And just like that, we fall into casual conversation; me, sitting bewildered in my hospital bed, never quite getting over the fact that I’m speaking with a person who could easily fit in the palm of my hand, and her, confident and enthusiastic, making herself right at home on my side table. We talk about the classes we used to attend and where we would go for fun. She dives into her previous interests, involving a lot of crafty and rather old-fashioned hobbies like quilting and embroidery. I’m surprised to hear about how much time she seemed to spend on her own, considering how extroverted she’s coming off.
“Do you remember that nook under the stairs at the big study hall?” she asks, “Where they put all those cushions and stuff? I practically lived down there between semesters, I’d just bring my knitting needles and watch movies on my phone.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve gone under there before. It was cozy, I remember that spot being really warm during the winter.”
“Yes, exactly! Whoa, I wonder if we ever ran into each other. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Oh, and then my other favorite place to go was at that horse statue fountain, whenever it was nice out. Actually, this one time, a friend of mine got drunk and ended up falling in–”
Naomi sure talks a lot. But I don’t mind it. At no point do I feel like I’m forcing myself to pay attention. I’m becoming more relaxed by the minute, and I frankly can’t remember the last time I’ve hit it off like this with a stranger. She goes on to tell me about how she was also working at a bookstore during college, and she regales me with stories about her colorful cast of coworkers.
“That’s because Thomas was a huge Trekkie,” she says to conclude an anecdote before avidly adding, “Oh, there’s a question - you more of a Star Wars or Star Trek kind of guy?”
“Hmm. I don’t know if I can pick, I like them both for different reasons… I actually might be more of a Firefly kind of guy, that’s what I get nostalgic for.”
Naomi completely lights up this. “Ohh nice, that’s a deeper cut! I really like space stuff, most of what I’ve been reading lately is that. I don’t suppose you’re an Andy Weir fan?”
“Of course! I think he might be my favorite author right now.”
“Dude, same here!!”
And so we discover a mutual interest in science fiction, and I think if we wanted to we could talk for hours about that alone. She gets excited about the fact that I too listen to audiobooks - neither one of us really bothers with physical books due to our corresponding health conditions. She’s already promising that she’ll come back to visit me tomorrow and bring me a list of book recommendations.
“I do really miss the feel of real paper though,” she sighs. “I’d be okay walking all over a book in order to read it, I just don’t have the space for it. Do you read braille?”
I bristle slightly at the question, feeling a bit caught unawares. “I don’t,” I admit, “I lost my vision relatively recently, so…”
She balks at this. “Oh shit! I didn’t realize that, I thought you were born with it! What the hell happened?”
Again with the bluntness. It’s interesting - I’ve gotten so used to people acting like they’re walking on eggshells around me, but Naomi doesn’t seem to hesitate in stomping all over said eggshells. Maybe because she’s too light to be breaking them.
But this is not a fun subject, and I want to move on as quickly as possible. “Erm, it was about half a year ago… I got sick with what seemed like your run-of-the-mill virus, but it ended up causing swelling in my brain, which put pressure on the optic nerve and… yeah.”
“Damn, Cameron. And this just happened to you… Hell, I’ve been tiny for longer than you’ve been blind. That’s gotta be rough.”
“It’s fine. So, uh, what got you into sci-fi in the first place then?”
Even though I’m quick to move away from the subject, I find that I’m not at all annoyed or resentful that she brought it up to begin with. Honestly, talking with her like this, I find myself opening up more and more despite all of my usual tendencies. Perhaps it’s just because her presence is so unintimidating, in more ways than one.
Later on I mention my interest in cooking from back when I was a kid and how it led to a passion in nutrition, and then she wants to hear all about it, frequently interrupting me with questions. She gives me tips on which meals to request from the hospital on which days, depending on who’s working in the kitchen. And she tells me about some of her favorite foods too.
“A what?” I say, trying to bite back my laughter, “A tapioca granule?”
