This Is What It Is To Go Blind
by Mimi Albert
She stands at the bus stop and tries to be patient while she waits for it to come. Near her are a mother and two kids, an active boy who makes a lot of noise and a stout little girl in a white pinafore. But when she looks at the little girl again she sees that the child has no head. For a minute she thinks she’s going to fall. Then she realizes that it’s a short, white fire hydrant that she’s looking at. Not a little girl in a pinafore. Not at all.
On the bus a man sits down beside her. “You were looking so hard at the street,” he says.“What were you looking for?”
“I was waiting for the bus to come,” she answers. “The thing is, I wasn’t looking for anything. I was just waiting.”.
“Can you see this?” the man says. He pulls something out of his pocket. She turns her head away.
What she can see is that it’s a beautiful day. Through the bus window she notices a flock of white birds swooping and gliding above the lake. When she looks again she sees they are not really birds, they are only reflections of the sun against the glass.
“Can you see this?” the man asks again. She wants to get up but she can’t without making him move. She sits quietly and watches the streets float past her in a smoky haze.
“No,” she says. The man still waits. Perhaps he watches her. She doesn’t want to turn to find out. He smells of garlic and cigars, and his hands are invisible, but to leave her seat she would have to stumble over his knees. She would have to feel with her cane to climb over his sitting body and make her way into the aisle. In the aisle there are people standing behind all the seats, holding onto the overhead railings, smelling of garlic and tobacco and perfume and sweat. She stays where she is. Through the window she can see a few shreds of sunset in a white placid sky. Perhaps above them there are really white waterbirds flying, but to her they are invisible.
“I can’t see anything,” she says.