Photos for Morrie

After a horrific car accident, not only does Morrie lose her eyesight and her Father, but she loses the ability to take pictures, which has been her passion since she was a child.

"Morrie's eyes are ocean blue," my mom, Tori, began singing as she took the first left turn off the highway; the turn signal ticking off.

            "Oh mom, that's so old," I groaned, slapping my palm to my forehead.

"Light blue, dark blue," Tori continued, raising her voice an octave higher just to annoy me a little more.

"Mom this is not the time," I exclaimed. I tried to not let the giggle in the back of my throat come out. I lifted my Nikon Coolpix camera from my lap and snapped a picture of the driver's side of the car, knowing it would be lopsided and probably blurry. I held down the button halfway, muscle memory kicking in, and waited to hear the single click that meant the camera focused before pressing the button the rest of the way down. When the triple staccato clicks sounded, I knew that a new picture was saved waiting for me to get my vision back so I could see the beauty.

"Every hue," screeched Tori. "Morrie's eyes are ocean blue." Tori's singing suddenly became ecstatic as we made the last right before the left turn into the high school parking lot.

"I will kindly ask you stop," I whined, but Tori disregarded my plea.

"I love them and she does too!"

            "Ugh, mother," I giggled as Tori's cackle cracked the air. The turn signal snapped on once again. My memory of the looming high school materialized in my mind and I couldn't help but wonder if they finally painted the outside like they've been saying they would for years.

            "What?" giggled Tori as we mulled over a speed bump. "I haven't sung that song in a while." The car slowed to a stop and I knew we sat idling in front of my high school.

            "Precisely why you shouldn't sing it," I said with my mouth crooked with a lop-sided smile. I shook my head, trying to think of the last time Tori sang that song from my childhood; it was probably only a year or so ago… before Dad died. I winced and clenched my fist as the sound of metal crushing metal echoed in my mind.

            "Don't you shake your head at me," exclaimed Tori in faux chastisement. There was a crunch of Tori pushing the gear shift into park and I flinched. "I thought I'd try to cheer you up for your first day back at school since the accident." I felt Tori's warm hand on my thigh and she squeezed as if to remind me that she was still there. "It's your senior year, Mo. I want you to know that I love you and you'll be fine."

            "I'll be fine when Dr. Dorrow tells me he can bring my eyesight back today," I murmured; Tori's hand squeezed again. I sighed and lied, "I'm fine, Mom, really." I smiled wide, hoping it looked convincing and I heard Mom swallow and I knew the tears were beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes. Cotton caught in the back of my throat and gripped my camera in my hand. I turned around and leaned back on Tori, raising the camera into the air.

            "Smile," I tried to cheer, not even bothering to hold the shutter button down half way to let it focus. I sat up after the three quick clicks and reached at my feet for my backpack and cane. Shoving my hand through the safety band on my camera, I blinked back the water sitting at the brim of my eyelids. I slapped my hand onto the car door approximately where the door handle was. When I finally found it, I pulled and the car door popped open.

            "Bye, Mom," I said as I hustled out of the car.

            "Bye, Mo," called Tori. I shouldered my backpack and extended my cane, which I knew was all white with two red stripes wrapping around it. "Teddy should be near the entrance to help you to class." My heart clenched at the name. F**k, man.

            "Love you," I said, finding the card door with my hand.

            "Love you too," Tori replied softly as I pushed the car door shut.

I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut as I placed the tip of my cane on the asphalt and spun it in the palm of  my hand before turning and walking towards the school entrance. I heard the soft roll of our old station wagon tires driving off and that's when I knew that this was my reality.

            Noises of the high school flooded me as I tried to make my way to the entrance. The harsh scrape of a skateboard zoomed past me; shrilling shrieks of girls echoed all around me; chattering and clopping feet shook my eardrums. My clothes swished about by the wind made by rushing high school students and I stood paralyzed.

            "Morrie," called a familiar voice, and I almost fainted with relief before I realized who it was.

            "Teddy," I said, gripping my cane tight after spinning it lightly on my palm.  

