Times Like These

by Ana McKenzie

  Bianca nodded, looking a little overwhelmed, the oil stick in her hand. Merren headed for the door.

  ‘Wait!’

  She turned and looked at Bianca sitting on the floor, a slight, slim figure, the window lighting her from behind, her hair a dark, curling halo around her head.

  ‘What?’ Bianca looked beautiful. Merren wished for a moment that she was an artist, that she knew how to use the paints and other things in the boxes, so that she could capture the way Bianca looked right at that very moment.

  But she wasn’t, so she tucked the image away in her mind to keep instead.

  Bianca held up the stick in her hand. ‘What colour is this?’ she asked. ‘It looks blue?’

  Merren stepped forward, read the label. ‘French Blue,’ she confirmed.

  Bianca broke into a sudden, beaming smile. ‘The colour of your eyes,’ she said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bianca smiled, hearing Merren’s gasp of indrawn breath.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Merren asked, as though Bianca had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Bianca laughed, and it felt good.

  ‘So, it’s true then? They’re French Blue?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ Merren answered. ‘But they’re blue. I didn’t know you could see that sort of detail.’

  For a moment, Bianca’s happy mood threatened to pop like a balloon and deflate inside her. But she pushed her shoulders back and kept hold of it.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Your face is just a blur, unfortunately. A very pretty blur, but still.’ She smiled, flexed her fingers around the oil stick. ‘I have a young neighbour, however, who can see perfectly well.’

  Merren hovered by the door. ‘This is the kid who does your grocery shopping for you, right?’

  She had a good memory. Bianca nodded. ‘Rita. She told me you had blue eyes. French blue.’ Her smile turned sly, delighted. ‘She also told me that you are very cute and that going to bed with you would be good for me.’

  There was a pause, and Merren stood very still. ‘Well,’ she said, and Bianca could almost feel her gathering herself up. ‘I’d say she was right there.’

  Bianca laughed with the unexpectedness of Merren’s reply. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘That was a good answer.’

  Merren’s head moved and Bianca guessed she was nodding. ‘I’m good at assessing information,’ Merren said. ‘Coming up with the correct conclusions.’ She laughed, and the sound wrapped itself around Bianca and made her feel light, almost giddy.

  ‘Anyway. I’m going to go lug in everything you need from the studio. Is it unlocked?’

  Bianca’s face fell. ‘Shit,’ she said, and licked her lips. ‘Yes. It’s unlocked. And it’s a mess.’ She cringed at the memory of her panic attack the day before. Felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of it.

  ‘Hey, what is it?’ Gentle hands were suddenly on her shoulders, and Bianca drew in a deep breath, focused on their solid warmth. She put her hand over one of Merren’s, tucking her fingers in under it.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just had a bad time in there yesterday morning, that’s all. I couldn’t get my bearings.’ She shook her head. ‘It was the light; it was dazzling, and…’ She shrugged, swallowed.

  Merren lowered herself to the floor next to her and the hands on her shoulders were suddenly arms around her. Bianca closed her eyes, loosened her fist and the blue oil stick fell from it and rolled away on the floor. She opened her hand and pressed her fingers into Merren’s hair. Closed her eyes and buried her face against Merren’s neck.

  ‘You smell good,’ she said, and Merren didn’t answer, just held her, right there on the hard floorboards. Bianca wriggled closer, folding herself against Merren, seeking her warmth, feeling her own desire rising like mercury in a thermometer.

  Merren’s hands paused against her, then ranged gently and tentatively over her back and Bianca tipped her head back, the relief of being touched making her breathless.

  ‘Is this all right? she asked. ‘I really want you to hold me right now, touch me.’

  She felt Merren nod against her, and there was no hesitation in it.

  ‘Yes,’ Merren said. ‘Definitely yes.’

  Bianca closed her eyes, rubbed her cheek against Merren’s. ‘You make me want to purr like a cat,’ she said. ‘Just stretch out and purr, nuzzle right up to you.’ She sighed, but not a sound now of sadness or frustration, but a murmuring noise of pleasure, deep in her throat.

