an outstanding swimmer, and had been on the swimming team all through high school, although she couldn’t compete anymore now that she was in college. But she was greatly loved at the school where she had been for so long. The younger students looked up to her, and the teachers were very kind to her. Abby, the monitor who lived with her, had been assigned to Salima for five years, now they were best friends. Abby was thirty-six years old, but living in the protected environment of the womblike school, she still acted and looked like a young girl. She wore pigtails most of the time, and she adored Salima.
Blaise stopped her car in the little parking area nearby, and walked down the well-tended path to the cottage. She could hearSalima’s voice when she reached the door. She was singing, and the door was open, as Blaise quietly walked in, and saw Salima with her back to her in the living room. She and Abby were laughing at something while Salima tried to sing and finally collapsed, laughing, on the couch. She still hadn’t heard anyone come in, and Blaise took three steps across the old beams of the floor in the front hall, and the moment she did, Salima’s head turned.
“Mom?” She knew her step anywhere, and always recognized it the moment Blaise walked in. “Mom!” she said then, sure of it, and dashed across the living room to the hall, as Blaise smiled widely at her and held out her arms, knowing Salima would be in them in seconds.
“I missed you too much. I had to come up today,” Blaise said, as Salima threw herself into her mother’s arms and nearly knocked her down, and then spun her around. Abby watched them with a warm smile, and Blaise waved at her with a free hand. Salima looked as beautiful as ever, with features identical to her mother’s, down to the cleft chin. The only difference was her dark brown hair, which she wore long. She turned her face toward her mother’s, and felt her face. She felt the tears Blaise always shed when she first saw her. “You’re crying! Have I gotten uglier since last time?” Salima teased.
“Totally. It makes me cry just looking at you,” Blaise said with a smile.
“Then I’m glad I don’t have to see it,” Salima said, joking with her, as they walked into the living room together, with Blaise’s arm around her waist as Salima leaned close to her, and then floppeddown on the couch. She knew exactly where things were. Everything in the cottage was familiar to her, and she had no trouble getting around. She was blind.
She had been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when she was three years old, which had been the heartbreak of Blaise’s life. Her perfect baby had a severe case of juvenile diabetes, which could only be treated with insulin. And at first Salima had cried at every shot, and prick of her finger to check her insulin levels. They had eventually gotten her a pump, but she still had to be closely monitored. The pump kept her insulin levels at safe ranges for her, delivering the insulin over twenty-four hours through a catheter under the skin. And they clipped the pump itself to the waistband of her skirt or jeans. It had always worked well for her.
Her eyes had been affected by the time she was six, which they had been told was unusually early. She was too young to lose her sight, the doctors had assured Harry and Blaise. When she was seven, she could still see partially, when her retinas detached, and by eight she was fully blind. They had tried to keep her at home, but Harry lived in Los Angeles, and Blaise traveled all the time. She didn’t trust the caretakers they had with her, she was never sure they were monitoring her properly. And Blaise had had to face the decision of giving up her career to take care of Salima full time, or place her in a school for the blind where they were better equipped to supervise her, monitor her medically, and keep her safe. Her diabetes had to be carefully managed. There was a full medical staff at her school.
Blaise stopped her car in the little parking area nearby, and walked down the well-tended path to the cottage. She could hearSalima’s voice when she reached the door. She was singing, and the door was open, as Blaise quietly walked in, and saw Salima with her back to her in the living room. She and Abby were laughing at something while Salima tried to sing and finally collapsed, laughing, on the couch. She still hadn’t heard anyone come in, and Blaise took three steps across the old beams of the floor in the front hall, and the moment she did, Salima’s head turned.
“Mom?” She knew her step anywhere, and always recognized it the moment Blaise walked in. “Mom!” she said then, sure of it, and dashed across the living room to the hall, as Blaise smiled widely at her and held out her arms, knowing Salima would be in them in seconds.
“I missed you too much. I had to come up today,” Blaise said, as Salima threw herself into her mother’s arms and nearly knocked her down, and then spun her around. Abby watched them with a warm smile, and Blaise waved at her with a free hand. Salima looked as beautiful as ever, with features identical to her mother’s, down to the cleft chin. The only difference was her dark brown hair, which she wore long. She turned her face toward her mother’s, and felt her face. She felt the tears Blaise always shed when she first saw her. “You’re crying! Have I gotten uglier since last time?” Salima teased.
“Totally. It makes me cry just looking at you,” Blaise said with a smile.
“Then I’m glad I don’t have to see it,” Salima said, joking with her, as they walked into the living room together, with Blaise’s arm around her waist as Salima leaned close to her, and then floppeddown on the couch. She knew exactly where things were. Everything in the cottage was familiar to her, and she had no trouble getting around. She was blind.
She had been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when she was three years old, which had been the heartbreak of Blaise’s life. Her perfect baby had a severe case of juvenile diabetes, which could only be treated with insulin. And at first Salima had cried at every shot, and prick of her finger to check her insulin levels. They had eventually gotten her a pump, but she still had to be closely monitored. The pump kept her insulin levels at safe ranges for her, delivering the insulin over twenty-four hours through a catheter under the skin. And they clipped the pump itself to the waistband of her skirt or jeans. It had always worked well for her.
Her eyes had been affected by the time she was six, which they had been told was unusually early. She was too young to lose her sight, the doctors had assured Harry and Blaise. When she was seven, she could still see partially, when her retinas detached, and by eight she was fully blind. They had tried to keep her at home, but Harry lived in Los Angeles, and Blaise traveled all the time. She didn’t trust the caretakers they had with her, she was never sure they were monitoring her properly. And Blaise had had to face the decision of giving up her career to take care of Salima full time, or place her in a school for the blind where they were better equipped to supervise her, monitor her medically, and keep her safe. Her diabetes had to be carefully managed. There was a full medical staff at her school.
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