RP, A Love Story

People with RP very rarely go all out, black out blind. That is a different kind of blindness. Usually, with retinitis pigmentosa, our peripheral vision continues to deteriorate. Our tunnel vision becomes so great that eventually, we are just in one giant, fuzzy tunnel that no pair of glasses will help us out of. Yes, we can see many shapes and colors, but they have no definition. And it is way too easy to sneak up on us.

I had continued working for a while after the diagnosis, but found working for the public more and more difficult. Expectations of me were still the same -- I was still expected to perform the same way as I could before the fuzziness began to really hit me. That simply was not the case. A couple of times, I bumped into people. Walking up to me and me not knowing they were there was a very common occurrence.

I knew it would be rough, but I had my hours cut at work to about 15 hours per week. This enabled me to start getting social security. That certainly did not make up for that wage loss, but it helped pay the bills. Other things started getting cut, though. I cut a lot of streaming services, I started getting cheaper food at the grocery and never ate out.

Vickie knew about these struggles and offered as much help as she could. Of course, I refused to accept money from her. That simply was not to be a thing.

However, she did find that if I was on social security disability, that the insurance would automatically start paying for mom's medical costs. That took a financial load off my mind, because the nursing home was draining mom's bank account like mad.

Vickie also went to my parents' place, worked on it a little bit, hired some guys to work on it a bit more, then helped put the place up for sale. That also helped a lot -- it had been something which had been eating at me for ages, and with her help that worry was pushed from my mind. Hell, she did that in the first week after offering for help, so that was a great thing. "You need to have time to focus more on you, now," she told me.

One evening, she met up with me at my apartment just as I had arrived at home after a long day at work.

She took one look at me. "You need a long, good hug," she told me straight up.

I nodded.

She enveloped me in her arms, holding her close.

Fuck, she felt good.

Fuck, she smelled good.

I cried.

I think it had been the first time I had cried since I was a little girl. I am not sure what started the tears, but once they came they got added to and kept coming and coming. I let out loud, shaking sobs.

The entire time, she help me close to her, holding me, softly stroking me.

It felt fucking good.

After I stopped sobbing, she held her face close to mine, gently pressing her skin onto mine, rubbing my tears from my face onto hers. When she pulled back, I could not tell if her face was wet from my tears or tears of her own.

Fucking brilliant.

Each evening after her work, she came to my apartment. Sometimes she would just stay for a few minutes where we would talk about how my day had been going. Sometimes she would stay until the wee hours of night, helping me with a project, passively teaching me things to help me along. A lot of times, I didn't realize off the bat she was teaching me, but slowly it would dawn on me. I liked her a lot more for that.

"So," she said one night over a box of pizza. "Boys or girls?"

I gulped down my bite. "What?"

"Which do you like more, boys or girls?"

I laughed. "Never really had any luck with either, so neither I guess."

"But if you could have luck with any one of them, would you prefer it be a boy or a girl?"

I shrugged. "Depends on what we are talking about. Are we fucking, or being friends?"

Vickie laughed out loud. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"In case one, you are fucking. In case two, you are friending."

I sighed, taking a bite of the pizza, thinking.

Sex had become a somewhat common topic in our conversations. Not a lot, but maybe it had come along once a week or so. I had found myself becoming much more comfortable talking with her about sex.

"Girls," I finally said.

"For fucking or for friending?"

"Both!" I said with a laugh and a quick bite of the pie.

"Okay...why?"

I shrugged. "I think being with a girl for the first time would be a more tender experience. I mean, we know what we both want, right? we know what we both like. And a girl's not gonna cum in you and get you pregnant!" We both let out a laugh. "And loving..." I shrugged. "I have met some real bitches in my life. But, some of the sweatest souls I have known have been women." I took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "You are one of them," I said quiety.

"Aww!" Vickie walked over and gave me a little hug before returning to her piece of pizza.

"Now, what about you?" I asked.

"What about me what?"

"Boys or girls. For fucking and friending."

She laughed. "Vickie, I have done both. Girls, all the way. All the way."

I leaned forward. "Tell me about them."

She leaned forward and told me.

Her first time with a woman had been in college. I mean, wasn't that true for everyone?

Damn I had wished I had gone to college.

Anyway, she was in her freshman year, rooming with a real terror of a roomie. Girl was rich, a bitch, entitled, spoiled and a slut all rolled into one.

Generally, she treated Vickie like shit, like she was a servant stuck in the same room. "I am going to go into a sorority some day, you absolutely will not," the girl told Vickie in the heat of an argument one night.

One night, the girl came home almost dead drunk. She was in such bad shape, she had stayed at the entrance of the dorm for more than an hour, trying to remember how to get to her first floor room which was three doors down from the hall. When hearing about this, Vickie helped her back to their room and put her to bed, despite having mumbled insults hurled her way.

In the middle of the night, the girl threw up on herself. Vickie cleaned her up, changed her cloths and took her cloths to the laundry room and gave them a good wash.

