The Gift

I walk down the hall, drawing stares from both staff and patients alike. I was enjoying all the shocked faces I saw.

Passing a door, I nearly collided with someone coming out of the room. Jerking myself and my metal pole to a stop, I find myself standing in front of nurse Jason.

He reaches a hand up and runs his fingers through my short hair. I think I blush at the intimate contact. It’s not like this is the first time he’s touched me, but this was different. It was intimate – more personal.

“Cool,” he says withdrawing his fingers from my hair. “I like the new look.”

“Thanks,” I say suddenly shy. Then I lamely add, “My nails match,” holding up my hand near my hair. I already feel stupid so I add, “My toenails too.” My darn ears felt hot again.

“So they do,” he says looking at my fingernails. “I take it it was your day with Anna?” I nod slowly. “And do YOU like it?” I nod again. “I’m happy for both of you then,” he says.

“Both of us?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah. You obviously because you like it. Anna too because she’s been looking a long time for that special person who it would fit, and who would appreciate it. I guess she finally found that special someone. You should know that she’s been looking for a long time. She must really like you. Most parents would freak out if anyone of us suggested this and for her to take the chance as well…”

Crap! I don’t think she asked and I know I didn’t, but I couldn’t say that – not to anyone. I wouldn’t get Anna in trouble.

“Yeah, well, I made it sound like my idea so if they got mad it wouldn’t be at her,” I lie.

“Good for you.”

“Plus my parents are cool. And it washes out after a few weeks, Anna said. So no harm done if someone didn’t like it.”

“Okay, well, I gotta run, work calls. You look good. Enjoy it,” he says.

“Thanks,” I mumble as he walks off. I hadn’t thought about Anna possibly getting in trouble for this. Now I was worried.

Should I go find her and tell her what Jason told me? She spent time with me so she probably had other stuff to do and I would see her at lunch, so I decided to wait. Feeing troubled, I decided to leave my floor where everyone knows me. Less chance to get Anna in trouble.

Ignoring the stares and comments now, I head to the elevator and automatically press the down button. I get lucky and the car to my left arrives first and I shuffle in the thankfully empty car.

Not sure where I’m heading, I decide to go as far as I can get and press the button for the ground floor. The bell dings, the door opens and I step out as the gathered crowd parts for me.

I walk on automatic, ignoring the looks of surprise that I would normally be relishing right now, because they wouldn’t be the looks I normally got. Those sympathetic looks people give those who look like the walking dead.

An automatic door opens in front of me and startles me out of my funk. I ended up in the indoor rec area that is in an annex to the main hospital.

It was basically an indoor playground. There were monkey bars, swings, the little fort and slide things, rocking horses on big springs, teeter-totters, a merry-go-round, and a sandbox, all protected by a spongy mat that took most of the hurt out of a fall, but not all of it.

I knew I could drag my pump across the mat without too much effort, but my options on what I could do were severely limited.

There were a few kids here, some patients, some not, playing but it wasn’t crowded. I headed for one of the three swings. It was the only option for me, and I couldn’t even really swing. Maybe rock ack and forth a foot or two, but that was as far as my tubing would allow.

There was a boy about my age, wearing street clothes and sunglasses, sitting on the middle swing. He was basically doing what I was going to do – rock.

I rattled my way over to the swing and say down on one end, saying, “Mind if I join you? I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Knock yourself out, I don’t own them,” he replies.

I plant my foot and push lightly, watching my line to make sure I don’t go too far in either direction. After several times back and forth I come to a stop.

I’m not usually too forward, nor too shy, but I felt the need to talk. Talk to somebody – anybody - so I did even though I said I’d be quiet. “I’m Amanda,” I say holding out my hand.

The boy turned his head towards me and cocked it at an angle.

I waited, hand held out thinking I might have offended him by talking when I said I wouldn’t.

“Let me guess,” he says. “Your hand is out waiting for me to take it.”

A statement, not a question.

I look down at my hand. Umm, yeah. Duh. “Kinda,” I say.

He reaches his hand out - it goes near mine, but not to mine. I wonder if he’s messing with me. “Now the ball’s back in your court,” he says.

Okay, so he is playing with me. I take his hand and shake it. We stop shaking but he doesn’t let go.

“Benjamin. But you can call me Ben,” he tells me.

“You can call me Mandy if you want.”

He turns my hand over so it’s palm down and puts his other hand on top, so my hand is now between his two. Using his fingertips he draws his hand down mine to my fingertips, then puts his hand back over mine and turns all three hands over. He then lifts the hand on top slightly and runs his fingertips down the palm of my hand. It’s light enough that it tickles and my fingers curl up but straighten as his fingers go down mine.

I can’t see anything behind his sunglasses so I watch his hand move over mine, wondering what he’s up to.

At my fingertips, he draws his hand up and releases the slight pressure he had with his other hand, allowing me my hand back, but for some reason I leave it where it is.

Looking up into his face I don’t see the other kid until he is standing in front of us, practically yelling, “Your hair is blue, how cool.”

My head snaps to this new kid. “Yes, it is. Maybe when you’re older you can do it too,” I say to the kid who looks to be about six. “Go on now, we’re trying to talk.”

The kid looks at me like he wants to argue, and I give him my stern adult face and he decides to leave instead.

After the kid walks away, Ben says, “Your hands are soft,” as if we weren’t interrupted at all.

“Uh, thanks,” I manage off-guard.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

You just did, I reply in my head. I nod.

