The Day I Opened My Eyes to His Lies

The night before I left for Northgate Hospital, I went back to the parlor for the ID I'd forgotten.

But at the back door, I overheard my coworker Pamela Pruitt talking with my boyfriend, Abraham Gilbert.

She's an idiot. She still thinks I'm blind.

But that's exactly the type the customers like. Pretty, can't see, willing to sweet-talk them for money.

"And those ugly, filthy clientsmight as well let her take them if they tip a little. I can't stand serving them."

I froze in the doorway.

All these years, Pamela always said she was handing me the clients with the highest commission.

I thought she felt sorry for me, that she knew I was rushing to save up for the surgery. In my heart I'd treated her like a real sister.

Abraham laughed under his breath.

"It's fine. Give her the difficult ones. She takes the money and then she comes back and thanks us for it."

"She can't see anyway. Even if she gets treated badly, a couple of soft words from me and she's fine."

The blood in me went cold all at once.

Abraham was the person I trusted most.

Five years ago I lost my sight in a car crash, and he stayed with me the whole time, gave me this job.

I'd imagined it countless timesthat when I got my sight back, the first face I'd see would be his.

I hadn't even seen their faces yet.

But I already saw exactly what kind of people they were.

The surgery in Northgate was scheduled three days out.

This time, once I went to Northgate, I wasn't coming back.

...

I pushed the back door open, and their laughter cut off at once.

"Pamela, you can see, can't you?"

There was a brief silence.

Abraham took hold of my arm.

"Weren't you home packing? Why are you back?"

I'd taken time off from the parlor, telling them I was going home to see Grandma.

The truth was I was going to Northgate for eye surgery. I wanted it to be a surprise for them.

"If I hadn't come back, how would I ever know you two have been treating me like a fool this whole time?"

Another silence.

Then Pamela, rushing to explain.

"Fiona Abbott, my sight only came back a little. I just hadn't had the chance to tell you."

"And the clientssomeone has to take them, right? They tip well, and weren't you the one short on money?"

Abraham frowned too.

"That's right. Yeah, it's harder on you, but your commission really is more than anyone else's. You'll save up for the surgery sooner."

The air had gone awkward, and Pamela jumped in to smooth it over.

"Oh, rightdidn't you take time off to go home? Bring me back some of the greens your grandma grows."

"Those greens last time were so green and lush. You could tell right away how fresh they were."

How would a truly blind person know the greens were green and lush?

Pamela seemed to catch her own slip, and hurried to add:

"I heard it from Abraham. He said the greens were green, that they looked nice."

I stood there, and all the moments I'd overlooked came back to me.

Pamela could put her hand right on the cup on the table.

She could tell me when there was a stain on my clothes.

When a client stood at the door saying nothing, she'd be the first to turn her head.

She'd said before that her hearing was good, and I'd believed her.

It had never once crossed my mind that someone who shared my suffering would use my blindness to deceive me.

Outside, it suddenly started to rain.

Raindrops slammed against the metal roof, faster and faster.

Abraham checked the time.

"All right, enough of this. There won't be any customers this late. Let's head back."

"Pam, I'll call you a car. I'll take Fiona myself."

The car came quickly, and the door opened.

"Pam, message me when you get home."

Only after the taxi drove away did he drape the rain poncho over me.

I felt the soaked seat of the electric scooter.

"We're riding this?"

"Yeah. A cab's too expensive."

Abraham fastened my helmet for me.

"You can't see, so you keep me company, and it puts my mind at ease carrying you."

I climbed on behind him.

Rain slipped in through the gaps in the poncho and down my collar, and the muddy water thrown up by the tires soaked my shoes and socks.

Abraham rode slowly.

At every intersection, he reminded me to hold on tight.

He'd put the helmet on for me, and he'd have me hold his waist over the bumps.

But all I could think about was the person in that car, who hadn't caught a single drop of rain.

Back home, Abraham fetched a dry towel from the bathroom and draped it over my head.

"Dry off quick, before you catch a cold."

Then he went and ran a bath for me.

"You're soaked through. Go wash up."

