Author Note: Thank you so much for your continued support for this fic - I can't believe how well received its been, and that's fantastic. There are never enough stories that include people with disabilities, and I recognise this one is probably far from perfect, and far from being as inclusive as it could be (after all the story is about the disability and not about a person who happens to have a disability). But it's something, and so far I'm really proud of how it's turning out. So thank you all for being here, and taking this on board.
I feel like we're not far from the end, and that makes me sad in some ways, but I can't force more from a story that reaches its natural conclusion. I just hope I can do it justice.
"Where have you been?" Jane asked the second Maura entered the house. Taken aback, Maura stumbled backward, Jane's arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
"Boston Society for the Blind and Partially Sighted," Maura said, stepping out of her arms and feeling her way along the wall towards the kitchen.
Jane followed close behind. "On your own?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Your mother drove me, then drove me home."
Maura ran her hands along the counter until she found the cupboard she hoped was the right one. Reaching in, carefully, she pulled out a glass and carried it over to the sink.
"Where the hell is she?" Jane asked, her voice filling the near silence. "Did she just dump you out on the curb?"
"Of course not," Maura said, running the faucet. "She helped me to the door, but she had to go to work. I'm capable of walking into the house unattended. Tell me when it's full."
"What if no one else was home?"
"I didn't expect you to be."
"You're full." Maura turned off the tap and lowered her head, meeting the glass over the sink. She took a sip, and carried it across to the kitchen island. "How would you have managed?"
"I'm getting the hang of moving around the house now."
"Still…"
"Jane. I'm fine."
"I'm gonna have a word with Ma. She needs to be more considerate."
"Jane." Maura felt her temple pulse. "Stop. I'm okay. It was my choice. She was going to come in but I insisted. She was going to be late for work, because I was delayed leaving the Blind Society. She's done enough for me today, she doesn't need you berating her for it."
"Right." The stool scraped across the floor opposite her and she altered her gaze, following Jane as, Maura could only assume, Jane sat down at the counter. "Did you have a good time?"
"I did," she said, smiling.
"Want some lunch? I ordered a pizza."
"Pizza would be lovely."
x
The pizza box sat open on the kitchen counter. Maura sat beside Jane, chewing hungrily on a slice of pepperoni. Whilst she'd never had a love of pizza that could match Jane's, losing her sight gave her a newfound appreciation of the smell of pizza.
"So, tell me what the "blind society" is like," Jane said. Maura frowned, the hint of a smirk lingered in Jane's tone. "Is it full of blind people?"
She sighed. "Jane."
"What? It was a joke."
"Please don't make jokes like that." She lowered her pizza slice back onto the edge of the box. "Of course it's full of visually impaired people. In case it escaped your notice, I'm no longer full sighted."
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"Whether you did or didn't, I'd rather you not make jokes about my disability."
Jane finished chewing and swallowed. The moment's silence stretched out, feeling like it was twice as long as it should have been. "You're not disabled, not like other people. You're a genius."
"Geniuses can have disabilities." Maura reached her hand out to her side, in search of Jane's fingers, but she couldn't find them. She pulled her hands back onto her lap. "Albert Einstein was dyslexic, and he had difficulty with social interactions. Vincent Van Gogh is known worldwide because of his artistic skill, and yet he was known to have suffered depression. Beethoven is one of the greatest composers in history, all whilst having a hearing impairment. You can be extraordinary and still face a disability."
"Yeah, okay." Jane sighed. "But you're still you."
"I am." Maura frowned, feeling the deepening of the crease between her eyebrows. "That is exactly right. I'm still me. I also have a disability."
"But you're not like other disabled people."
Pressing her lips together, Maura's composure wavered. "In what way?"
"I don't know. You're just not."
Breathing in slowly, Maura found a semblance of calm, before continuing. "I'm going to let how I feel about this go because I know you mean well, but what you're saying is offensive."
"Oh."
The disappointment in Jane's voice only confused her further. The words, the tone of Jane's voice, bothered her, and yet she knew Jane better than anybody.
"Disabled people are no different from you. They're no different from me, the me before I suffered this injury and the me now. They're humans with the same blood, the same skin. The only difference is we have something we can't do the same, or as easily, as others."
"I know, I just…" Jane's voice trailed off, lost in a sea of confusion and awkward tension.
"No." Maura cut her off. She couldn't listen to her excuses, not now, not today. She'd had the best time at the Blind Society, and she didn't want to have to deal with Jane's lack of understanding. "Jane. Please, let me finish. Being disabled does not make me different."
"I didn't mean you."
"Maybe you didn't, but you meant other people who are like me, which be default includes me."
A brief break in Jane's voice hit Maura where it hurt. "I didn't mean to offend you."