“Yeah! You know, those little pearls that are in the pudding cups? Seriously, they’re so nice to chew on at this size, it’s a texture thing. And you can’t find all that many dessert options in a hospital so…”
“Fair enough. I’ll take your word for it.”
Naomi reminds me of my cousin Danni. I haven’t seen her in years since she lives halfway across the world, but we were close as kids. She’s a bit brash and had a tendency to overstay her welcome, but she’s the kind of person who makes you feel like you’re the most interesting person in the world, even when you don’t have much to say. This current conversation feels weirdly nostalgic as a result.
“Yeah, I guess it makes sense that you get pretty bored,” I say sympathetically after she’s finished another little rant. “I’m guessing you don’t have a miniature computer or anything?”
“Nope, just my phone, as cumbersome as it is to use. I really can’t have many forms of entertainment here, just the couple of things that fit in the plastic shoebox I call home… They usually just shove my habitat into whichever room has the most space at any given time. It’s been so crowded here lately… You’re lucky you have your own room. Do you know how long you’ll be staying?”
“It depends,” I sigh, suppressing a wince from the way I readjust my weight. “Hopefully just a couple of days. The injury isn’t that bad, but they were worried about sepsis at first so they want to monitor me for a bit…”
“Oh, okay,” Naomi says with a nod. She’s looking downward as she idly kneads at her calves, and her tone’s tinged with a heaviness I can’t quite identify. But before I can consider prying into it, she lets out a happy exhale as she then stretches her legs out long and beams up at me. “By the way. Can I just say how nice it is to not have to yell so much? I feel like I can almost just talk normally with you and you can still hear me.”
“Hmm,” I muse with a smile, “I guess your voice is a little quiet? Not bad though, I can hear it just fine. I’ve heard about how when you’re missing one sense, the others work harder to make up for it. Maybe that’s what’s going on. How about me, am I being too loud or anything?”
“Nope! You’re juuuust right.”
“Okay. Good.”
“So, like…” My tiny guest pauses as she formulates her next sentence, a little hesitant to pry this time since I clearly tend to dodge the medical questions. “What exactly do you, like… see? Not that I don’t believe you telling me that you’re blind, but you keep looking right at me, so it makes me curious…?”
For a moment I mull this over. It can be tricky to describe my reality to someone who hasn’t experienced it, so I don’t usually bother trying with strangers, I just give a couple-words answer and move on. But I decide to go ahead and do my best to describe it to her.
“So, in general…” I start, slow and thoughtful, “most of my vision is pretty dark and blurry, and it’s all covered in what I always describe as static. ‘Visual snow’ is what it’s called. And then there’s this one small tunnel.” I hold a hand out a foot in front of my face to make a circle with my finger and thumb, lining it up with what I can make out of Naomi’s figure. “And it’s almost like a hole in the darkness. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot more clear, so I can still make out some details.” I pause, my eyes narrowing with my smirk as I observe Naomi for a beat longer before dropping my hand. “Like right now I can tell that you keep glancing over somewhere… Everything alright?”
Her wandering gaze suddenly snaps back to me, looking startled and a bit sheepish. “Oh, yes! Sorry, I’m paying attention, I’m just keeping an eye on the clock. I’ve still got time plenty of time though.”
I instinctively reach to the side of my leg to find my phone that’s sitting in the bed with me. It’s on maximum brightness, and I hold it up closer to my face to take a look at the time too. We’ve been chatting for well over an hour. It’ll still be a little while until a nurse comes in to check my vitals again, but I wonder if that’s what Naomi is worrying about.
“Hey Cameron,” she says, reclaiming my attention. I set my phone back down before quickly finding her small form again. She cants her head as she peers up at me. “Are you able to walk around with your injury?”
I don’t even mind the prying at all anymore. “Yeah, I can. In fact I should be practicing more of that, so they tell me… Why? Do you need me to get you anything?”
“Nah, not yet. But I could use a ride in about half an hour.”
This makes me stop cold. “U-um… Excuse me?” I mutter.
