Chapter 5

Closing the front door behind him, Steve trod carefully down the steps holding onto the rail, which Mark had insisted on having installed, and walked across to the trunk of his car. Throwing his bags in he moved round to the driver's door. Opening it up, he leaned in placed the bag containing his camera equipment onto the passenger seat and then curled himself in behind the wheel. Fastening his seatbelt, Steve turned on the ignition and drove off. He knew that his dad was going to worry, that was something that came as naturally to him as breathing, but he needed to do this. One last road trip, on his own, whilst he was still able to. He had no clear idea of exactly where he was headed or what he was going to do when he got there so, pointing his car in the direction of PCH, he set off.

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Mark returned to the beach house after a long and very busy shift, not to mention many abortive attempts to contact his son, with his danger antennae fully extended.  Entering the house, Mark dropped his keys on the hall table and walked through to the kitchen. The house felt ominously empty and instinctively, Mark moved back through the lounge and made his way down the stairs to Steve's unit. The silence followed, enveloping him like a thick blanket. Mark looked around for some clue as to what might be happening, initially finding nothing. Then, just as he was about to leave Mark caught sight of the large note board Steve had on his kitchen wall and on it there was a white sheet of paper with large, uneven writing on it, much larger than it used to be.  Moving across, Mark read the words.

Dad,

Don't worry. I am OK. I just need to get

away for a while. I'll call. Talk to Jonathan
if you want to.

Steve

Touched that, given his current aversion to writing, Mark stood just looking at the note, several emotions running through his brain. There was a part of him that was worried about Steve and what he was going through at the moment. However, as a doctor, he was a little relieved that, at last, Steve seemed to be reacting to what was happening. He was very proud of how Steve had been handling himself over the past few months, more proud than he could ever say. Nonetheless he, along with Jesse and Amanda, had been very surprised that there hadn't been an explosion of emotion as there often was when Steve was ill. Whilst he was concerned at what Steve might be doing at this point, Mark was pleased that there was a reaction.

Whilst Mark had every intention of following Steve's second instruction he did not intend, nor have the ability, to follow the first.  Of course he'd worry!  He would only stop worrying about his children the day they nailed the lid down. Mark looked at his watch, Jonathan would have left the office now so he wouldn't be able to talk to him until tomorrow. Making a decision, Mark left the house and drove to Bobs where he knew he would find some company.

As Mark walked through the entrance Jesse, busy serving, spotted him and waved. Returning the greeting, Mark found an empty table and sat down waiting for his friend. He wasn't alone long. Jesse had passed the order he had been taking to the kitchen and immediately moved across to Mark. Sitting down, Jesse said, "Okay, Mark, what's up?"

"What makes you think that something is wrong?" Mark countered, knowing full well that it was useless to try and hide anything from Jesse who, despite his boyish exterior, was exceptionally perceptive.

"Hmm, let me think," Jesse replied, "No Steve, the look on your face and ….oh yeah, no Steve."

Mark couldn't help but smile.

"Am I that obvious?" he asked.

"Only to those of us who know you well." Jesse replied, "I ask again, what's up?"

"Steve has decided to go walkabout or, given that his car isn't at home, driveabout."

"I don't understand," Jesse answered, "why now?"

"I'm not sure either," Mark replied, "I'll need to talk to Jonathan in the morning, but I

strongly suspect that he has told Steve that he won't be able to drive for much longer."

"Ah," Jesse's one syllable answer said it all, "So you haven't spoken to Steve at all."

"No, he had taken off before I got home."

"So how do you know he hasn't just gone out for the evening?" Jesse was nothing if not persistent.

"There was a note in his kitchen for me and his travel bag along with some clothes is missing." Mark said, pausing a second before continuing, "I'll just have to wait until Steve gets in contact."

"Let me know when he does," Jesse said.

"Of course I will," Mark affirmed, "and I'll let Amanda know as well."

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The first person that Jonathan Harper saw when he arrived for work the next morning was Jesse, who had arisen very early and had been waiting outside Jonathan's office since 7 am.

"I can't give you any information on a patient, Jesse," he spoke before the younger man could speak.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Jesse replied, "but I would like some help please."