His voice was as patient as ever.

For a second I even wondered if I'd misheard everything by the back door.

By the time I came out of the bath, he'd already made me a cup of instant ginger tea.

The side of the mug was warm. He wrapped my hand around it.

"Drink it while it's hot. You were out in the rain so long today. I don't want you spiking a fever tonight."

I bent my head and took a sip.

Maybe it was everything sitting on my mind, but it always tasted like something was missing.

His phone chimed once, and Abraham opened the message.

Pamela's soft voice floated out of the speaker.

"Abraham, the air conditioning in the taxi is way too cold!"

"My stomach's kind of upset now. I don't know if I got chilled."

Abraham was on his feet at once.

"Lie down first. I'll make you some ginger tea."

And with that he went into the kitchen.

Soon I heard the knife come down on the cutting board.

Then the cabinet door, the red dates being taken out, the gas burner clicking on.

I sat quietly on the couch, holding my cup of instant ginger tea.

He kept muttering to himself in the kitchen.

"Can't put in too much ginger. Pam doesn't like it spicy."

"Go easy on the brown sugar too. She doesn't want it too sweet."

"Need to hurry, get it over to her fast, or she'll come down with a cold and it'll be a mess."

He remembered that Pamela couldn't take spice, remembered she didn't like things too sweet.

But the ginger tea he'd handed me just now was something he'd grabbed from the cabinet and stirred up without a thought.

I'd been drinking it for years, and he'd never once felt there was anything wrong with that.

The ginger tea was still simmering.

He slipped out to help me pack.

He folded my clothes one by one and tucked the medicines I usually took into the side pocket.

"Motion-sickness pills go on the very outside, so you're not digging for them later."

"Oh, and when you come back, remember to bring Pam some leafy greens."

My hands went still.

"Do you even remember what my grandma likes? Aren't you going to bring her something?"

"Just grab some fruit on the way, say it's from me. Older folks all like that kind of thing, don't they?"

I didn't say anything else.

That crash years ago hadn't just taken my sight. It had taken my parents too.

Grandma is the only family I have left in this world.

Yet he wanted me to bring back greens for Pamela, and it never crossed his mind to send anything to my grandma.

He only remembered Pamela.

Abraham patted the suitcase, already full.

"You're only going back for a week. All this stuff?"

"Anyone who didn't know better would think you weren't coming back."

I said softly,

"Maybe I really won't."

Abraham laughed and reached over to ruffle my hair.

"All right, go let your grandma spoil you for a few days. Once you've cooled off, you'll come home."

The water in the kitchen came to a boil.

Abraham turned off the flame and poured the finished ginger tea into a thermos.

"She just sat under the air conditioning for a while. You're taking it over right now?"

"Yeah. She lives alone, no one around to look after her. I can't rest easy."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Then he set the cane down beside me.

"Get to bed early. I'll be back soon."

After the door shut, the apartment went completely still.

I kept packing the last of my things.

When I opened the cabinet, my fingertips brushed a row of neat, square boxes.

Oat milk, sugar-free crackers, and heat patches.

All of it things Pamela was used to.

The moment any of it ran low, Abraham would restock it ahead of time.

But I'd been saying for a week that I wanted an orange soda.

Every time, Abraham would say,

"I'll get you one next time."

And to this day he never had.

I braced myself on the cabinet and stood, meaning to put my ID in the suitcase.

The cane had barely touched the floor when the tip skidded out hard.

I pitched forward, and my knee slammed into the edge of the coffee table.

It hurt.

He'd just washed the red dates for the ginger tea, and the floor was slick with water he hadn't wiped up.

I'd fallen because of this more times than I could count.

He still hadn't changed.

The cane was a problem too. I'd used it so long that the rubber tip on the bottom had worn smooth.

I'd asked Abraham to fix it for me ages ago.

He clearly knew how to fix things. When the leg of a table at Pamela's place came loose, he went over and had it done in a few minutes.

But when it came to my cane, all he did was wrap some tape around it a few times.

"It still works. Just make do."

Later the tape peeled off, and I asked him to fix it again.