            "Hey kiddo," chuckled Teddy Stouter, the school's infamous art teacher who was also a known sculptor and painter. Teddy Stouter was also my father's best friend since they were juniors in high school. Teddy was family.

            "I've hardly seen you all summer." I felt a large arm wrap itself around my shoulders and heat rose in my neck. I grasped my camera in a fist and twisted out from underneath him.

            "That wasn't my fault," I retorted, trying to stomp away in the crowd, but didn’t get too far; I ran into one person and then stopped in defeat.

            "Morrie, please," said Teddy pleadingly as gentle fingers placed themselves on the inside of my elbow. "Try to understand."

            "I understand Ted," I hissed, staring straight ahead.

            "No, you don't, darling, and I guess I know you may never understand why I had to leave you and your mom after he died."

            "I needed you," I admitted quietly, wanting to bury myself into Teddy's warm arms. "What you did was selfish and I feel stupid for being so angry at you, but you just left. You weren't even there in the crash Teddy." I reluctantly turned and looked up towards the sound of his voice. "You didn't hold him as he died."

            It was quiet in the courtyard. The bell had rung shortly after Teddy and I began talking and all the students have gone inside to start class. Teddy sighed and wrapped an arm around me; I let him.

            "I know," cold lips pressed themselves against my forehead. "I'm so sorry, Mo. We can talk about this later. Are you sure you're ready to go to class?"

            "Yes," I breathed, digging in my pocket for my schedule. I handed it to Teddy and he unfolded it. "Can you take me to my first class?" I sighed, hoping to make it through the day without shedding a single tear.

 

***

 

The chime of the bell at 3:05 startled me out of my daydreams. Finally, it was time to go home and no melodramatic-woe-is-me moments happened, fortunately.

            "Homework questions on page 32," called Teddy, my art teacher this semester, from the front of the classroom. I quickly scribbled a 3 and a 2 on the fourth page of my notebook that I had blindly written notes on the beginnings of the Civil Rights Movement.

            The rustling of backpacks being stuffed and the loud chatter of high school students quickly filled the room. My extra sensitive ears picked up the clatter of pens that rained onto the hard floor to my left. Someone hissed a curse under their breath and the door hinges squealed in agitation, letting in the racket of the hell that was the hallway. Lockers slammed shut, sneakers squeaked, and voices ruptured in laughter.

            My hot skin began to inch at all the noises and I ignore it and the sounds bombarding my ears. I began clawing at my neck as I felt near my feet for my backpack, in which I stuffed my notebook and pen into. Feeling the ground next to my backpack, I found my folded-up cane and once I stood and shouldered my backpack, I unfurled it and placed its rounded tip on the ground. I stood for a moment, letting the footsteps that came up behind me pass before I began making my way out of the cramped classroom.

            I had to stop a few more times to let furious feet pass me in a haste and by the time I made it to the front of the classroom, I knew it was just Teddy and me in the room. I heard Teddy clear his throat in the way that meant he was going to try and talk to me again. I rolled my cane in my hand, pursing my lips and hoped that I could get out of the room before Teddy could gather the courage.

            "Morrie," began Teddy. I groaned inwardly and I could feel the uncontrollable heat rising up to my cheeks. I heard Teddy's fingernails click on a wooden surface and I could imagine Teddy in his usual manner: a solid color short-sleeved button up with black pants and workbooks. I knew he stood on one foot with his other propped up on its toes, as was his usual stance. I turned to face his direction and clenched my jaw. I spun my cane in my hand again around three times, trying to keep my breathing in check.

            "I wanted to talk to you--" I could hear his lips smacking against one another as he spoke.

            "Didn't we already do this talking thing this morning, Teddy," I said interrupting him. "I'm emotionally exhausted Ted, so don't ask me how I'm doing, how my eyes are, or if I'm still taking pictures with my dad's camera." Teddy shifted his feet and stuttered, but the heat was to my ears and I was just getting started.

            "Yes, I still believe my vision will come back. It has too. Yes, I'm done mourning over dad. No, I don't need help. No, I don't want to stop taking pictures. And no, I don't need a therapist. Did that answer all your questions? I hope so cause I'm so goddamn tired of answering the same questions over and over!”

