Side Effects May Vary

Side Effects May Vary

  Written by: Melody Hewson

  Copyright Melody Hewson 2012

  Jessica Lee was not addicted to Meth. She could stop any time she wanted to. She just didn’t want to. After all, she was still young yet, only twenty-three in fact, and in good health still, well, mostly good she supposed. If she could just get rid of that persistent cough that had developed a few weeks back she would be even better.

  She looked down at her hands, which were shaking slightly. They had been doing that for so long she never really even noticed anymore. In one hand, she held a pregnancy test, in the other, she held the box that had contained it. She wasn’t pregnant, of course. She couldn’t be. The nausea was simply from bad food, the leftovers had spoiled or something. She wasn’t pregnant.

  Except that she was. The instructions on the now-empty box were clear, and she had followed the instructions exactly. The solid blue line sat there like a testament in stone. Jessica sighed and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling numb. When she finally got the courage to open her eyes again, the dark blue line was still there. Still giving the same answer. Jessica was pregnant.

  It was two months before the new mother-to-be would finally admit to herself that she had an addiction she couldn’t control. A promise to stop “for the baby” had led to a string of “just one more”s that lay heavy on her conscience as she stared unseeing at the litter strewn floor, the needle dangling from the crook of her arm like garish jewelry. “Just one last time.” She muttered to herself, her head rolling back to rest against the faded and peeling wallpaper, which crinkled at her touch like the skin of a long dead animal. “After this, I am done! No more. I have to stop…for the baby.” Her mumbled rambling soothed her slightly, but it was no more than a band aid over a gaping wound. She knew she wouldn’t really be able to stop, not for the baby, not for herself. “Just this one last time.”

  *****

  “So as I was saying, Carol-Anne, this procedure is not guaranteed. It may restore your vision, or it may not. Now the experiments so far have shown very good results but…there haven’t been any tests done on a human yet.”

  Carol-Anne Lee nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Peters. But I am willing to take the risk.” She replied, unable to keep the note from her voice. “Even if it’s unsuccessful, all I want is the chance.”

  Dr. Peters gave a deep sigh, obviously unhappy as he looked at his patient. She had been coming to him for most of her life. He continued to look over the forty-two year old woman who sat on the padded leather chair across from him, remembering the little girl she had been.

  Carol-Anne had only been seven when Dr. Peters had first seen the scrawny little child, cradled in the arms of a nervous looking social worker. He had been informed over the phone prior to their arrival of the young girl’s situation. Her mother had been a well known drug addict, even during her pregnancy. While she often begged for money or free food in the name of her daughter, most of it went toward getting Jessica Lee her next fix.

  When she had been found dead from an overdose, no one knew what to do with the malnourished and unwashed toddler she left behind. Since Jessica had no known family, the child was immediately taken into foster care, and her first stop was to see a doctor. And Dr. Peters was not immediately sure what to make of the odd girl.

  “The neighbors said she doesn’t talk. And never looks at anyone when they talk.” The social worker had said apologetically, pausing a moment to push the girl’s seeking hand out of her face. “We think that she’s deaf.”

  Peters had shaken his head and reached out his arms, carefully taking the small child. Almost immediately, a tiny hand was at his face, but he remained still, closing his eyes and letting the fingers crawl across his features for several seconds before falling away. “She’s not deaf.” He finally spoke up. “She can hear us perfectly fine. Do you see how she tilts her head when someone speaks? The girl is blind.”

  From that day forward, Peters had been Carol-Anne’s sole doctor, seeing her at least twice a year, but often more as she developed the usual childhood maladies. And now, here she was, almost thirty-six years later. Her hair was still a dull, mouse brown, but now it was streaked with grey. Her vibrant blue eyes stared in random directions, seeing nothing. Peters wondered what she would do when he finally retired in the next year.

  “Very well, then.” Dr. Peters finally said aloud. “I will contact Fredrickson tonight and let him know you want to set up an appointment.”

  Carol-Anne nodded, her lips curling faintly in her version of a smile. Peters had never seen her show more than that faint ghost of a curl. “Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

  “Of course, Carol-Anne. You know I’m always willing to help out my favorite patient. I just…” He paused, his own beard-covered mouth pulling downward in a worried frown. “I just hate for you to get your hopes up just for you to be let down again.”

  “I understand.” She replied softly, reaching out to pat the old doctor’s hand gently. “And I really appreciate that too. But even if this operation is nothing more than yet another disappointment, at least I won’t regret never giving it a try.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right as usual.” Peters conceded. “Very well. I look forward to hearing about it when you get back then.”

  Carol-Anne stood up and unfolded the long aluminum cane that she used to guide herself. “And I look forward to seeing you when I get back.” She replied before making her way out of the office.

  All along her walk home, Carol-Anne’s mind was a million miles away, her body left on auto pilot to walk the familiar path home. More than anything, she wondered what colors would be like. She knew the words for them already. Green as grass, blue as sky, black as night, yellow as the sun, but the words alone were meaningless.

  She knew what things felt like, knew that grass was smooth, knew that the sun was warm, but she had been told countless times growing up that to see was so much different. And so much better. She would give anything to see the world like everyone else she knew, it sounded so wonderful.

  And in just a matter of days, she just might be able to.

  That night, Carol-Anne was far too excited to sleep. She knew she should get some sleep, for in the morning she would be meeting the man that would be performing the operation to fix whatever was wrong with her so that she could see, but the idea was far too exhilarating, so she would just say in bed tossing and turning all night.

  She tried to read to calm herself, but she found that she simply could not focus. She had to keep running her fingers over the same tiny bumps over and over, yet still she could not comprehend what they told her. Her mind kept drifting off as she tried to imagine what various colors looked like in her otherwise dark world.

  Minute by minute and hour by hour, the night slipped away while she sat in her reading chair, until finally the first, soft chirps of a bird drifted in through the closed window, telling her that morning had come.

  As she rose to her feet and walked to the window, stretching out a hand to rest against the cool glass, Carol-Anne wondered what it would be like to see a sunrise.