She sighed. "I'm differently abled now. I am still the same person; I still love the things I love."
"I really didn't mean it like that, Maura."
"You might not, but that's how it comes across."
"I'm sorry."
"I know. Please can you consider the words you use in future, they matter, they make a difference."
"Okay." Jane went silent for a moment. It stretched out between them, pulling them at a distance for the first time in what felt like forever. "So what did you do there?"
"I had a look around," Maura said, her cheeks ached from the width of her smile.
The briefest sound escaped Jane's lips, sending Maura right back into a place of disappointment and sadness. "You looked around?"
"Jane. Please."
"I'm sorry," she said. "Even you've got to admit that's not a good way to put it."
"How else can I put it? The English language is intrinsically linked to sight. I had a look around, I saw the facilities. I may not have seen it with my eyes, but I was still shown the centre. We did it differently to how you might be shown around, but it is the same thing."
"What did you see?" Jane asked, her voice still light and laced with laughter.
Maura pursed her lips. "You need to stop doing that."
"I'm sorry. It's kinda funny."
She licked her lip and tried to maintain a steady breath. "It was a little funny the first few times. Now it's annoying, and offensive. This is my life, it is not a joke."
"Okay." Jane's voice changed from jovial to serious, her tone sorrowful. "I'm sorry."
When she was sure that Jane had stopped joking around, she recalled her day. "They told me about the different classes they run; I signed up for a computer class where I'll learn how to use the software required for using a computer."
"That'll be good. Then you can get back to the shopping I know you love so much."
"I do miss shopping," Maura said, smiling. "I really wanted to sign up for a cooking class that starts next week but they suggested I wait a while until I've done some of the other classes. Apparently cooking at this stage is like trying to run when I can barely even stand up. I'm hoping to start on the next braille class; it's not used as much anymore because of all the technology that makes it a little redundant. I like the idea of knowing it."
"Of course you do, you're a brain box." Jane paused. "I can still say that, can't I?"
"Yes Jane," Maura said, reaching out to her arm. She wrapped her fingers around Jane's wrist. "You may. My visual impairment doesn't lower my IQ."
"What's the technology that's replaced braille? I thought all blind people knew braille."
"No, fewer than ten per cent of blind people can read braille; it used to be a lot higher a few decades ago. There have been many great inventions, such as label readers to read packaging in the grocery store, or CDs and DVDs at home. You can create your own labelling system."
"You don't need a DVD collection, you have Netflix."
"Which I can't see."
"Oh. Yeah."
"There are many products that come in talking versions – calculators, watches, scales, microwave ovens. You can even get measuring jugs and thermometers that are accessible. Sue, from the Blind Society, was telling me about the products from a great website she uses. I'd like a first aid kit, there's also a blood pressure cuff, and clinical thermometer. I'd like a talking globe, it's in the children's section, but I like the idea of being able to find things on a map."
"That's what Google maps is for." She rested her hand over Maura's. "Surely you could just use Siri."
"This is better, Jane," Maura said, squeezing her arm a little harder. The more she found out, the more excited she became. "It's easier for me. I'm sure once I know how to use a computer, and I've learned how to use a cellphone again, I'll be able to use Google. Just not right now. There's also beginners yoga for the blind and visually impaired."
"At the Blind Society?"
"No, from the website."
"You already know how to do yoga."
"That may be so but I'd like to see how they teach blind people to do it."
"Won't it just be someone telling you how to do it?"
"Maybe, but I won't know until I've purchased it."
"Sounds a bit pointless, but okay." Jane rubbed her hand across the back of Maura's. "What else is there? A talking fridge? A kitchen sink?"
Letting out the briefest laugh, Maura lowered her hand. "I didn't see the whole catalogue. I'm considering getting one of every item, though it would be good to go to a convention to see them all. I'd like to get a talking bible, regardless."
She could almost hear the turning of the cogs in Jane's brain, so much so that it didn't surprise her when she finally asked "But you're not religious."
"So?"
"So why do you need a bible?"
"You never know when it might come in handy."
"Do you have a bible now?"
"Yes, I have three versions; American Standard, King James 2000 Version, and the new International Reader's Version."
Her words muffled as she chewed on another slice of pizza. "I will never understand some things about you, Maura. Why didn't I know that, the least religious person I know, had not one, but three copies of the bible?"
"I don't really use them."
"Have you ever?"
"I referred to a couple of the Psalms a few months before my accident."
Jane clicked her tongue in her mouth. "The attack?"
"Sue thought it might be worth using more positive terminology when I talk about my injury."
"Why? You didn't have an accident, that's not being positive."