He always said he was busy, make do, he'd get to it when he had time.

So now, I'd fallen again.

I felt my way back to the couch, my palm pressed against my throbbing knee.

Lying there, phone at my side, it never rang, not once, the whole night.

That night, Abraham didn't come home.

Abraham didn't come home until the next morning.

I was sitting on the couch, rubbing my knee, when I heard the lock turn.

He set breakfast on the table, came over, and pressed a hand to my forehead.

"Sorry. It poured again last night, and her stomach was bothering her. I got worried, so I stayed."

"You didn't run a fever last night, did you?"

I shook my head.

His hand slid down my arm and paused when it reached my knee.

"How did it swell up like this?"

"Slipped again while I was walking. Took a fall."

Abraham crouched down, found the medicated oil, and rubbed it on for me.

"Why didn't you call me?"

I didn't answer. He let out a small scoff.

"I knew it. Still sulking? Don't hold on to every little thing."

I didn't argue. But if I had called, would he have come home?

Pamela's stomach was only a little upset, and he'd kept watch at her place all night.

Now I'd taken a fall, and to him it probably meant nothing.

After all, I'd fallen plenty of times before, and he'd never said much then either.

Once he'd finished with the oil, he picked up the cane and looked it over.

"You're right, it needs replacing. When you get back from Grandma's, I'll buy you a new one."

He'd said that many times before, too.

I didn't call him on it. I just made a small sound of agreement.

After breakfast, Abraham called a car for me.

He put my luggage in the trunk, helped me into the seat, and buckled my seatbelt with his own hands.

"Message me when you get to Grandma's. Don't stay too long."

"If you're not back in a week, I'll come get you myself."

He said it so certainly, as if I were only throwing a tantrum.

"You're not seeing me off?"

"I've got something to take care of soon. Just message me when you arrive."

The door shut, and his footsteps faded away.

"Sir, not the station. Take me to the airport, please."

The drive was long.

At the airport, I got out with my cane.

I walked fast, felt a little warm, and pulled off my jacket.

Faintly, I caught people murmuring nearby.

"Doesn't she know? Didn't anyone at home remind her?"

At first I didn't pay attention.

Then a little girl ran up beside me, tipped her face up, and asked,

"Miss, why did you wear a torn dress out?"

I froze, then smiled and explained.

"It isn't torn, sweetie. It's my denim dress."

"But there's a big hole on the back. It's all black, like it got burned."

Her mother quickly pulled her back.

"I'm sorry. Children don't know when to hold their tongue."

But I called out to her.

"Could you tell me, please, where the hole is?"

The woman was quiet for a moment.

"It's on the back of the skirt. The edges are scorched. It doesn't look like the design was meant that way."

I gripped my cane tighter.

A few months ago, Pamela had come over to visit.

She'd run her hand over my denim dress and said with a smile,

"This blue is so pretty. It really suits you."

She'd also said her own dress had gotten ruined by accident, singed with a curling iron.

A few days later, Abraham opened my closet and, all secretive, took one of my dresses.

"Pam's clothes aren't dry yet. She'll just borrow yours for a day."

The next day, he put the dress back.

The fabric felt about the same, so I assumed it was still mine.

So he'd given my good dress to Pamela and put her scorched one back in my closet.

Because he knew I couldn't see.

The little girl's mother took my jacket and tied it around my waist.

"Wear your own jacket like this, over it. It'll cover the hole."

"You're out on your own. Isn't there anyone at home to check your clothes for you?"

I touched the fabric at my waist.

There was someone who checked. He just never told me.

My phone buzzed several more times. A voice message from Abraham.

"Are you at the station yet?"

"Don't forget the greens. Pam likes them."

I only replied: "I'm here."

He didn't know.

Where I'd arrived wasn't the station. It was the airport.

I was afraid Abraham would insist on driving me to the station, so I told him my flight left three hours earlier than it did.

Once he was gone, I could switch to a cab and go to the airport instead.

But I'd overthought it.

So now there were still more than four hours until the plane took off.

When I checked my luggage, the attendant took my bag from me.