“If you don’t mind carrying me back to my room then, that would be great,” she says lightly. Then her brow creases as she sees the look on my face, and immediately she’s switching to a reassuring tone. “I know it’s a little weird at first, but from what people tell me you get used to it real fast. It’ll be no biggie, I promise.”
I can feel my heart rate picking up. Suddenly the whimsical and almost amusing idea of her sitting in my hand is replaced by the sobering, heavy reality that such a thing would entail. I can hardly get myself around, especially post injury. The thought of clumsily picking her up, of accidentally dropping her, of somehow crushing any bit of her… It’s enough to make me immediately sick to my stomach.
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Naomi. I’m blind.”
She frowns, tilting her head to the side again. “But not completely, right? You can see enough to get around?”
“But– that’s not the problem, I just– I don’t know how–”
“Oh, and I can help you walk, I can tell you which way to go!” she cuts in with a nervous giggle, “I can be like a seeing-eye dog.”
I let out a quiet breath as I don’t take the bait. My shoulders tense and I give her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but… I’d rather not.”
She claps her hands together in front of her face, grimacing as she begs, “Please? I can’t open doors on my own. And I’ll get in trouble again if the nurses find me here…”
I’m starting to feel a little annoyed. It’s not like I had a say in her coming in here, and now I feel obligated to help sneak her back out.
“I can go open the doors for you,” I suggest, “You climbed up there - you can get down, right?”
Naomi is looking increasingly uneasy as she realizes how much I’m not budging in my conviction. She scrambles to respond, “Uhhh, I jumped from a bit higher up on the bed, I’m not sure I can make it going the other direction…” She gives me another pleading look. “I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s just four doors down from you. You get your walking practice in that way?”
I hate how awkward this is. We’ve just met each other, we’ve been getting along so well, and now we’re already getting caught up in an argument.
I shake my head. “I would still rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because… because that feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”
She breaks into a smile, although her tone is sounding a little desperate. “It’s not! You’ll be fine, I’ve been carried by way less capable people than you. You don’t have to worry–”
I interrupt. “How about… Can you just tell me how I can move stuff around to make it easier for you to climb down?”
Naomi has started fidgeting, looking at me with such intensity that it’s making my stomach churn. Meekly she asks, “Is it like… a sensory thing? You don’t like being touched?”
I sigh audibly, and I think my frustration is becoming quite apparent. “No, it’s not. It’s a safety thing. I have terrible depth perception, and if I bump into a wall or something…”
I trail off as I watch the miniature girl on the table practically writhing, her hands now restlessly massaging into the tops of her legs. “Um,” she squeaks, and then closes her eyes with a heavy exhale. “Okay… I have a confession.”
Starting to feel a creeping sense of dread, I raise a questioning eyebrow but don’t say anything.
“The truth is that, um… I think I might have pulled something in my leg when I… fell down…”
I make a choking sound, as if the air in my lungs has suddenly gone solid. She’s talking about the moment I knocked her over. Come to think of it… It has seemed like she’s been stretching her legs out this entire time.
Fuck. I did this.
Naomi starts waving her hands fervently and exclaims, “I’m fine, it’s really not that bad, I promise! I just probably should take it easy for a bit if I don’t want to actually injure it…”
I throw my hands out in disbelief, ignoring the pain of the tube in my arm as I blurt out, “See?? I’ve already hurt you! This is a bad idea!”
“No, no, that time was entirely my fault!” she insists, “You didn’t know I was here. It’ll be different this time. I’ll talk you through it, we can take it one step at a time. Here, let’s practice now - can you put your hand next to me?”
I don’t. My breath is coming in short as my stomach continues to churn, as if something inside of me is trying to claw its way out. I let myself lay back against the upright bed just behind me, giving my desperate acquaintance a miserable look.
“I’m really, really uncomfortable with this, Naomi,” I say quietly.
“But why?” she protests stubbornly.
“I just am.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t even try to–”
“Because I’m a total fuck up!” I snap, my voice raising up a notch as my gaze lowers in turn. “I always am. Ever since I’ve lost my vision I’ve messed up everything I do!”