  ‘You make me want to do a great many things,’ Merren answered, her voice a low rumble against Bianca’s breastbone. One arm looped around Bianca’s waist, and the other hand traced her dips and curves, and up to cup a breast under the thin shirt she wore.

  ‘Oh, that feels so good,’ Bianca said. ‘I haven’t been touched for so long, and it feels so very good.’ She was light-headed with it.

  ‘Your heart is beating fast,’ Merren whispered.

  Bianca just whimpered a little as fingers caught her nipple through her bra and squeezed lightly. ‘Oh my god,’ she moaned.

  ‘Is that okay?’

  Bianca wanted to laugh. ‘Oh yeah,’ she said. ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  She bent her head down at that, seeking Merren’s lips, and a moment later she found them, and the kiss sent ripples of pleasure through her body, and great billows of colour through her mind. Pleasure had colour, she discovered, and drank the knowledge in, watching it swirl in great sweeps of blue and pink.

  ‘You have amazing lips,’ Bianca said, gasping out the words, searching for Merren’s lips with her fingers, tracing their outline with fingertips that seemed exquisitely sensitive. Her eyes were closed, but she felt like she could see them, the way they parted slightly, the pale rose fullness of them. Merren made a slight sound deep in her throat and Bianca bent down and kissed her again, exploring her lips with her own, feeling how exquisitely sensitive their mouths were, brushing against each other, light, feather-light, the lightest of brush strokes, just a curve of colour and form.

  They broke apart, Bianca holding Merren’s face, already wanting more, wanting to pepper kisses all over that smooth skin, wanting to throw off all her clothes and let Merren’s glorious hands range far and wide over every inch of her, sending great wafts of colour curling through her.

  She swallowed, opening her eyes, and tipped her head to the side, the better to see Merren. This close, she could almost make out features.

  ‘I want you to make love to me,’ she said, fingers clutching at Merren, pushing through her hair, stroking down over cheeks and jawline. ‘I want you to touch me all over. I want to touch you. Everywhere.’ She pressed her lips to Merren’s forehead. ‘Can we do that?’ she asked.

  Merren’s answer was a groaning agreement, and Bianca smiled, filled with the colour and sensation of desire.

  ‘But in bed,’ she said. ‘The floor is hard.’

  Merren’s hands stilled, then grasped her around the waist, and lifted. Bianca giggled, trying to find the way to standing up, then got her legs under her and reached a hand down to pull Merren from the floor.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. And with Merren’s hand in hers, she found the door and threaded them through it and down the hallway.

  They paused for the bathroom, and Bianca leaned towards the mirror over the basin, trying to see more than the fuzz of her hair, the ghost blur of her face. She touched a hand to her lips and closed her eyes, thinking of the colours she’d seen when Merren had kissed her. They’d swirled around her, beautiful and astonishing. Her lips were sensitive under her fingers and she opened her eyes again, wanting to hurry, to go back to Merren and kiss her again.

  The swirl of colours was there in the mirror, and she blinked at the sight of them, startled. Hadn’t they been only in her mind, the colours?

  No, they were there when she had her eyes open. She lifted a hand and swiped at them, and watched her hand sweep a track through them, sending them wafting away like clouds of c
andyfloss.

  ‘Merren?’ she called, turning to scrabble for the doorknob. ‘Merren, where are you?’

  She got the door open, and stumbled out into the hallway, calling for Merren, hearing her voice rise in panic, and not caring.

  ‘I’m here, what’s the matter?’ Warm hands grasped her, and Merren’s face swam into view on the edges of her vision. ‘What’s wrong, Bianca?’

  For a moment, she couldn’t find any words, could only peer out of the corner of her eyes at Merren, her mouth dry, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  ‘Bianca, for god’s sakes, you’re worrying me!’ The fingers clamped harder to her upper arms.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m seeing things, I think, Merren,’ she said.

  ‘Seeing things? What sort of things?’

  Bianca licked her lips. ‘Colours,’ she said and blinked. ‘It started when we were kissing. Lots of colours. Gorgeous, beautiful colours. I thought it was just like when I smelt the daisies earlier – outside – the flowers and grass. I thought I was just translating my other senses into colour, since, you know…’

  ‘You’re a painter.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  ‘But you’re actually seeing them?’

