The pier boasts small shops, games, food stands, and the Ferris Wheel. It stretches up, up, up into the sky overlooking the ocean.
I’ve been on it a few times, and each time I swear is better than the last. I feel free up there, like a bird ready to soar across the sky into new horizons.
When I’m up there, I can’t think, I only exist in the moment.
“Anyone want to play?” Spencer asks, stopping at one of the games. It’s one you toss a basketball and try to score as many points as you can, beating the person next to you.
“I will,” Harlow volunteers when neither Meredith or I say anything.
He hands some money to the man working the booth and they both step up.
When it dings, they start throwing the balls into the basket.
Harlow is surprisingly good at it, and in the end beats Spencer by twenty solid points.
She accepts her giant blue stuffed gorilla with a beaming smile.
Spencer can’t help but laugh. “Good game.”
“I wanted the gorilla.” She shrugs. “Or I would have gone easy on you.”
He waves his hand and grins. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
Harlow clutches her gorilla under her arm and we move on to another booth. This one, you shoot water guns at a target.
“I’ll meet back up with you guys,” I say, spotting my favorite store tucked around the corner.
“Are you sure?” Harlow asks.
“Yeah, I won’t be long,” I assure her.
I leave them behind and step into the store. It’s tiny, with every surface covered in some sort of jewelry made from seashells. From the ceiling, kites made from paper meant for decoration swing merrily. Interspersed throughout the shop are sketches and paintings by local artists.
“Ms. Willa,” chimes Julio upon hearing me.
“Julio.” I beam back at him.
I met Julio on a very bad day shortly after my diagnosis. My friends had brought me here, it was supposed to be fun, but I found many of their comments to be insensitive instead of understanding. I’d dashed in here to get away, crying my eyes out. Julio had asked me why I was crying and, after a bit of hesitation, I told him.
He held me while I cried, like a grandfather would their grandchild, and told me with total certainty, “This is one bridge of many you will cross in your life m’dear. But if you don’t cross it, you don’t get to the next one, and you have to because good lies there—just like some good lies here too. There’s good and bad in everything, it’s up to us to determine what we make of it. Like me? I went blind at twelve years old. I miss seeing the sun, and my parents’ faces—I’ll never see my own children’s faces. But if I hadn’t gone blind, I would’ve never met my wife—she saved me when I nearly walked into traffic. I wouldn’t take this back if it meant I never met her. She not only saved my life, she completed my soul.”
“How is my favorite little flower?”
“I’m doing okay.” I touch my finger to a bracelet with turquoise beads and shells.
He clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t sound too convincing.”
I smile, though he can’t see. “You know too much.”
“Ah.” He taps his forehead. “God might’ve taken my sight from me, but he gave me much more than I had before, and it’s the ability to hear emotions. I don’t have to see your face to know you’re sad. Now, tell me, what is it?”
I sigh and turn to him. He’s seated in a chair that hangs from the ceiling and sways as he moves. His gray hair is cut short and appears almost white next to his dark skin. His eyes stare beyond me, unseeing. In his lap his hands are clasped, his thumbs rubbing back and forth against each other.
I move in front of him and sit down on the floor, crossing my legs.
“Lots of things, Julio. Sometimes this is easy to deal with, and sometimes it’s freaking hard. I feel like I’m never going to get a kidney, and I feel horrible for wishing for one, because that means I’m wishing for someone to die so I can live, and what kind of person does that make me?”
“That’s quite the conundrum.” He swings lazily in the chair. “But you do not want someone to die.”