"Certainly," Jonathan replied, opening his office door and gesturing for Jesse to precede him, "what can I do?"

"I want to see what Steve is seeing," Jesse was blunt.

Jonathan looked a little puzzled, "I'm not sure that I'm with you."

"I've researched all about macular degeneration since Steve was diagnosed and I've seen a couple of doctored pictures showing what someone with the condition sees, but I still want to experience it for myself. I want to do this so that I can really understand what Steve is going through."

 "I'm not sure how I can do that," Jonathan responded thoughtfully.

"There must be some way to simulate the effects," Jesse said.

Jonathan thought for a while and then said, "The only thing that I can come up with would be to have a pair of contact lenses made with the centre disfigured in some way."

"Do you think that would work?" now that there was a tangible idea on the table, Jesse's enthusiasm ratcheted itself up a couple of notches.

 "Well, I've never been asked to do anything like this before but, yes, the more I think about it, the more I think it would work."

 "Will you do them for me please?"

"You will need a sight test so that the lenses are right for you. Tell me, Jesse, why would you want to do something like this?" Jonathan asked.

"Because Steve is my friend," Jesse answered quietly, more serious than Jonathan had ever seen him, "and like it says in the old saying 'don't let me criticise a man until I have walked a mile in his moccasins'. Well, I'm not criticising Steve but if I could get just a glimpse of what he is having to deal with then I think that I'll be able to support him better."

Jonathan smiled, "Jesse, are an amazing young man. Steve is very lucky to have you as a friend."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Jesse smiled his pleasure at the praise.

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The sun was beginning to set as Steve turned into the car park of a beach front motel. It had been the large, fluorescent neon sign proclaiming vacancies that had attracted his attention. He had been driving for quite a while and his eyes were beginning to feel gritty with tiredness.

Getting out of the car, Steve slung the strap of his camera bag over his shoulder, moving then to the trunk to retrieve his other bag. The light was rapidly decreasing now and Steve needed to be careful as he made his way to the reception area. The young woman, seated behind the high counter, who was busy reading a magazine,  looked up as she heard the tinkle of the door bell. As she caught sight of Steve, her face lit up in a smile, for it wasn't very often that such a good looking guy crossed her path.

"Good evening, Sir." She purred, "Can I help you?"

"I'd like a room for the night, please." Steve replied.

"Single or double?" the young woman asked.

Recognising the tone in her voice, Steve had to restrain a grin as he answered, "Single."

Reaching to her left Cindy, as her badge proclaimed her name to be, picked up a blank registration card and pushed it, along with a pen, towards Steve. He swallowed, with his deteriorating eyesight writing was something that he found difficult and avoided  if he could. Picking up the pen, Steve laboriously completed the card and felt, rather than saw, the frown which crossed Cindy's face.

"I have a sight problem," he explained.

Cindy's brow cleared and she replied, "I wondered if that's what it was, I have a friend who has eye problems. How bad are yours?"

Under normal circumstances Steve would have resented such a bold question from a complete stranger. Somehow, though, the tone in Cindy's voice was one of genuine curiosity rather than anything else and he found himself answering her.

"I have a condition called macular degeneration," he explained, "my left eye has less than 20/200 vision and the right eye is well on the way there. It is probable that, after my next visit to the specialist, I will have to give up my drivers licence so I am having one last solo trip."

"Where are you headed?" Cindy asked as she plucked a room key from the board next to her, before moving round to stand next to Steve.

"When I left home this morning," Steve began, "I didn't have a clue. But I've been having a think on the drive and there is a great spot for whale watching along the coast and I'm going to head there."

"That sounds cool," Cindy answered, "Would you like to see your room now?"

"Yes, please," Steve answered, leaning down to pick his bag up and following Cindy along a brightly lit corridor to his room.

Since his diagnosis, this was the longest car journey, as driver, that Steve had undertaken and he was surprised at how the extra level of concentration needed had tired him out. Deciding that he needed sleep more than he needed food, Steve took a quick shower and was very soon tucked up in bed mulling over, just before he drifted off, the things that he would be experiencing over the next few days.