  Bianca nodded. ‘I’ve got my eyes open, right?’ She huffed a nervous laugh. ‘I can see you like normal – well, my normal, but there are all these colours swirling around.’ She blinked and tried to focus on them and they shifted and shivered like a mist.

  ‘You’re shaking,’ Merren said, and her hands moved as she tucked herself to Bianca’s side. ‘Let’s go and sit down for a moment, okay?’

  Bianca nodded, let Merren lead her somewhere until she felt her bed behind her legs and she sat down, her knees giving out in relief.

  ‘Can you still see them?’ Merren asked, and Bianca nodded.

  ‘Yes. They’re kind of swirling around like thin, colourful streaks.’ She squeezed her eyes shut tight then sprang them open again. Still there. ‘Or like tracers from fireworks.’

  ‘What’s your doctor’s name?’

  Bianca turned her head towards Merren. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s your doctor’s name? I’m going to call the hospital.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bianca closed her eyes. ‘Um, I don’t know. What is it?’ She couldn’t remember right now. ‘Downstairs, in my office. There’s an appointment letter on my desk.’ Rita had read it out to her. She was sure it was still there on the desk.

  ‘Okay, well, I’m going to go give them a call. Will you be all right here, or do you want to come with me?’

  Bianca looked around the room. She could still see the vague blob of her wardrobe, the brighter square of the window.

  ‘The colours have changed,’ she said and reached out to touch them again, as though they were cobwebs she could sweep away with her fingers. ‘They were blue and pink while we were kissing.’ She laughed a little. ‘I thought they were the colours of my desire for you.’

  The bed sank down beside her, and Merren’s arm crept around her.

  ‘What colour is it now?’

  Bianca shook her head. ‘Still pink, but with a pearly white as well. It’s just kind of drifting around. Like a spook in an old sheet.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go downstairs so I can call the hospital.’ The bed bounced again as Merren got up. Bianca caught at her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This isn’t what I had planned.’

  A soft kiss landed on her forehead. ‘No worries. It’ll wait, if we want it to.’

  Bianca nodded and stood up, holding onto Merren’s hand. ‘I want it to,’ she said. A little bit of blue swirled back into view. ‘I liked where it was going.’

  Merren’s laugh was warm and rich. ‘So did I. Oh hell yeah.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  The armrest on the chair in the doctor’s office had nubby fabric and Bianca picked at it, nervous, unable to stop her fidgeting. She bit her lip when Merren’s smooth hand landed gently on top of hers and twisted her fingers to hold onto it instead.

  Doctor Andropolis had examined her eyes, clicking and tutting under his breath as he did so. She wished he wouldn’t do that – it made her more nervous, but he did it every time and she guessed it was just a habit of his.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s something of a normal progression, Bianca,’ he said to her from across his wide desk. She lifted her free hand and wiped the sheen of perspiration from her forehead. How Merren had managed to get her straight in to see the doctor, she didn’t quite know, except that there’d been a phone conversation and Merren had been insistent.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, and Merren’s fingers squeezed hers. She was glad she’d brought Merren in with her, because this was a lot to take in.

  The doctor cleared his throat. ‘When the vision deteriorates, as is has been doing in your case, the brain still tries to interpret the information it receives. The trouble is, that very often that information is so corrupted, so to speak, that the brain is forced to be inventive.’ He paused for a moment and made that clucking sound again. Bianca decided she hated it.

  ‘You’re actually very lucky,’ he said.

  Lucky?

  ‘In what way, Doctor?’ Merren asked, and her voice was interested, intense.

  ‘Well, a great many patients with Macular Deterioration actually begin hallucinating when the problems reach a certain point. Which is what you’re doing, Bianca – except your hallucinations are pretty benign compared to some.’

  Bianca shuddered. Right now, the colours were gone, but there were still odd distortions she’d never seen before in some areas of her vision, and she could easily imagine them taking on shape and form, turning monstrous.