            I huffed and all the heat left with a breath. Silence strung between us as I gathered my composure and Teddy squirmed some more. He stuttered again, which was unlike him.

            "I-- um, I'm sorry," murmured Teddy, his voice raspy and catching on the consonants. I heard a single sniff and my heart felt heavy.

            "No Teddy," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sorry." I sighed and put my cane under my arm. I twisted and reached into my backpack for my camera. "Mind if I take a picture of you Teddy?"

            "Oh, um," sniffed Teddy. I heard more shuffling. "Sure, but you might want to turn more to the left." He chuckled nervously and I did just what he suggested and I raised my camera up to until it was in front of my chin and held down the shutter button. After the usual triple clicks, I turned off the camera and put it in my coat pocket.

            "Thanks," I said, smiling; I began turning around again to walk out of the class when Teddy spoke again.

            "Oh, Morrie," he exclaimed as if he just remembered something. "Your mother texted me and said she's getting hung up at the hospital and she won't be able to pick you up to take you to your appointment. So, she asked me to. Is that okay?"

            "Oh, yeah. That's fine," I lied.

            "Would you mind just waiting for a bit? There's a seat just to your left." I spun to my left and my cane hit the leg of the chair he was talking about. I heard papers shuffling over where Teddy stood and I managed to sit down.

            I pursed my lips as I stared at nothing, suddenly wanting to see Teddy's usual smooth smile and bright eyes. I wanted to see the way he raised his eyebrows at me as a silent greeting. I wanted to watch the way he and dad used to talk, making wild gestures with their hands. I wanted to see. I cursed under my breath, feeling my lungs tighten and my breath become short. I almost made it out of the school without feeling like the walls were closing in on me. My gut twisted as I sat silently, but almost gratefully. I wouldn't have to bear the whispers of the halls and feel the burning stares from eyes I couldn't meet.

 

***

 

“Watch out for the sidewalk.” My cane stopped against a barrier just as Teddy voiced his warning. “Need help?”

            “I got it,” I growled, lifting my cane onto the top of the sidewalk then shuffling forward until my toe bumped against the concrete. I cautiously lifted my foot, sliding it up the concrete until it passed. Less gracefully than I would like, I stepped up onto the sidewalk; warmth rose in my cheeks. I huffed in frustration after finding my footing.

            “Morrie, just let me help you,” whispered Teddy as I felt his fingers wrap around the inside of my elbow. I yanked my arm back, fighting to hold back a snarl.

            “I got it, Teddy,” I hissed then I snapped my jaw shut and breathed in a sharp breath. “Just tell me where to go.”

            “Fine,” Teddy said, his voice dripping in helpless annoyance. I heard the click of his teeth as he snapped his mouth shut. He, then, stuffed his hands in his pockets as he said, “Just walk forward.” So, I did.

            My cane scraped against the sidewalk, getting caught in the divots between the square slabs of concrete, but I clenched my teeth and rolled the cane in my hand, lifting it from the crack. I heard the hushed slide of automatic doors opening and my cane slid over the metal threshold onto the carpet. One more automatic door and metal threshold and the pungent smell of antiseptic hit me like a gust of wind.

            “Go to your left,” said Teddy, tapping my arm. “45 degrees.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his directions; it was like an echo from the past.

            “Go,” shouted dad after spinning me around five times. I chuckled and stumbled dizzily in the direction I thought the piñata was. My eyes were closed tightly against the bandana that was tied around my head to “keep me from cheating” as Uncle Teddy put it.

            “Smack it, Morrie,” I heard Tori shout from off the side. Her sweet cackle reverberating the air around us.

            “Ah,” I squealed, gripping the plastic bat tightly in my tiny hands. I swung blindly and missed, the momentum sending me tumbling to the ground.

            “Morrie,” yelled Uncle Teddy, his palms coming together in a sudden clap. “Get up, get up!” I clambered to my feet, laughing uncontrollably. I ran forward and swung hitting something solid.

            “Argh,” yelled dad.

