hailie dabbed at his eyes with a cold, wet cloth.
“I’m sorry. I need to wipe some of this away. It’s not looking bad. The redness is mostly gone. I think Dr. Gretten will be ready to discharge you from his care soon.”
“Good,” Ikey said, careful not to nod.
“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do once released from his care?”
“I have.”
“That’s good to hear. What is it you plan to do?”
Ikey drew a deep breath through his nose. “I want to go to Kerryford. I want to go down there and find someone who can implant some wires and hooks into my chest so that I can have a mechanical augmentation.”
The wiping of Ikey’s eyes stopped.
“I’ve seen something like that,” Hailie said. “A man came into the infirmary once with a setup like such in his hip and pelvis. It was supposed to allow him to operate a mechanical leg. Infection set in. The poor soul died. It was a very painful death.”
Ikey remained still as Hailie’s bottle gurgled again.
“The human body was not meant to be used in such a way.” Hailie dabbed a fresh, cool cloth at his left eye. The sensation felt strange, like a sheet of canvas rested between his eye and the damp cloth.
“I don’t think the human body was meant to be used this way. Burnt and battered. Torn to shreds. I have got to get my way back to what I was, what I want to be.”
“There is value in a person beyond his ability to… Beyond his physical abilities. Your mind is still sharp. I’ve seen you adapt to your situation rather quickly. You are obviously a clever man. Your intelligence could be applied to some industry, something that doesn’t require keen eyesight and the use of both arms.”
“Why?”
“Why would you risk it? It’s a miracle you survived the accident. Do you really want to risk the complications that go with such augmentation?”
“Yes,” Ikey said without a moment’s hesitation.
“But why?”
“I don’t want to live like this.”
“You don’t have to live like this. I have friends who run a shelter for those in your situation—”
“Stop it.”
“You don’t have to live with Mr. and Mrs. Cross.”
“Stop it!” Ikey turned his face away.
Hailie sighed. “Please be still.” She took his jaw in her hand. “I’m simply concerned.” She dabbed an ointment to Ikey’s eyes. His flesh tingled and his nose filled with a sharp, minty scent. “You have to admit that this situation is, at best, a bit unusual.”
“I’m a bit unusual.”
“How so?”
“I just am. I don’t fit in. I’m not like other people.”
Hailie pressed wads of gauze to Ikey’s eyes. “Hold this a moment, please. Gently. How are you not like other people?”
“For starters, I have one arm.”
“That doesn’t make you different. It makes you… Well, you’re not a different person. You still feel and think and love and laugh like a normal person, a wholesome young man. I think you’d do quite well on your own. And if you’d like to explore such a possibility, my friends would be willing to help you out. They run a house—”
“Oh no,” Ikey said. “No workhouses for me. I don’t need that. I’ll be much better off here.”
“It’s not a workhouse,” Hailie said as she wrapped a bandage around Ikey’s head. “You would be expected to help out some according to your abilities, of course, as recompense for your room and board, but it’s nothing like the union workhouses. You would be cared for and nurtured and looked after as one of God’s children, and not as some shameful inmate, a disgraced pauper. We don’t do that anymore. This is a home for those who need grace and care.”
Despite himself, Ikey shook his head.
Hailie let out an exasperated breath, spooled the bandage back some, and began again. “Please keep your head still.”
“I don’t need to go anywhere. Except Kerryford.”
“If you wanted to call on my friends, they’d help you get a regular prosthetic. I’ve seen some that attach to the body with straps. They provide some functionality, enough to help you through your day-to-day activities.”
“I’m not interested.”
Scissors grated the air near Ikey’s ear. “That will suffice, I dare say, until the day after tomorrow.” Hailie placed a hand on Ikey’s shoulder. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to talk to this Rose about leaving the curtains back and the windows open. I’m sure once I explained to her the importance of fresh air and sunlight on a recovering body, she’d understand.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ikey said. “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, right?”
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Hailie asked. “To see again?”
Ikey remained motionless, unsure of what she meant or how to respond.
“Be sure to keep your hands away from the bandages, good sir, or else you will wreck your eyes before they have had a proper chance to heal. Understand?”
“I do,” Ikey said. He took a breath. “Thank you.”
“I will see myself out. No need to bother Mr. Cross.”
Ikey gripped the arm of the chair, ready to push himself up and show the nurse out, demonstrate that he didn’t need eyes to know a floor was beneath his feet.
The leather of Hailie’s bag creaked as she picked it up. She bid Ikey goodbye. As she approached the front door, the music boxes chimed and tinkled with each step, and the noise whirled and clashed with the sounds of horse hooves and chugging engines and children calling out, laughing, screaming, a man somewhere giving a hearty chortle to something beyond ridiculous.
As the door snicked shut behind her, Ikey pushed himself to standing and strolled over to the open window, guided by the noises and smells. He slammed the window down with a hope that Hailie heard it as she walked away. He gripped a fistful of the curtain and drew it closed, then repeated the action with the other curtain. The noises of the street were reduced to a muffled murmur drifting through the air like dust motes.
“She was quite rude,” Rose said from the kitchen doorway.
“She means well,” Ikey said to the curtains. He turned around.
Rose walked away. The music boxes commented on this.
They whispered to themselves between each footfall. Each of them wondered out loud what it meant, what Rose implied by her departure. Footsteps climbed the stairs, rounded the stairwell, and climbed again to the third floor.
Ikey decided to head out to the workshop and sit at the table, tucked away from Rose.
The days in Cross’s house fell into a march step like the ones in the hospital. Instead of marking the passing of days with levels of activity, with the sounds of the doctors’ and nurses’ voices as they cycled through shifts, Ikey instead measured the passing of days by routine. Unlike his first stay with Cross and Rose, Rose demanded chores of him now that he wasn’t working for Cross. He helped with meals, with cleaning. He paid attention as she explained how to sweep a floor, how to hold the handle against his neck and shoulder as he drew the broom toward him. How to sweep in circles to make sure he got all the dirt. How to dust, to wash dishes, to manage a clean home. In case you never regain your sight, was a phrase Rose never spoke, but Ikey always heard it whenever she explained something to him.
Ikey went along with her instructions, though he wanted to insist that his vision would return and the lessons were needless, pointless, useless. But he thought of his eagerness to learn how to knit in the dark back when he had two arms so that he could know Rose better. Now he was finding out what it was to be Rose.
Each evening, Ikey followed Cross out to the workshop and developed a taste for scotch as Cross puttered around and did what he could to make the younger man feel useful, which only highlighted how much Ikey was in the way.
Tin Fingers: Book 2 in the Arachnodactyl Series Page 4