Once outside the room, she sighed and looked at her hands, which were shaking.
The overhead fluorescent lights hurt her eyes, and the one with the corneal transplant watered, so she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes to rest them. She knew stress made her vision worse, and she was up to her neck in stress now, resulting in what she called the foggies, making visibility through the Fuchs’ eye virtually impossible.
Despite the doctor’s words of encouragement, she didn’t feel reassured. Whatever the problem was, she felt it went much deeper.
The loss of vision had been so gradual that she hadn’t even realised she had a problem until she ran a red light and almost collided with a lorry. That had been the wake up call she needed. Before that, she assumed the fuzziness was dirty windscreens, scratched lenses on the cameras and any other number of excuses to divert attention from her own failing sight. Before the transplant, she had mistaken shadows for actual objects (had once mistaken a shadow in the road for a person and had shouted at them to get out of the way before they were run over), but this, this was different. Now she was seeing shadows where there shouldn’t be any.
But it wasn’t just the shadows. It was the feeling that went with them. The feeling of something… malignant. She just couldn’t explain it.
Compelled by the need to return home to rest, she opened her eyes and made her way along the corridor. The sight through her Fuchs’ eye was now like trying to see through Vaseline smeared eyeglasses, making her rely on her transplanted cornea, which wasn’t much better at the moment.
People passing by looked more blurry by the second, ethereal, as though viewed through a heat haze. The effect induced a headache that throbbed at her temples.
Joanna now knew how Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz felt: There’s no place like home – only she would add, ‘and the sooner, the better’.
“Miss Raines!”
Joanna saw a misshapen figure approaching. Despite her sight, she recognised the lumbering behemoth by the voice alone: Lincoln Parker.
Terror infiltrated every pore of her body. Joanna didn’t know why, but she had to get away. Without waiting to see whether shadows enveloped the man, she ran, ignoring the shouts and curses of those she bumped into in her haste to flee.
There’s no place like…
CHAPTER 8
Home.
Joanna pushed the bolt across and leaned against her front door. Perspiration coated her body, making her feel uncomfortable; her clothes a portable sweatbox. She peeled her t-shirt away from her skin and wafted the material.
She didn’t know what was going on anymore, and had progressed past the point of thinking she was crazy, to knowing she was. No reassurances to the contrary could convince her otherwise. People didn’t harbour shadow forms. They just didn’t.
But why weren’t they visible all the time? And why didn’t everyone have them?
It didn’t make any sense.
Needing both a change of clothes and some ointment for her eye, she stood up straight to walk towards the bedroom when someone knocked on the door.
Joanna’s heart leapt into her throat and her blood ran cold. She backed away from the door, heart beating fast. Even this was crazy, because she didn’t know what she was afraid of, but she couldn’t get the notion out of her head that Lincoln had followed her home for some reason.
“Jo, you in there? Wakey, wakey, rise and shine.”
All at once, Joanna’s fears subsided and she relaxed a little. She undid the lock and opened the door.
“Nina, am I glad to see you,” she said, although ‘see’ wasn’t the optimum word as her vision had deteriorated to the point where she couldn’t see anything clearly any more.
“You’ll never guess what I’ve hea - Jo, you look dreadful,” Nina said as she entered the room.
“Well you know how to cheer someone up.” Joanna forced a smile. Nina had been her best friend through university where they shared a room in the halls of residence. They had gelled straight away, having similar interests and styles, and once they started talking, it took a lot to shut them up. “Just give me a minute. I’ve got to get some drops in before my eyeballs explode.”
“You need a hand?”
“No, I’m fine. You just put the kettle on. I’ve only just gotten in myself.” Nina walked across the room, and Joanna locked the door.
“You expecting me to try and make a break for it?” Nina asked.
“No, it’s… It’s a long story.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Just give me a minute.”
Joanna made her way to the bathroom where she kept all her medicines. For the transplanted cornea, she had antibiotic eye drops to prevent infection and steroid eye drops to control inflammation and prevent transplant rejection. And for the Fuchs’ eye, Muro ointment that drew moisture out of the cornea, decreasing swelling, but which burnt like a bitch for a while.
After administering the drops, she waited for her eyes to stop burning, and then still blinking, returned to the living room where Nina sat nursing a cup of tea.
“Yours‘ll be cold by now,” Nina said.
“The way you make a brew, it’s probably better cold. Scaring it with a teabag doesn’t a cup of tea make.”
Nina patted the two-seater settee beside her and Joanna sat down.
“I’ll ignore that. Now are you going to tell me what’s up?”
Joanna gulped her tea, took a moment to gather her thoughts, then told her friend everything that had happened. When she finished, she lowered her head and gazed at the black and white rug on the threadbare carpet to hide her embarrassment.
Nina put her arm around Joanna’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re the sanest person I know.”
Joanna couldn’t help but smile. “That says a lot coming from someone who thought McFly was something you ordered from McDonald’s.”
“Well excuse me. I can’t help it if I’m not into pop rock.”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to go up to the counter and ask for one.” Joanna laughed.
“I wouldn’t have if certain people didn’t ask me to.”
“I couldn’t resist.”
“Hmm. Talk about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer.”
Tears of laughter rolled down Joanna’s cheeks.
“Well I’m glad to see that my former humiliation has cheered you up,” she said in mock indignation. “Now like I said, you’re the sanest person I know.”
“Thanks. I feel a lot better now.” And in a way, she did, laughter the perfect cure for her malaise.
“At the end of the day, it’s going to be something perfectly rational.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Great, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted.”
Before Joanna could reply, Nina’s mobile phone rang with a thumping dance tune that had Nina playing at an imaginary mixing desk with her hands before she withdrew the phone from her bag.
“Maxine, what’s up?” She chewed her lip; nodded her head. “No problem. Be there in twenty.” After disconnecting the call, she turned to Joanna. “Sorry babe, got to shoot through. Max wants some help with her wedding plans. God knows why she’s going through with it. That arsehole Ricky sleeps around more than a prostitute.”
“I guess it’s her life, but there’s no way I’d put up with it.”
“Tell me about it. It’s not as if he’s even that good looking.”
“Perhaps she likes slap heads with potbellies.”
Both girls laughed.
“Seriously though Jo, you’ve got nothing to worry about. At least you’re not marrying Ricky. If you ask me, it’s Max who needs her head looked at.”
Joanna laughed again and then stood to walk Nina to the door.
“You get worried about anything, just give me a call,” Nina said before giving Jo a hug.