She falls into silence, and although I can’t look at her anymore, I also can’t stop the words from pouring out of me.
“I’m incapable of doing anything on my own. I’m always covered in bruises from knocking into stuff. It took me forever to learn how to get around my own room. I can’t make my own food, if I try to help with chores I end up breaking something. I can’t even go outside without being literally handheld by my own mother like a fucking child. She has to house me and pay for everything, and I can’t even contribute, all I do is stress her out and stress out everyone around me.”
I should stop, I need to stop talking, but… inertia.
“Even getting sick in the first place,” I groan, “That was my own damn fault. I knew my friend had a cold and I insisted on going to see him, and not only did I almost die, I lost most of my sight over it. You can imagine how I made my friend feel after that… Even all the doctors I’ve been seeing are so done with me, they’ve got other problems to worry about. All these anomalies cropping up and I just have a normal condition, so now I just feel like I’ve gotten lost in the shuffle and won’t ever get out of it.
“I’m only even in the hospital right now because I got so tired of it, so sick of feeling like I can’t do anything for myself and being a burden to everyone I know. All I wanted to do was go to the local corner store on my own… I didn’t tell my mom because I knew she’d fret over it, I just left and I thought I was doing okay, I knew the way to go by heart and I had my cane and I thought I saw that the light was red for the cars, but I fucked up again, and now my mom has to deal with even more medical bills and worrying about her stupid son who she’s always going to need to take care of because I’m a pathetic piece of shit.”
I’m out of breath now, dizzy from the unexpected tirade. For a second I think I might start crying, but I choke the tears back down, if for no other reason than to not feel like a child yet again. I keep my face downcast but turn my eyes back up to Naomi. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line and she’s holding very still.
“I don’t want to fuck this up too,” I murmur, hoping it’s not already too late for that. “So it’s probably better if I keep my distance, okay?”
There’s a moment of silence as we’re both reeling from the fact that I’ve strung more words together in under a minute than I usually do in ten. I wasn’t yelling or anything, but the emotional timbre of my voice during all that must have been jarring too.
But then, to my surprise, Naomi smiles a little. At least, that’s what I see her mouth doing at first. I anticipate she might be about to try and diffuse the situation the same way everyone else does, trying to reassure me or spin this in a positive way somehow. But the longer I look her in the eye, the more I realize that her smile is a pained one. A purely empathetic one.
“That sucks, Cameron,” she says simply with a nod of her head. “That really fucking sucks.”
And now that it’s all out of me, leaving me feeling empty, I’m hit by a pang of shame, and not just because of the fact that I lost my composure. Just look who I’m talking to. What right do I have to complain to her?
I mutter in protest, “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been throu–”
“Stop,” she says firmly, “You don’t need to downplay it. I don’t want to be your rival here. Just your friend.”
A girl of many words, and yet she only needs a few of them to stop me in my tracks. And now the catharsis is settling. Without quite realizing it, I had been holding all of that in for a long time. Always regretting, always wishing that none of this has happened to me, feeling alone and ashamed and so goddamned hopeless.
But now, for the first time in the past six long months, I finally truly feel seen. My friends, my family… my mom… They try. They really do, and I should be thankful that I have people who care about me, even when I feel like I don’t deserve it. But this is different. Naomi isn’t trying to fix anything. She’s not just trying to reassure me that everything will be okay… And I didn’t realize how much I needed that.
For a few moments we’re in silence as she patiently waits for me to pull myself back together. I curse under my breath as despite myself there’s moisture gathering in my eyes. I rub away at it with the heel of my hand, forcing a self conscious chuckle.
“How do you do it?” I ask with a still-unsteady voice. “How are you so, like… cheerful? It’s like your condition doesn’t even bother you.”
She laughs, and I find comfort in the way her face lights up again. “You’ve known me for less than a day. You didn’t see me six months ago. I promise you, I was less than cheerful.”
