A second text came a few seconds later. I mean, he’s blind. So that’s unfortunate.
That afternoon, Mom consented to loan me the car so I could drive down to Memorial to check in on Isaac.
I found my way to his room on the fifth floor, knocking even though the door was open,
and a woman’s voice said, “Come in.” It was a nurse who was doing something to the bandages on Isaac’s eyes.
“Hey, Isaac,” I said. And he said, “Mon?” “Oh, no. Sorry. No, it’s, um, Hazel.
Um, Support Group Hazel? Night-of-the-broken-trophies Hazel?” “Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, people keep saying my other senses will improve to compensate, but CLEARLY NOT YET.
Hi, Support Group Hazel. Come over here so I can examine your face with my hands
and see deeper into your soul than a sighted person ever could.”
“He’s kidding,” the nurse said. “Yes,” I said. “I realize.” I took a few steps toward the bed.
I pulled a chair up and sat down, took his hand. “Hey,” I said. “Hey,” he said back.
Then nothing for a while. “How you feeling?” I asked. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t know.”
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