The next morning, the girl had soiled herself. Vickie again undressed her, took her to the shower, cleaned her up and helped the girl dress. By this time, the other girl was mostly awake, but very quiet.

As Vickie cleaned up their room the rest of the way, the other girl sat in a chair, head down the entire time without saying a word. Then she burst into tears.

Vickie gave her a tight embrace, because that is what Vickie does, letting the girl cry on her shoulder. Finally, it all spilled out: Her father was about to go to prison for tax evasion, her mother had already left the family, the money was about gone, her boyfriend dumped her, she felt terrible about her family because her father had been quoted making racial slurs several times in the local paper, and she was afraid she was about to fail out of school if she didn't get her act together.

"I can help you study," Vickie told her. And she did. For the next couple of weeks, the pair barely left the room, studying all waking hours. If they left the room, it was to study outside. The girl aced midterms and the two parted for winter break.

When they returned, Vickie said it was like she had a different roommate. Her father had been sentenced to prison. The house had been seized, along with almost all of her possessions. Her mother let her stay at her place -- it was a much more humble abode, but it was happier, more comfortable. She said her mother seemed more loving, more caring without her father around.

When they returned from break, the two spend days simply talking to each other, talking about hopes and dreams and past successes and past failures. The girl had changed her major -- she was not in human resources. She wanted to help people. Watching her own life fall apart made her realize that, even with her tough times, there were those much worse off than she. She wanted to help those in need any way she could.

Vickie could see the change in the girl and was surprised by the change. She had turned from being one of the biggest bitches around to being a very caring, tender woman. She joined some clubs around campus which helped other students in need and went into the community, helping others in need. She would get home exhausted, but happy. And even with all of those extra activities, her grades did not suffer.

One night, Vickie said, the girl crawled into the bed with her, cuddling up behind her. She held onto Vickie tight, spooning her behind, hugging her. She planted a very small kiss on Vickie's cheek, whispering "Thank you," in her ear.

Vickie turned and looked in the girl's eyes. "For what?"

"If you had not helped me that night, that morning, if you had not let me cry on your shoulder, I think I would have been lost forever."

Vickie kept looking in her eyes, smiled and returned with a small kiss on the girl's cheek. "You are very welcome."

The pair looked each other in the eyes, the girl still holding onto Vickie tight from behind.

And, Vickie said, that was all that was needed. She said her mind had seemed to have exploded into a million different thoughts as the lips of the two girls met, exchanging passionate kisses.

The girl had pulled away, pulling her nightshirt over her head, sitting in the bed naked before Vickie. Vickie pulled off her own night shirt. They kissed again, this time even more passionately.

Before she realized it, Vickie said the girl was between her legs, eating her with a passion and tenderness she had never felt before. The orgasm she experience was almost instintanious and immense. The girl persisted, bringing Vickie to another orgasm.

Vickie flipped the girl around, passionately eating her. She had never been with another woman before, but damn it was she enjoying this one. She said it was only minutes before the other girl erupted in her own orgasm.

"Really, I had no idea what I was doing," Vickie told me at one point in the story. "But I did to her what I wanted done to me. It worked!"

For an hour that night, the pair made love before falling asleep in each others' arms.

When they awoke the next morning, the mood very quickly went from slight disorientation and confusion to soft kisses to more passionate love making. Vickie said the pair did not get out of bed that day, exploring each others' bodies and wants and desires and pleasures.

Almost instantly, the two became lovers. They continued to urge each other through their studies, working diligently to keep their grades up. Vickie joined the girl in community work.

And almost every night, they would make love.

Vickie said the other girl was a tender, generous lover. Vickie said she tried to do the same.

Before the next school year begun, the other girl had been accepted by a larger school. The pair got together one more time after a long summer apart, vowing to keep in touch.

They did. Still to this day, Vickie said she talks to the girl at least once a month on the phone, trade texts constantly. That other woman is married now, to a man, with a couple of kids. She works for a company that builds or fixes housing for lower income and homeless.

Vickie let out a long sigh after the story.

"So, that was the story my first time having sex, and my first lover," she said with a satisfied smile.

Vickie did a lot of little things and a lot of big things to help me out. She would take me to the grocery, sometimes simply get my groceries for me once she knew what I liked. I paid for them, of course.

"You might not need to know this stuff right now, it might seem questionable right now -- but you might need it in the future," Vickie told me one day when she took me to a cane using class.

I never knew there was such a thing as a cane using class. I am not sure if it was an official one or anything, but it was something that ended up being very usual. And pretty sad to think about.

Going down steps are second nature to most people. But to those of us with RP, they can be frustrating. One, we don't see them a lot of times until they are there. Two, steps have a tendency to blend in with each other. Unless there is some caution paint on the edges, sometimes they just look like one big set of concrete or whatever they are made of. And if we are not careful and don't see it, we can try taking an extra step when there is no step and fall flat on our faces. Falling off the bottom of the steps is no fun!