He waits quietly. So do I until finally I can’t hold it in and say, “Well?”

He sighs and says, “You nodded, didn’t you?”

Huh? “That’s what you wanted to ask me?”

“No, of course not,” he says shaking his head. “What I wanted to ask is – Is your hair really blue?”

Huh again? “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought color blind people couldn’t see like green or red. Something like that,” I say.

“I’m not sure really. But the real answer you need is a blind person can’t see ANY color. Except maybe back,” Ben says with a smile.

Oh. My. God. I now feel so stupid. “You’re…” I sputter.

Now he nods and taps the glasses he’s wearing.

“I’m so…” Sorry? Stupid? Oblivious? I was so wrapped up in my problems I missed what was right in front of me. Literally.

“Blue?” he finishes for me.

“Yes, blue,” I say.

“I’m gonna say the bright, shiny blue. Not a dull or dark blue.”

“Yep, electric blue.”

“Your nails match, don’t they?”

“As do my toenails,” I tell him, unconsciously wiggling them.

“So you match head-to-toe,” he says and laughs.

“You could say that I guess.”

“I just did, didn’t I?”

Duh. Good going spaz. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask, chiding myself for belittling him for doing that.

“Sure.”

“This is probably dumb, but do you know what blue looks like?”

“That normally wouldn’t be a dumb question, however, if you think about where we are…” He uses his free hand to point around. “You could probably guess that I wasn’t born this way. If I was, then no. I’d have no idea what blue was, nor any other color. But I lost my sight a few years ago. So I know what blue is, even electric blue. And if I could feel your face, I imagine I would feel what I remember is a pretty girl.”

There go my darn ears again. Getting hot.

“I can tell however, that you are distracted and probably upset. Your pulse is rather fast.

I’m neither, but how would he know my heart was going a mile a minute? I look down and saw my hand still in his. His touch was so light I had forgotten. “Upset. Kinda,” I manage.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Well, I’m worried that I might get someone in trouble over my hair. Someone special who wouldn’t deserve it.”

“Well that’s not good. Does anyone know?”

“Duh, my hair is bright blue. Kinda hard to miss.”

“I meant, does anyone know who did it?”

“I imagine everyone does. At least on my floor.”

“Does it come out? The color I mean.”

“In two weeks or so,” I say.

“Well, then don’t worry about it. No one should get into trouble.”

“As long as my parents don’t freak,” I say.

“How long is your hair?” he asks.

Show, err, feel, and tell time. I take Ben’s hand that is holding mine with my other hand, pulling it from the one he’s holding, and place it on top of my head.

His fingers softly run through my hair, feeling its length. “I’m gonna guess you either really like short hair, or you’ve had chemo, radiation, or both.”

“Both,” I admit.

His fingers come forward to my forehead and pause. “May I?” he asks.

Not sure what he’s asking for, I nod. Gah. I have to stop doing that around a blind kid.

As if he could read my mind he says, “I have my hand on your head. I felt you nod.”

Ears. Again. Gah.

His fingertips brush across my face lightly, up, and down, following the contours of each part: eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, and chin. As his fingers left the tip of my chin he says, “Yep, just as I thought.”

“What’s that mean?” I say defensively.

“It means I was correct in what I said earlier.”

I don’t want to admit that I was distracted earlier and don’t remember what he said so I say, “Which part?”

“That if I got to touch your face I’d find a pretty girl.”

At that moment I’m glad he can’t see. I must make a pretty amusing sight. Bright blue hair, bright red face. “Oh, um… Thank you,” I manage and he smiles at me.

“Bennnn…” a woman calls from the doors to the hospital.

“That would be my mom,” he says. “Time to go I guess. I’ll be seeing you again.”

I giggle and say, “You did not just say that.”

“I did indeed. Walk me to the door?” He holds out his hand.

I realize I’m not as stressed out, and there was nothing here I can really do anyways, so I say, “Sure,” and take his hand.

He helps me up and I grab my pole with my other hand, and we walk towards the door slowly as my IV rumbles along beside me. We get to the door where his mom is waiting and Ben says, “Mom, this is Mandy. Mandy, my mom.”

I start to hold out my hand when Ben blurts out, “Her hair is blue.”

Oh geez. Why not mention the red ears too.

“Yes Ben, I can see that thank you,” she says, amused. “It’s actually very pretty, but I think you just embarrassed her.” She holds out her hand and I take it. “Nice to meet you Mandy. I’m Brenda, Ben’s mom.”

She shakes my hand gently, but not as if I’m fragile, which I like. Her son has been through this and she knows we’re sick but we won’t break. Well, most of us at least. Some of the bone cancers cause brittle bones, so they might break.

“We don’t want to be late to the meeting Ben,” she tells him. “Say your goodbyes and catch up. Bye Mandy, nice to meet you.” She lets go of my hand and turns and walks out of the rec room.

“So,” Ben says to me, “until we meet again, then. I have a feeling it will be soon.” He releases my hand, trails his fingers up my arm to my shoulder, then up my neck to my face. Because he only uses his fingertips, this touch is light and gives me goosebumps as they trail up my neck.

Stopping at my cheek he flattens his hand and puts it down against my skin. “Cheer up, it’s not always as bad as it seems.” His thumb trails down my cheek to the corner of my lip and pushes it up gently. “And you definitely need to smile more. I imagine you look much better smiling than frowning.”

With that he drops his hand and walks to the door saying, “Tomorrow,” over his shoulder.