Chapter 185: Timothy
Brad suddenly spoke up, "Jane, your painting skills have seriously leveled up. Looks like Larry's been giving you some solid tips."
"Yeah, I've been busting my butt too, you know. But Brad, just going off the descriptions in the materials, it's tough to nail it, especially with all these colors now. The range they give is way too limited, and it'd be a waste not to use more colors. Can I throw in my own spin based on what the materials say?"
"Forget the academic stuff for a sec; it’s all about whether it fits what the developer wants. So, I’d say whip up a few small samples with some bold contrasts and let Larry check 'em out. But," Brad paused, a hint of a chuckle in his voice, "that crape myrtle tree you painted is killer. That red is something else, never seen anything like it."
Daniel's hand holding the fork froze, and his breathing got heavier. Brad and I shared a knowing look.
Seemed like he was listening. Good sign; meant our little act was working.
Daniel wasn’t born blind. Blue skies, white clouds, vast oceans, green trees, and vibrant flowers—he used to see all that stuff, but those memories might be slipping away. Without hope of seeing again, he might let go of those memories. But with a glimmer of hope, he'd crave those colors like crazy.
That way, he'd be super motivated to fix his eyes.
I was gonna mention the scene of kids running on the playground when we got back, but Brad stopped me, mouthing that too much was as bad as too little.
While clearing the dishes, Brad casually said, "Daniel, the doc will be here in about a week. I’ve set up an appointment for you."
Daniel agreed without a second thought.
Six days later, early in the morning, Louis called me all excited. He said his classmate's uncle would be landing soon and had agreed to see Daniel. We needed to get the materials ready, and we could see him by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Hearing this, I was stoked.
Daniel getting better would mean my job was done, but that wasn’t the main thing. The big deal was he could see this beautiful world again and go wherever he wanted, just like before. And Brad wouldn’t have to be all gloomy and guilty because of Daniel’s disability.
We scrambled to gather all of Daniel’s medical reports and scans, checking them over and over, scared we’d miss something.
Brad carried Daniel into the bathroom, ignoring his protests, and scrubbed him down from head to toe, then dressed him in new pajamas.
All day, we were buzzing with excitement, and Daniel even cracked a few secret smiles.
After dinner, Daniel stopped me at the kitchen door and asked me again if I’d still be with him if he got better.
I told him straight up no, because the person I’d always like in the future was Brad. With Daniel, it was about responsibility, not love.
Until I left, Daniel was in a funk. He didn’t even say goodnight back.
The next morning, Louis swung by to pick us up.
The specialist's name was Timothy Clark, a guy in his thirties, tall and built like a linebacker.
After handing over the materials to Timothy, the three of us sat on chairs, waiting anxiously like we were on trial or something.
Timothy took out the reports, carefully examining each one, then pulled out the scans, holding them up to the light one by one. After that, he placed everything on the table and looked at us.
Maybe our overly tense expressions were so amusing that Timothy actually laughed, and pretty heartily too.
"Timothy, how's it looking? What's the success rate of the surgery?" Louis asked.
"The situation isn't too complicated. If I do the surgery, the success rate is about ninety percent. But we still need a thorough pre-surgery check-up."
I cheered and was about to jump up, but Brad calmed me down and politely asked, "Can you tell us where the remaining ten percent risk lies?"
Timothy gave us a surprised look and then said, "Technically, I'm confident. The reason I didn't guarantee one hundred percent is that there are so many factors at play, not just fate, but human ones too."
After speaking, he gave us another meaningful look.
"Do you want to go through with the surgery?" Timothy raised his chin arrogantly. "If you do, get admitted to the hospital immediately, do the necessary tests, and prepare. I have time the morning after tomorrow."
Brad and I both waited for Daniel's response. He was the patient, and even the best doctor needed the patient's cooperation.
Daniel lifted his head and softly said, "Yes."
What followed was a whirlwind of activity to get him admitted to the hospital. Brad made several trips between home, school, and the hospital.
Seeing how busy we were, Louis brought Mindy to help.
I found a moment to call Ronan, Helen, Hugh, and Emma. They were all stoked and said they'd come by in the afternoon. Emma, in particular, was over the moon to hear that Louis was helping and kept expressing her thanks.
Everyone had the same goal. Daniel's injury was directly related to me, so there was no need to thank.
By the time we settled Daniel into a private room, it was almost 3 PM, and none of us had time for lunch. Despite this, everyone was in high spirits, and no one complained.
I was wiped out, having never organized anything like this before, and collapsed on the chair to rest.
Mindy suggested going out to eat, but Louis didn't agree. He took Mindy away, saying they had a family gathering in the evening, and there was no need to make a fuss now. He told us to take it easy and that we could eat out anytime, no rush for today.
Once Daniel was asleep, Brad pulled me up, handed me some water, and gave me a piece of bread to eat.
We snuggled in the chair, talking softly.
"Daniel will be better after tomorrow, Brad. Are you happy?"
"Of course, I'm happy. Mom and Dad will be thrilled too. But do you know what makes me even happier?"
How could I not know?
I knew, but I didn't say it out loud.
"What is it?"
"You know it." Brad nibbled on my earlobe, his warm breath on my face, both hot and ticklish.
I playfully dodged, insisting he explain.
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