            “Oh no,” I yelped, pulling off the bandana. “Daddy!” Dad clutched his knee, his face frozen in silent laughter. He gasped in air, opening his dark blue eyes and exclaimed, “Oh no that’s cheating! Put your blindfold back on!” But I didn’t, I just shut my eyes and swung back around, charging towards the piñata. I swung again and hit nothing but air.

            “Morrie, Morrie. Turn to the left,” called Uncle Teddy. “45 degrees!” I did as he said and the bat hit the piñata with a satisfying thump. Cheers and laughs from the past filled my mind.  

            Teddy and I walked up to the check-in counter as I tried to suppress my laughter.

            “What’re you laughing at?” asked Teddy, a lilt of surprise in his voice.

            “Nothing, special,” I said before telling my name to the receptionist behind the counter.

            “His knee was never the same again,” said Teddy almost too quietly for me to hear. I snickered, smiling wide for the first time in a while.

 

***

 

The pungent smell of sterilized surfaces assaulted my nose as Teddy and I sat silently in a room, waiting patiently for Dr. Durrow to walk in. The nurse that shuffled us back here already asked me the regular questions while taking my blood pressure and my weight, etc.

            "Any feelings of depression or thoughts of suicide?" the nurse had asked me as she was typing up my answer to the previous question about my sexual activity.

            "No," I said after swallowing hard. The nurse cleared her throat and made a noise that suggested she didn’t believe me. Teddy shifted in his seat in the corner, making me want to fidget myself. I sat on top of a checkup hospital bed that had paper laid on top of it. It crinkled loudly every time I moved so I resisted the urge to squirm.

            "Any losses or changes in appetite?"

            "No," I lied once again.

            "All right, last question. Any improvements or changes in your vision?"

            My breath caught in my throat. My mouth moved to lie again; lying was so easy, but that didn't make it true. I swallowed the wad of cotton in my throat, tightening my grip on my folded-up cane.

            "No," I admitted painfully. I sniffed and began chewing on my lip, hard, focusing on the dull pain I was causing my bottom lip, rather than the agony of my feeble heart being crushed.

            "All right sweetie, Dr. Durrow will be in shortly." Then the nurse left, leaving me with my easy lies and painful truth.

            "My vision will get better," I whispered to myself, refusing to believe the obvious. Teddy fussed in his seat again.

            I listened to the footsteps outside the door, waiting to hear the familiar heavy footsteps of Dr. Durrow. My heart pounded in angst. I couldn't take it anymore and I stood up, setting my cane and camera on the bed.

            "What are you doing?" asked Teddy, moving in his seat.

            "I need to move," I said, my voice shaking. I tangled my fingers, attempting to force my hands to cease shaking. I began to breathe in deeply because my lungs decided to stop working normally. I walked back and forth in the small room. It was not really walking, more like shuffling or plodding. Imaginary hands gripped my heart and lungs tightly and it felt like an earthquake was shaking my bones. I shuffled until my toes bumped the wall and then until me knee hit the counter and back again.

            "Morrie," whispered Teddy, "you'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

            "But," I whimpered, stopping to face him. At that moment Dr. Durrow walking in, rapping his knuckles on the door to announce himself at the same time.

            "Morrie," he exclaimed happily as he always did. "How are you?"

            "I'm okay," I said quietly, moving to sit back down. Then began the questions.

            "Any changes or improvements in vision?"

            "No."

            "Any flashes of light?"

            "No."

            "Look up for me. Can you see that?"

            "No."

            "This?"

            "N-no." With each distasteful "no," my mouth tasted sourer. I bit down hard on my lip and shoved my nails into the palms of my hands. I will not f*****g cry.

            "I'm going to poke your eyeball a bit so just sit and relax." I held my breath as his fingers held my eyes open. I waited anxiously to feel the prod of Dr. Durrow's tool, hoping, praying, that I would feel it.

"Can you feel this?" asked Dr. Durrow quietly. I could hear to the yearning in his voice, also. I felt a presence next to me suddenly and I knew Teddy stood by my side, reassuringly. Despite it all, like a brick wall, it hit me: I was blind.

            "No," I said barely audibly. I swallowed as Dr. Durrow removed his hands from my face with a sigh.

