Broken Glass

Evan Finney

I can remember losing my eyesight.

                I can remember loosing control of my truck on the way home; watching in helpless terror as it suddenly careened off the road and down an embankment. I can remember it slamming into an old oak tree with indescribable violence.

                 I never hit the windshield because all of the windows in the truck actually imploded when it crashed into the tree. The sudden, sparkling tempest of broken glass blew into the car, shards of glass flew through the air like bullets, piercing through my skin, ripping through my clothes. My face got it the worst. The glass tore through my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids. I can remember throwing my arms up to cover my face just before I was thrown out of the truck.

                I never really had time to react. The sudden shock of my injuries was followed by an almost eerily quiet journey through the air. I was surrounded by the slow, ambient sounds of nature as I drifted through time and space. All this peacefulness was unceremoniously interrupted when my body was suddenly dashed against the ground. Everything went totally black for the first time in my life.

                I awoke to the feeling of cold stream water running over me. I remember my ruined eyes opening for the first time, looking up to the sound of leaves above me and seeing nothing but darkness. No colors, not even any lights, just absolute, fucking, darkness. The horrible realization that I was now blind made me so angry that I forgot that I was dying, bleeding to death in a fucking creek out in the woods. Feeling my life drain out into the running water was suddenly meaningless to me. I didn’t care if I died. How could this have happened to me? I thought as I closed my eyes, feeling tired as the anemic sensation of my massive blood-loss lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

*              *              *             

                So the story goes; I was discovered some hours later-several feet away from the crash site. They took me back to a hospital, where I spent what seemed like an eternity. I remember when the doctors told me that I would never see again. At that point it didn’t matter, I already knew that I wouldn't. They eventually had to take my eyes because of infection. It was horrible.....It was like hell.

                People tried their best to cheer me up. My brother paid me weekly visits and the hospital staff was very kind and cordial to me. I’m sure that some of the nurses must've been pretty. Of course none of that mattered then, all of those people, all of those “heartfelt” conversations, all of those pretty, invisible nurses, were lost to me; sounds and pictures in an abysmal darkness that never lifted. Things would never be the same.

                When I was finally released, my brother drove me back home. I was set up in a cabin that was way out in the woods.  I had just finished building it a few months before my crash. It was isolated, and I was thankful for that. I just wanted to be alone. In the past, I had found true peace and happiness in solitude; maybe it was what I needed now. I smiled when I remembered that not far away from the cabin was a lake where I used to catch fish.

                Fishing was something I really enjoyed.  Just being there, out in nature; it was absolutely nourishing to my soul. I remember sitting on the shore with my rod and tackle box, my line in the water, just looking up at the trees. I would sit there for hours, watching the wind gently caress the branches that hung overhead. I would look out over the water, watching tiny clouds of gnats swarming on the surface, moving lazily over the ripples that ran peacefully over the deep, murky lake. Every now and then a fish would pop up to grab a few of them, before splashing back down into the lake. I would watch in almost

slow motion, as a fish would emerge from the water, the white, perfect sunlight hitting each scale on it’s body in a prism sunburst of color that reflected back into my captivated eyes. I would watch the brilliant colors slowly dissipate into the water as the fish dove back down into the deep.

                All of these fond memories I felt, would never be revisited. My ruined eyes would never see these things again. Not being able to see I believed, was something I would never truly adjust to. I felt positively worthless; unable to enjoy the things I once took for granted.

                For a time, my brother stayed and took care of me. I did my best to try and talk him out of it but he wouldn’t listen to me. I really didn’t need his help. Even so, he did his best to try and help me adjust to living without my eyesight. Those days were very difficult, listless days.  I spent much of my time sitting around the house, “watching” televison and listening to the radio.  My brother would sometimes offer to take me fishing, but I always told him I didn‘t want to. I was convinced that it would have been too unbearable to endure the disappointment. I felt that it was all better left as a memory. 

