Page 94 of Champagne Nights

“Hi, Aubrey. Are you ready?”

I took in a long, deep breath as I tried to control my racing heart.

“I think so.”

He raised the back of the bed, so I was sitting straight up. I felt his hand start to unwrap the bandages, and my palms began to sweat.

“You okay?” Ethan asked as he held my sweaty palm.

“I’m okay.”

“Now I’m going to remove the metal plates from your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them. Okay, Aubrey, slowly, and I mean slowly, open your eyes.”

I swallowed hard first and then carefully opened my eyes. A swoosh of light fell over me, and instantly, I closed them tight.

“Aubrey, what’s wrong?” Dr. Marchetti asked.

“The light. I saw the light, and it kind of freaked me out.”

“That’s understandable. Your eyes may hurt for a moment while they adjust. Try it again, but very slowly.”

Ethan’s grip on my hand tightened as I slowly opened my eyes and stared straight ahead. I gulped as I saw black-and-white outlines of people and shadows. I slowly turned my head towards Ethan, and my eyes filled with tears as I saw him for the first time. The outline of his face was a blurred shadow, but not so blurry that I couldn’t make out his features. A tear fell from my eye as I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek, and a smile graced his beautiful face.

“I love your smile.”

“Everyone out. Let’s give them a few moments alone,” Dr. Marchetti spoke.

Ethan swallowed hard as he sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at me as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. A tear fell from his eye, and I gently wiped it away.

“You saw that?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see, Aubrey? I mean, really see?”

“Not fully. I see shadows, outlines, and some colors, like your blue shirt.”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him.

“My God, this is a miracle. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Dr. Marchetti and his team walked back in and approached me.

“How many doctors are in the room, Aubrey?” he asked.

“Including you?”

“Yes. Including me.” He smiled.

“Six.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

He walked away from the bed and over to the door.

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