            "Well, Morrie, based on your test results and the results of today’s checkup, I hate to say it, but-"

            I stood up suddenly, my folded-up cane and camera in hand. "Thank you for all you've done Dr. Durrow," I said, a wide smile on my face, "but I have to go now." I walked forward with my hand out, found the doorknob and turned. I walked out quickly, taking the route that the nurse had taken us. Teddy and Dr. Durrow called out after me and I could hear footsteps so… I ran.

I leaped into a sprint, but only took about two steps before I slammed into someone else. We yelped in surprise as the force knocked us back. My cane and camera flew from my hand and I felt the safety loop from my camera wrapped around my wrist pull taught. I hit the ground abruptly, landing on my butt and my elbows except under one elbow there was a sickening crunch and I felt something sharp pierce my skin.

"No--no," I stumbled, sitting up and fumbling with my camera. Glass fell out into the palm of my hand and I could feel hot blood run down from my elbow to my hand. My breath shook and I could feel a weight like an elephant settle in my chest. I bit my lip and looked at what would be my, now broken, father's camera if only I could see. 

 

***

 

"Do you want to go to school today, Mo?" asked Tori from the doorway to my bedroom. I didn't respond as I lay curled up in my blankets on my bed, my heart heavy with grief. "It's been three days, baby." I bit my lip and kept quiet. Tori sighed and said softly, "You get to grieve Mo, baby, but there will come a time when you have to get up and move on." With that, Tori closed my door silently. I listened to her footsteps as she walked down the hall to the living room where she began talking to Teddy. I heard crying and Teddy's low voice, but I didn't care enough to tune into what they were talking about. It was always about me.

            I sat up in my bed, wrapping myself in one of my blankets and felt at the floor near my bed for a box. Once I found it, I pulled the box up onto my bed and opened it. Inside it I knew was all the hundreds of pictures that I have taken. They were put into groups in the spastic sort of way I organize. The two main groups were film photos and digital photos. Within those groups were subgroups like artsy ones organized by genre, photos I took of family, photos I took of dad, etc. I pulled out a bunch, not knowing which one of the many groups it was and began to rifle through them. I would run my thumb across each one, wondering which picture it was.

            Frustration and anger quickly overcame me and I threw the bunch back into the box and shoved the box underneath my bed. I put my head in my hands, wanted to just go to sleep and never wake up again. I was just about to crawl under my blankets and try to sleep some more when my door opened.

"Morrie," said Teddy rather urgently. I grunted in response, not looking up. "I want you to come with me. I need to show you something.”

“Show me?” I hissed, my ears burning. “You can’t show me anything!”

            A screaming fit and twenty minutes later, I sat in the car as Teddy drove me to wherever it was he felt the need to bring me.

            "Do you remember when I used to take you to my sculpting studio when you were little," asked Teddy ten minutes into our drive.

            "Yeah," I said, nodding and thinking back. "Yeah, why did you stop taking me?"

            "Because you got into photography and I wanted to let you love doing that," replied Teddy. He sighed and continued, "Well I'm going to take you to one of my friend's studio. I want you to meet her." Five minutes later we slowed to a stop and Teddy put the car in park. He helped me out of the car and into the studio. The screen door creaked shut with an echo and I could tell that we were in a large space with concrete floors and hard walls. The studio reeked of plaster and clay, just like Teddy's, except there was a hint of vanilla in the air as if there was an air freshener somewhere.

            "Jo," called Teddy. There was a crash and a yelp from far back in the studio.

            "Back here," giggled a sweet voice with a British lilt. Teddy led me back to where the voice came from.

            "Jo," said Teddy, letting go of my elbow.

            "Teddy!" There was a ruffle of clothes and I could only imagine that they were hugging.

            "Jo this is my niece, Morrie."

            "Morrie, dear," cheered the gentle voice. A hand brushed my arm and trailed down to my wrist where two hands fumbled for mine. "I've heard so much about you from this bloke." She chuckled loudly in her almost too gentle of a voice, shaking my hand strangely.

            "Morrie, this is Jo," introduced Teddy and I could tell a smile stretched across his face. "She's the one who taught me almost everything I know about sculpting."