  ‘What Bianca is seeing right now, the hallucinations, are they likely to change?’ Merren asked.

  ‘Will they be constant?’ Bianca added.

  ‘I can’t say,’ the doctor told them, and didn’t add anything further.

  Closing her eyes, Bianca rubbed at her eyelids.

  ‘What are other people’s experience, Doctor, in general?’ Merren again. ‘Once these visual disturbances are seen, do they stick around?’

  The doctor sighed, probably at being cornered. ‘In general, yes. Once the brain begins to interpret to this degree, it doesn’t really quit.’

  It was brightly lit in the doctor’s office, and Bianca opened her eyes, peered around. She could see Merren sitting beside her, had to turn her head to look at Andropolis. He was a bearded blur in a white-coated smudge. She looked back at Merren, whose colouring and shape were getting familiar to her. Which was comforting. She held Merren’s hand tighter, then stood up.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I guess that’s that, then. If there’s nothing to be done.’

  The doctor stood up behind his desk. ‘I’m afraid there isn’t, Bianca. How are you getting on with the physical therapy and aids we put you onto?’

  ‘Fine,’ Bianca said. But Merren interrupted her.

  ‘What aids are these?’

  She tugged her hand free and folded her arms across her breasts. ‘The cane,’ she said.

  ‘And other things to make life easier at home and out and about, Bianca. Simple things, for the most part.’ He seemed to be talking to Merren now. ‘Items to help with cooking and manoeuvring around the house.’

  ‘Do I get a guide dog as well?’ Bianca asked acidly. She wanted to go home. The white fog wavered at her from the corner of the room, shivering like a wraith.

  ‘Well, that is a possibility, of course,’ the doctor said, and Bianca closed her eyes. He was taking her question seriously. ‘There is quite the waiting list, and a procedure to go through, but I do recommend it, actually.’

  She turned to Merren. ‘I want to go now,’ she said, and put a hand out to feel where the chair was, determined not to have a crashing tangle with it the way she had earlier in the day with the one in her kitchen.

  Merren’s chair scraped back. ‘Do yo
u have any printed information on these home aids you can give me, Doctor Andropolis? And the guide dogs?’

  Bianca didn’t want a dog. She hadn’t had a dog in the house for five years. Not since Samson. She hugged herself again. Samson had died in the car crash with Bess.

  The door knob was welcome under her hand and she tugged the door open without waiting for Merren and Andropolis to finish their conversation. Slipping out the door she pressed her back to the corridor wall and waited.

  Merren touched her shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  A tart nod. ‘Sure,’ Bianca said. ‘Can we go now? I hate hospitals.’ She pushed off from the wall.

  ‘It’s this way, Bianca,’ Merren said. ‘Here, tuck your hand in the crook of my arm. I’ll escort you like this is the 1940’s and I’m the proudest guy in town.’

  Bianca blinked, then barked a laugh. And did as she was told, threading her hand between Merren’s warm side and her elbow, curling her fingers loosely around Merren’s arm.

  ‘You make it very hard to stay mad about anything,’ she said. They walked down the corridor together, Merren steering her around obstacles that were just blobs and blurs.

  ‘Well, what can I say?’ Merren replied. ‘There’s a bright side to everything.’

  ‘Yes?’ Bianca was dubious. ‘What’s the bright side to this, then?’

  ‘Which this?’

  Bianca waved a hand at the hospital around them.

  ‘Well, you’re seeing colours when you could be seeing ghouls.’

  Bianca shuddered. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘There’s that.’

  ‘Yep,’ Merren replied. ‘I’d say so.’ She patted Bianca’s hand.

  ‘What’s the bright side to me losing my sight in the first place?’

  ‘Tough one.’ Merren sighed. ‘Mum would say you probably won’t know for some time.’

  ‘Or ever.’ Bianca wished she hadn’t asked.

  ‘No,’ Merren disagreed. ‘Although she’d also say there will probably come a time when you can say that it’s turned out okay.’ She planted a kiss on Bianca’s temple. ‘And in the meantime – well, if not for this, you wouldn’t have met me.’