My cane slid across the polished floor, then jerked sideways.

She caught me quickly.

"The tip of your cane is worn completely smooth. It's dangerous to keep using it like this. Why didn't you replace it?"

I answered without thinking.

"My boyfriend said he'd get me a new one when I got back."

The attendant found a rubber anti-slip pad and crouched down to fix it onto the tip for me.

It took her only a few minutes.

Something Abraham had dragged out for months was solved by a stranger.

An hour before takeoff, according to the schedule I'd given Abraham, I should already have been home.

He called.

"You there yet? Whatever you do, don't forget the greens!"

"Mm."

His end of the line was lively.

There was the clink of bowls and chopsticks.

A middle-aged woman called out warmly.

"Abraham, come sit next to Pam."

"She said her stomach's been hurting since yesterday. Fix her something light."

A man laughed.

"You're at Uncle's house now, no need to stand on ceremony. We're all family from here on."

Pamela cut in, her voice sweet.

"Dad, don't say things like that."

Abraham seemed to move away a little.

"Why is it so quiet on your end?"

"You didn't see me off today because you were in a hurry to go meet Pamela's parents?"

He paused.

"Her aunt and uncle hardly ever come to town, and they asked me to eat with them. Didn't I already call you a cab?"

As if calling me a cab counted as seeing me off himself.

"This dress I'm wearing. It's the one Pamela burned with her curling iron, isn't it?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

Abraham's voice turned stiff.

"That was ages ago. Why are you suddenly bringing it up?"

"So it's true?"

"Pam's parents showed up out of nowhere that day, and your dress was about the same as hers, so I let her wear yours first."

I gripped the phone.

"And then you put the one she'd burned back in my closet?"

"It's not like I threw your stuff away," Abraham said, growing impatient. "It's just a little hole in the back, that's all."

"You've got a jacket on today anyway. Just cover it up."

So he'd seen it all along.

When he helped me into the car, when he buckled my seatbelt, he knew there was a scorched hole in the back of my dress.

And he didn't say a single word to warn me.

My voice rose before I could stop it.

"Pamela can't meet her parents in a burned dress, so you gave her mine."

"My cane's been broken for months and you told me to make do. But her table leg gets loose and you go out in the rain to fix it."

"Now her parents are here, and you don't even have time to take me to the station."

"Abraham, why is it that everything can just be 'good enough' when it comes to me?"

He was silent for a moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was full of weary patience.

"Don't be difficult. You really haven't been yourself lately."

"You heard it wrong that night. How many more times do I have to explain?"

On the other end, Pamela's mother called to him again.

"Abraham, the fish Pam put on your plate is getting cold."

Her father laughed too.

"Stop being on the phone all night. This is a family dinner."

A family dinner.

"Abraham, whose boyfriend are you, exactly?"

His voice dropped low.

"Here we go again. I found you a job, I picked you up after work, I've taken care of you for years."

"Haven't I been good enough to you?"

But that goodness was so cheap, so filthy.

It even came laced with tricking me into taking the clients Pamela didn't want, tricking me into using my blindness to pull in business.

Was that kind of goodness really love?

What Pamela got was probably the favoritism he'd truly wanted to give all along.

"Let's break up."

Abraham actually laughed.

"Don't try to scare me with a breakup. You need someone to tell you when your dress is torn. What would you even do without me?"

"Go home, let your grandmother spoil you for a few days. I'll come get you in a week."

He was as certain as if he were soothing a child throwing a tantrum.

I didn't explain any further.

"Don't bother coming."

"Fine, but remember to bring the greens."

I hung up.

Soon an attendant came to take me to board.

Seeing I was blind, she came over and guided me along.

Every few steps, she warned me ahead of time.

"There's a threshold coming up, careful."

"Seats on your left, take it slow."

Even a stranger treated me this way, and Abraham had never once told me to be careful.

Before the cabin doors closed, Abraham sent another voice message.

"See you in a week."

I turned off my phone.

He thought I was only going back to my grandmother's to sulk for a few days.

But as the plane left the ground, I was flying to Northgate.

We would never see each other again.