Good Eye

“It’s time to go back in.” Tracey mumbles as she rises from her uncomfortable seat in the waiting room.

I pretend not to hear her, allowing my head to rest on my hands as I stare at the white linoleum tiles under my feet. Silence doesn’t fool her. She wraps slender fingers around my arm, pulls me from my chair, and guides me toward the long hallway.

“Stop that.” I pull free, ignoring the scratches her nails leave on my arm as I step back toward the waiting room.

“You have to come say goodbye to her, Viv. She’s our grandmother.”

“But…” My lips purse as I try to sort through my thoughts.

She reaches for me again, placing her hands gently on shoulders. “Just look at her hands. That is what I always do.”

“I can’t. I always look up.”

She offers me a reassuring smile. “…and then you look away and she laughs.”

One hand slides down my arm to take my hand. This time, I don’t resist as she pulls me along the corridor. I try not to focus on the sounds of labored breathing coming from most of the rooms we pass. I focus on the tiles underfoot, hoping they will help me forget where we are. My nostrils flare as the aroma of disinfectant grows stronger. I raise my free hand to diffuse the smell. I allow my hand to fall at my side as I follow my sister into an open door to our left.

“My girls.” A hoarse whisper greets us.

“Hello, grandma.” We answer in unison as our hands clutch each other more tightly.

My eyes wander along the pink fleece blanket that covers her emaciated legs. Equally thin arms rest on the outside of the blanket. Fingers twisted by arthritis into claws tremble as she beckons us closer.

“I love my girls.” Her thin, pale lips stumble over the words before forming a smile.

My eyes wander from her lips to her eyes for only a second. The left eye focuses on my face, clear and blue, while the right floats in a milky cloud. Though I know I should be used to seeing this blind orb, my stomach clenches and twists within me. She doesn’t notice or ignores my reaction, patting the edge of the bed.

“Come closer.” As we obey she continues to whisper. “I’m glad you love me. I’m glad you have each other.”

“We do love you.” My sister speaks for both of us as tears choke back my own words.

“I will always love you, my girls. You must always love each other.” Her voice tapers off at the end of her plea and my eyes seek out her face.

My grandmother’s eyes close one last time. With parchment eyelids between me and the windows to her soul, I am finally able to look directly at her serene face. A single tear slips from my eye as my sister enfolds me in her arms.