And I laugh too, at my own dumb comment. “Right…”
Naomi’s expression softens and she waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about all this. We can call the nurses to take me back to my room, I’m not going to pressure you into anything. But… if it’s okay, do you think you could still… give me your hand? You really look like you could use a hug right now.”
My shoulders droop with my wistful exhale. I do wish that was possible. I’m not even sure what she means by that exactly… I’m suddenly reminded of Danni again, of when we were younger, her arms outstretched towards me if something ever went wrong. She gave the best hugs.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” I respond softly, almost as if talking to myself.
I notice the shrunken girl’s figure is now sliding backwards along the tabletop, making me straighten up as her movement catches my attention. “Here,” she says, “I’ll scoot back. There’s plenty of space.”
I hesitate a few seconds longer as I imagine myself reaching out and bumping the table, or whacking into her again. It really shouldn’t happen if I’m careful… If I just take it slow…
My hand trembles slightly as I extend my arm. I decide to touch the underside of the table, so it doesn’t matter how far back I go, and then I trail my fingertips back towards me until I reach the edge of the wood. I glance to Naomi, to where her too-small knees are resting, as if trying to manifest better depth perception out of pure will. With the hope that I don’t look too intimidating from her perspective, I creep my fingers onto the top of the table, sliding them forward ever so slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the gap that I’m closing.
I gasp quietly and freeze in place at the feeling of warm, tiny hands on my index finger. “I’m here,” Naomi soothes, having suddenly reached out to meet me.
I focus on her face again, anchoring myself into the present moment. Her touch sends a not-unpleasant shiver up my spine and truly hammers in the reality of what she is. I had pet hamsters as a kid, and I’m somewhat reminded of the sensation of their little paws, but the fact that she’s human, that she’s a person just like I am, makes this moment feel incredibly distinct. Her dainty fingers are like a feather’s kiss against my skin, but there’s also a surprising strength there as she leans forward and fully wraps her arms around the digit, the miniscule bump of her chin resting against a finger joint.
“Not too bad, right?” she asks as she beams up at me.
Downright adorable is what it is.
At first all I can do is hold incredibly still, just letting her embrace me in the only way she’s able. I’m hit with a pang of sadness as she closes her eyes and tugs at my hand to further envelop my finger into her grip. I have a feeling that, even before she lost her height, hugging might have been the main way she showed affection. I think this gesture is just as much for her as it is for me.
With a deep breath I close my eyes too, turning this into a purely tactile experience. I want to have a better understanding of her miniature form in a 3D space, and so I fall into my habit of “seeing” with my hands. Keeping my index in place, I slide the rest of my fingers forward, and my middle finger brushes against Naomi’s back.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to get a general sense…” I mutter, self conscious about the fact that this might unintentionally be a bit intimate.
“You’re good,” she says as I feel her chin lift back up.
I slide my finger around ever so gently against the smooth fabric of her shirt, across the small of her back, up along the subtle bump of her spine until I feel her shoulders. I can sense how alive she is at every moment, from the heat of her body to each little breath that she takes. She giggles as I reach the top of her head, lightly mussing up her hair in the process.
With a smile I open my eyes again and relent my exploration, pulling away until we’re back to just my forefinger being our one point of contact. Naomi’s staring at me intensely as she grips me. She’s got a very pointed look in her eyes.
Urgh. I know exactly what she’s thinking.
“You’re not giving up, are you?” I whisper.
She smirks playfully. “You catch on fast.”
I’m still very anxious at the thought of trying to lift her off the table. But after everything else my resolve is wavering.
“You’re absolutely sure?” I urge, “You seriously want to take this risk?”
“I truly think you’re more capable than you realize… You might just need to prove it to yourself.” Naomi releases her now-near-death grip on me and sits back on her heels. “Again, nothing you’re not comfortable with but… we can just try baby steps? And if it’s ever too much, we stop.”
I blow out one long exhale, as if releasing any pent-up steam that’s left. And at long last I relent. “Alright. Talk me through it.”