                As time wore on, I became more difficult to live with. My brother finally gave up

hope for me and moved out. Despite his sincerest efforts I just became more angry and hateful towards everything; especially him. I hated the fact that he made me feel like some kid, incapable of living on my own. Things became more and more tense between us until they reached an almost unavoidable outcome: I attacked my brother. All of my rage and bitterness at losing my eyesight, I took out on him in that one moment. My fists swung through the air, pummeling his face as he lay helpless, pinned beneath me. I can still remember feeling the warm wetness of blood and saliva on my fists, and the defeated, frantic cries to “stop” as I beat him relentlessly.  When it was all over, he ran out of the house and never came back. All he left behind was the sound of screeching truck tires as he pealed out of the driveway. I never heard from him again. His departure left me completely alone. Although eventually I would come to regret what I had done that night, I was finally given what I wanted; Solitude.

                Months went by, and I slowly became more adjusted to living by myself. I was still angry,  still wrought with the feeling of being cheated by life, but at least I was capable. I learned to make better use of my residual senses to do the things my brother used to do for me, wash dishes, turn on the radio, even get firewood. I started to think that I never really needed his help. For a while it was great, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

                 Although I was temporarily satisfied with my life, I quickly discovered that the comfort was fleeting. My newfound confidence and contentment was overshadowed by alarming visions of the future. I had recurring nightmares of dying alone out in the cabin, my body left neglected, consumed by time and vermin. Every time I would awake, covered in cold sweat, shivering from the visceral fear. The thought of living the rest of my life alone, out in the woods, had lost much of its former appeal. I was beginning to feel trapped, like there was nothing I could do to save myself.  Hopelessness and misery loomed over me like a dark cloud, tickling my mind with thoughts of dread and suicide. In the blind darkness I could see my own gray, decayed skull, grinning sadistically at me as I lay alone in my bed. One way or another I thought, I needed an escape from my problems.

                I laid awake in bed for hours that night.  I couldn’t bring myself to face those horrible visions again. As I laid on my back with my empty eyes staring up at the ceiling,

I started to think about fishing, and how my brother always wanted to take me.

                I remembered that although each time I declined my brother’s repeated offers to take me fishing, there was always a part of me that wanted to accept them. Deep down I really did miss the simple pleasure that was once so important to me. As I laid there in bed thinking, I realized that very little about me had changed. I felt that if there was any hope for me to enjoy something, it would have to be fishing. I decided then that after a few days of planning and preparation, I would try fishing again.

*              *              *

                One morning, I woke up, got my rod and tackle box from my closet, and headed out the door of the cabin. I had my doubts of how successful my venture was going to be, but I tried to remain upbeat. I remembered that before I built my home, I had also built a little wooden fence that stood about waist high, and ran all the way out to the lake. I figured that I would use it as a guide. All I had to do was keep my hand on the railing until it ended, and then walk a short distance to the lake shore. This should be easy, I tried to tell myself.

                 I walked slowly toward the fence, carefully moving my hand to grasp the railing. My mind’s eye perception of the fence shifted as I felt how old and rickety it had become. I worried that it might be broken further down, but I quickly dismissed the notion. I stood there a while before I started walking along, keeping my hand fixed on the railing. I kept moving, listening to the scrape of my boots against the dirt path as I walked onward toward the lake.

*              *              *

                When my hand slid off the end of the railing I felt relieved. It appeared that I had finally arrived at the lake. With my fishing rod in my outstretched hand , I gently brushed at the empty space ahead of me as I moved forward. The sound of leaves and twigs crunching softly beneath my careful steps sounded from below. I heard a strange sound as the tip of my fishing rod slipped into the mushy lake shore. I stopped for a moment and stepped back a bit to find a good place to set up my stuff. I set down my fishing rod, feeling the end for my line, and grabbed it up. Opening my tackle box, I reached inside to remove a small jar that I had filled with earthworms the night before. I pulled out a worm, feeling it writhe and struggle aggressively in my fingers as I carefully impaled it on the hook before letting it go. I felt the weight of it as it swung away from me. Holding the fishing rod, I could hear the sound of the worm thrashing softly, and feel the vibration of it’s continuous struggle with reality.  Without any hesitation, I cast my line out into the water, listening as the worm and hook splashed through the surface of the lake.