"I want to try it out," Maura said. She didn't quite know what she thought about the idea. Positivity was not necessarily something she bought into. "I wanted to see how it feels."
"Everything doesn't have to be positive," Jane said. "You can't be positive all of the time, it won't change the fact you're permanently injured."
"I know. But I can't keep being negative about it, either."
She picked up her half eaten slice of pizza and took another bite, listening to the soft chewing of Jane's mouth beside her. She couldn't remember such a good day before, a day where she wasn't tied to the people in her life in the way she had been for weeks.
"I need you to buy everything for me," Maura said, after swallowing a mouthful of pizza. "Or help me to do it myself. Maybe we can go to one of the conferences coming up in a couple of months, though I don't want to wait that long for everything. First I'd like a personal assistant and attach it to all of my devices here."
"What's that?" Jane asked, dropping a crust onto the box. Maura reached out and picked it up, handing it back to Jane. She groaned loudly. "It's good for you."
"It's hard and too crunchy." A moment later, she chewed it loudly.
"I suppose it's a little like Siri, but for your home. You can connect it to the thermostat, sockets, lightbulbs."
"So you ask it to do something and it does it?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Maura sighed, confused by the range of emotions evident in Jane's voice. "You sound disappointed."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Well, if you do all these things you can do everything, can't you?"
"Not quite," Maura said, frowning.
"But a lot of stuff."
"What is wrong with that, Jane?"
"What about me?"
"What about you?" Maura narrowed her eyes. "This is how I become independent. This is how I get my life back. For most of my life I have not relied on anyone."
"I like that you need me," Jane said, cutting her off before she could say anything more. Her heart sank and she felt the sadness seep through. The one thing she'd hated about the last few weeks was being dependent on Jane, it hadn't occurred to her that Jane might actually enjoy that.
"I'm still going to need you." She twisted around in her seat and reached out, trailing her hands up and around her cheeks, pulling Jane in close until she could capture her lips. "I'm going to need you for lots of things. Cooking, cleaning, filling my coffee cup, those are things I want to be able to do myself."
"But I like that you depend on me," Jane said, cutting herself off with another kiss.
"I don't like being dependent on anyone." Maura pulled her mouth away, her hands still tucked around Jane's cheeks. "Especially you."
"Oh. Right."
Maura rubbed her fingers across her skin. "That's not to say that I haven't appreciated everything you've done. It means so much to me. I don't want you looking after me forever, least not out of some semblance of owing me something, or guilt."
Jane moved herself out of her grasp. Maura reached out to her, but she disappeared off her stool and her shoes tapped across the kitchen a few feet away.
"That's what you think?" Jane asked. "That I'm doing this because I feel guilty?"
"That thought has crossed my mind," Maura said, trying to be honest.
"Is that why you won't let me kiss you?"
"I don't mind if you kiss me," she said.
"You don't mind, but you don't want it."
"I never said I didn't want it." Maura gripped the edge of the counter and placed her feet on the ground. She turned to face where she anticipated Jane to be. "I just worry that this thing between us came from a place of guilt."
The break in Jane's voice hit her hard. "That's how little you think of me?"
"No," she said, stepping forward. She collided with Jane's stool and cursed loudly, rubbing her hip.
"Sorry." Jane stayed at a distance. "Do you really think I'd do that? You kissed me first."
"I know." She rubbed her hip. "I shouldn't have. I should have talked to you about my feelings."
"Which are?" Jane asked, her voice growing harsher. "Are they even real? Or do you only feel something because I'm here?"
"Now you're being petulant," Maura said. She felt her way around the stool. "Having to depend on you, to adapt to this, to learn a new world, I learned what really matters."
"So did I," Jane said, her voice broke again.
"Good," Maura said, stepping forward, she reach out again until her fingertips touched Jane's shoulders. "I'm glad."
She stepped closer, closing the gap until her face was inches from Jane's. She breathed deeply, allowing her breath to tickle Jane's skin. "Can you please not replace me with everything you can possibly buy?"
"We'll see," Maura said, smirking. "But I did pick up some information on a class you can take."
"Me? What is it?" Jane asked.
"Sighted guide, to help me navigate. I can't do that on my own. If I've never been there before, I need you to help me learn. Would that help you feel more useful?"
"I guess so," Jane said, lowering her forehead against Maura's.
Resting a hand on each of her cheeks, she moved her lips towards Jane's, then stopped. "You can kiss me, if you'd like."
The gap shrunk. Jane's lips graced over the surface of Maura's before she pulled back again. "Maybe later."
Smacking her playfully, Maura laughed until it merged with Jane's. Her lips landed on Maura's and they stood like that for a moment, their mouths joined, moving together in what felt like the perfect moment.