            "Almost!" exclaimed Jo. "I taught you everyfing you know, leaving out some secrets of my own." Her soft voice was impossible to take seriously.

            "Sure, Jo," chuckled Teddy. "Well, Morrie, Jo has been blind since birth." I furled my brow and looked up in the direction of Teddy's voice. I spun my cane in the palm of my hand, feeling heat beginning to settle in my neck.

            "What're you trying to do here, Teddy," I asked suspiciously, glowering at him.

            "Oh I like this one, Ted," chuckled Jo.

            "I'm trying to show you that you can still create art, Morrie," Teddy said gently.

            "That's right m'dear. I've been sculpting wif whatever I can get me hands on since I was 'bout six because I wanted to create art for us blind folk dear. Art we can feel." Suddenly the hands enveloping mine gripped hard and began pulling me toward something.

            "Let me have you feel somefing your uncle here made for me a long time ago," Jo crooned as she pulled me down a path that I wasn't even sure she knew where it led.
            "Oh, you still have that old thing," said Teddy with a nervous laugh. I could hear the soft plod of his shoes behind me.

"Of course, I kept it, you bloke. Why would I get rid of it?" We stopped abruptly and she yanked my arm till my hand smashed up against something cold and metal. I yelped and jerked my hand back.

"Come on now," urged Jo. "Feel it." I cautiously reached my hand out again and rested my palm on what I guessed to the heads of nails on the wall. They made a curved shape and I ran my hand across the rest of it. The nails began to raise and then they lowered. I moved my hand up and felt the rise and fall of them again and again.

"What shape are they making," I asked quietly.

 

"It's me face," mused Jo not fazed by how she just assaulted my hand. Then it all made sense. The large rise of nails in the center was Jo's nose. The rounded shape the nails made off to the side were her cheeks and her eyes were made narrow by the nails.

"Teddy also said he painted the nails to look like me," Jo announced with a sigh of happiness.

"I wish I could see it," I whispered, dropping my hand.

"No m'dear," said Jo gingerly. A hand fumbled once again for mine and then interlaced our fingers. "We're special because we can feel it. Nail art is not somefing even I can do, but let me show you what us blind folk can." Jo led me away again, less vigorously, but she rounded corners and side stepped what I only could imagine were other sculptures and materials as if she knew exactly where everything was. She didn't even have a cane.

"Give 'er a feel," pressed Jo, giving me a nudge. I reached out and was surprised by the utter smoothness of the sculpture I felt underneath my fingertips. Waves and curves and detailed strokes in what I assumed was clay fed my nerves with awe. I could easily tell that this was a vase with a bear of some sort hanging over the edge. Each fur of the bear was tangible; from the tufts at the tops of its ears, to the sharp points of its claws, the bear felt real. A small smile took place at the bear's lips and I could feel the smooth surfaces of each tooth. I slid my hand out of Jo's and explored the bear with both hands, wanting to memorize each sharp edge.

"Seeing folks art is skewed by sight," began Jo, the calm in her voice lulling me away from the bear. "They can't get past how a fing looks. Us blind folk can't see so we focus on how a fing feels. Our world must be tangible. Art must be tangible."  I bit down on my lip as it began to quiver with emotion.

"Jo taught me that art should be able to be experienced by more than one sense." I could feel Teddy's warm, safe presence next to me and I leaned against him. His arm came around me in a hug and I could feel the weight in my chest lessening. "Whether that’s taste, touch, smell, or sound. Sight is not a necessity, Mo."  

I leaned forward and felt the shape of the bear once again. I to myself nodded and turned to face Jo, who didn't even know I was doing that. I fumbled for her small, rough hand and shook it the way she shook mine. "C-can you teach me how?"

"Yes m'dear," giggled Jo, shaking my hand back.  

Author's Note

Do events seem to flow well, or is it sort of choppy?

Reviews

[the_gak]

That's a beautiful story, told in a really gripping way. The only thing that bothered me was that Morrie calls her mother by name in the narration, but as mom in the dialogues. Other than that, I absolutely loved this story, and would love to read more of your work.