The Day I Opened My Eyes to His Lies

Back home, Abraham fetched a dry towel from the bathroom and draped it over my head.

"Dry off quick, before you catch a cold."

Then he went and ran a bath for me.

"You're soaked through. Go wash up."

His voice was as patient as ever.

For a second I even wondered if I'd misheard everything by the back door.

By the time I came out of the bath, he'd already made me a cup of instant ginger tea.

The side of the mug was warm. He wrapped my hand around it.

"Drink it while it's hot. You were out in the rain so long today. I don't want you spiking a fever tonight."

I bent my head and took a sip.

Maybe it was everything sitting on my mind, but it always tasted like something was missing.

His phone chimed once, and Abraham opened the message.

Pamela's soft voice floated out of the speaker.

"Abraham, the air conditioning in the taxi is way too cold!"

"My stomach's kind of upset now. I don't know if I got chilled."

Abraham was on his feet at once.

"Lie down first. I'll make you some ginger tea."

And with that he went into the kitchen.

Soon I heard the knife come down on the cutting board.

Then the cabinet door, the red dates being taken out, the gas burner clicking on.

I sat quietly on the couch, holding my cup of instant ginger tea.

He kept muttering to himself in the kitchen.

"Can't put in too much ginger. Pam doesn't like it spicy."

"Go easy on the brown sugar too. She doesn't want it too sweet."

"Need to hurry, get it over to her fast, or she'll come down with a cold and it'll be a mess."

He remembered that Pamela couldn't take spice, remembered she didn't like things too sweet.

But the ginger tea he'd handed me just now was something he'd grabbed from the cabinet and stirred up without a thought.

I'd been drinking it for years, and he'd never once felt there was anything wrong with that.

The ginger tea was still simmering.

He slipped out to help me pack.

He folded my clothes one by one and tucked the medicines I usually took into the side pocket.

"Motion-sickness pills go on the very outside, so you're not digging for them later."

"Oh, and when you come back, remember to bring Pam some leafy greens."

My hands went still.

"Do you even remember what my grandma likes? Aren't you going to bring her something?"

"Just grab some fruit on the way, say it's from me. Older folks all like that kind of thing, don't they?"

I didn't say anything else.

That crash years ago hadn't just taken my sight. It had taken my parents too.

Grandma is the only family I have left in this world.

Yet he wanted me to bring back greens for Pamela, and it never crossed his mind to send anything to my grandma.

He only remembered Pamela.

Abraham patted the suitcase, already full.

"You're only going back for a week. All this stuff?"

"Anyone who didn't know better would think you weren't coming back."

I said softly,

"Maybe I really won't."

Abraham laughed and reached over to ruffle my hair.

"All right, go let your grandma spoil you for a few days. Once you've cooled off, you'll come home."

The water in the kitchen came to a boil.

Abraham turned off the flame and poured the finished ginger tea into a thermos.

"She just sat under the air conditioning for a while. You're taking it over right now?"

"Yeah. She lives alone, no one around to look after her. I can't rest easy."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Then he set the cane down beside me.

"Get to bed early. I'll be back soon."

After the door shut, the apartment went completely still.

I kept packing the last of my things.

When I opened the cabinet, my fingertips brushed a row of neat, square boxes.

Oat milk, sugar-free crackers, and heat patches.

All of it things Pamela was used to.

The moment any of it ran low, Abraham would restock it ahead of time.

But I'd been saying for a week that I wanted an orange soda.

Every time, Abraham would say,

"I'll get you one next time."

And to this day he never had.

I braced myself on the cabinet and stood, meaning to put my ID in the suitcase.

The cane had barely touched the floor when the tip skidded out hard.

I pitched forward, and my knee slammed into the edge of the coffee table.

It hurt.

He'd just washed the red dates for the ginger tea, and the floor was slick with water he hadn't wiped up.

I'd fallen because of this more times than I could count.

He still hadn't changed.

The cane was a problem too. I'd used it so long that the rubber tip on the bottom had worn smooth.

I'd asked Abraham to fix it for me ages ago.

He clearly knew how to fix things. When the leg of a table at Pamela's place came loose, he went over and had it done in a few minutes.

But when it came to my cane, all he did was wrap some tape around it a few times.

"It still works. Just make do."

Later the tape peeled off, and I asked him to fix it again.

He always said he was busy, make do, he'd get to it when he had time.

So now, I'd fallen again.

I felt my way back to the couch, my palm pressed against my throbbing knee.

Lying there, phone at my side, it never rang, not once, the whole night.

That night, Abraham didn't come home.