                After sitting for hours on the edge of that lake I began to feel better. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, and the comforting chill of the breeze on my face, I could hear the sound of the leaves in the trees rustling softly overhead, and the sound of birds chirping off in the distance. I could smell the soft soil, the fresh pine trees and the invigorating smell of the water.

                This was once more, a beautiful place. Closing my ruined eyelids for a moment, I suddenly understood.  I didn’t need eyes to experience what this place had to offer. Being blind didn’t make my life as irrelevant as I believed it would be.

                It was a bittersweet realization. I was right, I really didn’t need anyone’s help to be where I was on that day. What killed me was how much time I had wasted lamenting the fact that I was blind.  My own self pity had been tremendously costly for me, and it was at that moment that I realized just how stupid I had been.

                My thoughtful meditation was suddenly interrupted by a tug on my fishing line. Below the surface of the lake, I could feel a fish anxiously nibbling on the bait. Shaken from my quiet reverie I straightened myself and leaned closer to the edge of the lake, reaching for the reel with one hand, and steadying my fishing rod with the other. Very suddenly, and very quickly I jerked the fishing rod back, smiling knowingly as I felt the line suddenly snap taught.  The creature below the surface of the lake had begun it’s struggle with a blind fisherman.

                I pulled back the rod as I reeled in what felt like a brick at the end of the line. The fish was no doubt very large, but I was way too determined to let it get the best of me.  I felt the line grow tighter, and I knew I had the fish in close. The sound of a huge splash only a few feet in front of me only confirmed my suspicion. Sitting on the shore, I began to excitedly reel in my catch, listening to the frantic sounds of  the fish convulsing wildly in the water. With one final pull, I felt the monster leap out of the muck at the edge of the lake, and land right in my lap, spattering mud all over my face.

                The sudden weight dropping onto me along with the cool spray of lake mud on my face was startling, and it caused me to jump. The fish just lay there in my lap breathing, its’ gills opening and closing very slowly as it lay prone in my lap. I slowly set down my fishing rod and reached my hands down toward it. The monster didn’t struggle as I felt its cold, scaled body. The fish was huge, I could feel its wet scales warming as it lay in the sunlight. With my eyes still closed I slowly ran my hands up to the mouth of the fish. Its maw continuously gaped and then sealed itself shut in a seemingly never-ending cycle.

                 I felt the hook in its mouth, the metal suddenly feeling cold and harsh in my fingers. As I carefully removed the hook, the monster began to protest me, moving around as if to warn against any further interference. I softly laid my hand on the fish’s head and held it there for a moment, before slowly getting up. As I stood, I shifted the fish into the crook of my arm and walked towards the edge of the lake.

                I knew I had neared the edge when the fish began to thrash aggressively. Removing it from the crook of my arm with both hands, I carefully lowered the fish into the lake. Smiling softly as I felt it swim out of my hands and into the water, its tail gently caressing my hand in one quick swipe as it swam away, seemingly oblivious of its’ strange benefactor.

                Still grinning at my achievement, I stepped carefully backward to my blanket on the shore, turning to face the lake as I sat back down. I had kept my eyes closed through the whole ordeal. I sat for a moment and waited until my smile faded away. Then I opened my eyes.

*              *              *

                The sun shone in brilliant oranges and yellows as it began to set in the sky. Light shimmered on the perfect surface of the lake as the reflection of the sunlight lanced out. The trees shifted in the soft breeze, their leaves lightly rustled as the wind moved along. I looked out over the water, watching a tiny gray cloud of gnats swarm on the surface, moving lazily over the ripples on the lake.

                I watched as the fish leapt out from the center of the lake. It’s mouth opened wide, ready to consume the swarming gnats that floated just above the surface of the water. It’s wet scales shimmered in the sunlight as it emerged from the lake. It caught a mouthful of gnats and then began to fall back towards the surface, its slow decent happening almost outside of time.

                Watching that fish fall was like watching a sunset.

                I sat watching as the brilliant light and color slowly began to dissipate into the water. I watched as each shining scale was eclipsed by the surface of the lake. I watched everything around me slowly fade away, into darkness.