Chapter 8
I began prepping for the exhibition.
I had already decided on the theme: Half Side.
I was going to capture half the world, exactly how I saw it now.
Every morning, I'd head to the park to sketch.
At first, people would crowd around me, pointing at my eye patch and making comments.
Later, I got used to it and didn't care anymore.
"Sweetheart, what happened to your eye?" An old lady sat down beside me.
"Something happened," I said.
"It's such a pity; you're so young." She sighed. "But it's wonderful that you can still paint."
"You know about painting too?" I asked.
The old lady smiled. "My son's a painter, but he was born colorblind."
A colorblind painter?
"Is he..." I started.
"He's having an exhibition overseas," the old lady said proudly. "He says sometimes flaws can be a style."
Flaws could be a style.
I fell into deep thought.
That afternoon, Kaylee called to check in on how I was doing.
"Your eye pressure looks good, and there's no sign of infection," she said. "But Leila, you need to be mentally prepared."
"Ready for what?" I asked.
"For getting used to your new life. Have you thought about talking to a counselor?" she asked.
I was silent for a moment. "I'm honestly doing okay right now."
"Don't brush off the mental side of things after something like this, especially when you're so young," Kaylee said.
"Thank you for your concern. I'll think about it," I told her.
After I hung up, I got back to sketching.
Later that evening, Caitlin showed up.
She stood at the studio doorway, holding an insulated food container.
"Leila, I brought you some soup," Caitlin said.
I didn't open the door.
"I know you're in there." Caitlin sounded like she was about to cry. "Please, let me in."
"What do you want?" I asked.
"To apologize, and..." She hesitated. "To explain."
Explain?
I opened the door.
She came in and carefully set the insulated container on the table.
"Leila, I really didn't mean for any of this to happen," Caitlin said.
Repeating the same old story.
"I picked that glass tray on purpose because it was so pretty. I wanted to give you the perfect birthday," Caitlin explained.
"Wait, the glass tray?" I asked.
"Yeah, crystal glass. It was expensive," Caitlin blurted out. "I had no idea it would break."
"Harvey saw you putting something on that tray," I said.
Caitlin's face went ghostly pale.
"H-Harvey must've been mistaken," Caitlin stammered.
Her voice was shaking.
"Is that so?" I asked.
"Yeah, I swear!" Caitlin raised her hand. "I swear to God, I didn't—"
"That's enough," I cut her off.
I wasn't falling for her act anymore.
"Caitlin, did you know? Honestly, I don't hate you at all," I said.
She froze.
"Really, I don't hate you. You like Roderick; that's totally normal. Even pulling a few tricks to get close to him. I get it," I said.
"Leila..." Caitlin whispered.
"But," I said, meeting her eyes, "you destroyed my left eye."
Caitlin's eyes filled with tears. "I swear, I didn't mean for this..."
"Whether you meant it or not doesn't matter anymore," I said, pointing at my eye patch. "What matters is my left eye's never recovering."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Caitlin kept apologizing.
"If saying sorry could fix everything, then what's the point of having cops?" I said.
Caitlin's head shot up. "Are you going to call the cops?"
"If I had any proof," I replied.
She looked a bit less tense.
"Too bad, I don't," I said.