Beyond the pale
moonlight lurked a malignant blackness threatening to consume
everything—even Toni’s father. Toni knew her father feared nothing more
than the dark. She prayed she could help him face it.
Toni stared at the doctor
without really seeing him, trying to comprehend his words, hoping she’d
“. . . basically just medical
jargon,” he said, pausing to meet Toni’s eyes. “The bottom line is your
father is going blind.”
Toni tried to swallow the lump
in her throat. “How long?”
“Hard to say. I believe he’ll
be legally blind before he turns seventy-three, but I suspect his
vision will be too poor to paint in no more than two years.”
The eye chart in the corner
blurred as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Isn’t there anything you can
do?, I’m afraid he might simply give up, if he can’t . . .” Toni’s
strained voice broke.
The doctor reached across his
desk and gave Toni’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. I’ve thought
the same thing.” He handed Toni a box of tissues before continuing.
“This would be bad enough for a normal person, but for the world-renown
Frank Turin . . .”