in the cottage, Salima almost appeared sighted, she knew the placement of everything so well.
“Do you want to go out for brunch?” Blaise offered, but Salima usually didn’t. She was happiest on the familiar school grounds, except for her classes at college, where she had no choice. It was why she had decided not to go to Dartmouth, despite her excellent grades. She thought it would be too hard to get around, and Abby couldn’t go with her. And Salima couldn’t manage without her. She was totally dependent on her, which was both good and bad. Blaise was well aware that if Abby ever left for any reason, Salima would be lost without her.
“Abby promised to make her special waffles,” Salima said, looking like a child again.
“It would be fun to eat at Peterson’s,” Blaise suggested. She always thought it would do her good to get out, but Salima seemed to have no need or desire to venture into the world. She was happy in her cottage.
“I’d rather eat here,” Salima said bluntly. She lived in a cocoon that Blaise had provided for her, and Abby was happy in it with her. She was a local girl who had never ventured far from home. She had gone to New York for the first time with Salima, and looked terrified the whole time she was there when they came home for school vacations. It was Salima who had reassured her. Abby was used to it now, but it had taken several years. And while Salima wasat home, they rarely left the apartment. They watched movies on Blaise’s big movie screen, which Salima could listen to and follow, with tapes recorded by a “movie describer” to describe the action for the vision impaired. Salima loved movies. They ordered meals from restaurants to be delivered to the apartment. Blaise always had a tough time getting them out, even here. But Abby took exquisite care of her. She monitored her blood counts and checked her pump scrupulously, and did everything for Salima. And Salima looked immaculate, beautifully groomed, and perfectly put together. The only thing Abby couldn’t do was braids, and sing, and Salima teased her mercilessly about both.
Abby went out to the kitchen a few minutes later, set the table, and served them freshly made waffles.
“I forgive you for not being able to sing,” Salima announced with a mouthful of waffles and diabetic maple syrup. “Your waffles are fantastic!” Abby loved to spoil her in countless small ways. It made Blaise’s heart ache. Abby was the mother that she knew she could never be. She didn’t have the time or the patience. Abby did. Blaise lived in a much bigger world, which she had shielded Salima from religiously. Salima was not a secret, but Blaise never talked about her diabetes or her blindness. And she had kept her away from the press all her life. Blaise was intensely private and protective of Salima.
Her going blind, and being diagnosed with diabetes before that, had broken Blaise’s heart, and Harry’s. He had never been able to adjust to it. And rather than accepting that he had a blind daughter and dealing with it, he ran away from it and hardly ever saw her. Itwas too painful for him. He sent her birthday cards, and had Blaise buy her Christmas and birthday gifts. He didn’t know what she wanted, even as a young child, and her blindness confused him, so he didn’t bother getting her anything, and asked Blaise to do it, which she did, and always credited him with fabulous gifts, beautiful dolls when she was younger, which she enjoyed even if she couldn’t see them. She was like any other child. She loved music as she got older, leather jackets, a fur parka when she turned eighteen that Salima had worn ever since. But her father hardly ever coming to see her had been a disappointment to her all her life. He never called her either. She rarely spoke about it and had made her peace with it, but sometimes when his name came up, Blaise could see how much it had hurt her. Blaise tried to explain it to Harry, to no avail. He just
“Do you want to go out for brunch?” Blaise offered, but Salima usually didn’t. She was happiest on the familiar school grounds, except for her classes at college, where she had no choice. It was why she had decided not to go to Dartmouth, despite her excellent grades. She thought it would be too hard to get around, and Abby couldn’t go with her. And Salima couldn’t manage without her. She was totally dependent on her, which was both good and bad. Blaise was well aware that if Abby ever left for any reason, Salima would be lost without her.
“Abby promised to make her special waffles,” Salima said, looking like a child again.
“It would be fun to eat at Peterson’s,” Blaise suggested. She always thought it would do her good to get out, but Salima seemed to have no need or desire to venture into the world. She was happy in her cottage.
“I’d rather eat here,” Salima said bluntly. She lived in a cocoon that Blaise had provided for her, and Abby was happy in it with her. She was a local girl who had never ventured far from home. She had gone to New York for the first time with Salima, and looked terrified the whole time she was there when they came home for school vacations. It was Salima who had reassured her. Abby was used to it now, but it had taken several years. And while Salima wasat home, they rarely left the apartment. They watched movies on Blaise’s big movie screen, which Salima could listen to and follow, with tapes recorded by a “movie describer” to describe the action for the vision impaired. Salima loved movies. They ordered meals from restaurants to be delivered to the apartment. Blaise always had a tough time getting them out, even here. But Abby took exquisite care of her. She monitored her blood counts and checked her pump scrupulously, and did everything for Salima. And Salima looked immaculate, beautifully groomed, and perfectly put together. The only thing Abby couldn’t do was braids, and sing, and Salima teased her mercilessly about both.
Abby went out to the kitchen a few minutes later, set the table, and served them freshly made waffles.
“I forgive you for not being able to sing,” Salima announced with a mouthful of waffles and diabetic maple syrup. “Your waffles are fantastic!” Abby loved to spoil her in countless small ways. It made Blaise’s heart ache. Abby was the mother that she knew she could never be. She didn’t have the time or the patience. Abby did. Blaise lived in a much bigger world, which she had shielded Salima from religiously. Salima was not a secret, but Blaise never talked about her diabetes or her blindness. And she had kept her away from the press all her life. Blaise was intensely private and protective of Salima.
Her going blind, and being diagnosed with diabetes before that, had broken Blaise’s heart, and Harry’s. He had never been able to adjust to it. And rather than accepting that he had a blind daughter and dealing with it, he ran away from it and hardly ever saw her. Itwas too painful for him. He sent her birthday cards, and had Blaise buy her Christmas and birthday gifts. He didn’t know what she wanted, even as a young child, and her blindness confused him, so he didn’t bother getting her anything, and asked Blaise to do it, which she did, and always credited him with fabulous gifts, beautiful dolls when she was younger, which she enjoyed even if she couldn’t see them. She was like any other child. She loved music as she got older, leather jackets, a fur parka when she turned eighteen that Salima had worn ever since. But her father hardly ever coming to see her had been a disappointment to her all her life. He never called her either. She rarely spoke about it and had made her peace with it, but sometimes when his name came up, Blaise could see how much it had hurt her. Blaise tried to explain it to Harry, to no avail. He just
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