Crowded places are like a horror show. So many people just zip along, cut in front of others, stop suddenly. I tend to shy away from crowded places natural and began to wonder if perhaps it was because of my eyesight or because of my dislike of people. Maybe both. Probably both.

Vickie helped me manuver through those crowds. A lot of times, she would guide me through a festival without obviously being my guide. The best way was to walk just a little bit in front of me and to the side, so she could see me and I could see her, but if she stopped too quickly or anything, I did not bump into her. Granted, a little impersonal, but effective.

Some times, she would set me loose alone in a crowd with my cane, watching from a distance, giving little bits of advice.

Other times, she would simply hold my hand and walk with me through the crowd. I actually really liked holding her hand.

She also got me an online braille class, along with a braille reader and even some braille books. The first thing I read in braille was The Raven. The second was 1984. Pretty big leap there, and it took me a while to get through both. But, eventually, I learned and managed.

Audio books were another suggestion of hers. I got a few. She also helped me with my settings for my phone, my desktop and my Kindle. It is amazing the features for the blind that those devices have that so many of us don't know about. Once we need them, sometimes ways to find those settings are not so obvious. But, once I found them, they made life so much easier!

One evening, she tried an experiment. I had been teaching myself to cook for a few months now, with her help. I had also picked up a lot of hints from online. I could make a mean pasta dish with just pasta, salt, tomato and garlic.

Anyhow, one evening at my place, she had me cook us diner -- blindfolded.

"I know," she told me. "You will most likely never go all out, black out blind. But there will be times when things are so fuzzy you might not be able to make them out. If you teach yourself this, manevering around those fuzzy items won't be so hard."

So, I prepped a pasta meal blindfolded. I chopped up tomatos, onion, garlic and bell pepper blindfolded. I made the sauce in a skillet blind folded. I even got some extra salted pasta water for the sauce blindfolded, then dumped the rest of the water in the sink, blindfolded. I think I did a pretty damn good job.

Near the end, I was getting ready to add a little cream cheese to the sauce pan and thought I was doing pretty good.

"Hold on, Monica," she said softly. "Let me help."

She pressed herself into my back, taking both of my hands gently. The left, she used to very gently touch the side of the sauce pan, to see where it was, just enough to not burn. With the other hand, she guided my hand with the cheese into the pan. For a few moments, we stood in the kitchen in silence, her holding me, holding my hands, mixing the sauce.

She smelled spectacular.

She gave me a tight hug and a playful kiss in my hair. "You are doing so good!" she said. I could tell from the tone of her voice, the compliment was a genuine compliment. That felt good.

The pasta meal was also one of the best I had ever made. All blindfolded. I was very proud of myself.

She showed me other little things, some of which surprised me.

One night, she drove me out to a spot in the country. When we got out of the car, it was pitch black to me. She pulled a flashlight out of her car and shone it towards our destination, a grassy patch a few feet from the car.

"Didn't know you could carry the sun in one of those things," I said.

She chuckled. "I keep meaning to get you one for one of your early morning runs."

When we got to where she wanted us to get to, she lay the flashlight on the ground, spread out a huge blanket on the ground, and turned off the flashlight. Grabbing my hand, she lay me down on the blanket, facing up. Then she pulled her phone out and began navigating through some apps.

"Have you even seen the stars, Monica."

"You know I am a space nut! I've seen hundreds of pictures."

"No, I mean have you ever lay on the ground like we are, looked into the sky and seen the stars?"

I looked up and tried to focus. I could see a couple of faint points of light here and there. It was a moonless night.

"Let your eyes adjust," she said.

We waited for a few minutes. More stars started to come into focus. We were in one of the darkest areas in the county, there was not a light for more than a mile away. But, really, I could not see a whole lot of stars.

I told her so.

"Here," she said. "Look through this."

I looked at her phone. It showed thousands, hundreds of thousands of stars. I moved the phone a little bit, and the view changed. I realized I was looking at a real time representation of the sky, one which let me see those millions of points of light.

"Woah!" I gasped.

"Isn't that something?" she asked.

"Do you need to see this?" I asked, holding the camera towards her.

"No, I can see everything just fine, Monica. This is for you. I will install the app on your phone when we get back to my place."

"And this is what you see at night?"

"On a clear night where there is little light, yes."

I moved it over the sky. I could see the band of the Milky Way, see how it was literally the view of our galaxy from edge on. A click of a button on the side and names and drawings of constillations appeared. I could see all of the stars of Orion, of Big and Little Bear. I could see Andromeda.

I gave her a little kiss on her cheek.

Vickie laughed.

"Monica, I think that is one of the biggest displays of affection you have ever shown me!"

When we got to her place, as promised, she installed the app in my phone. The next night, I went out on her porch, again looking at the sky. I did that for several nights in a row. She took me out to that spot a few times, out in the country, where we both lay on the blanket together, looking at the sky, she with her naked eye, me with my phone.

Not everything was a teaching moment, and there were sometimes when I helped her discover a few things.

One morning, we went out for a long run. We went for a good 10 miles this time.

After we were done, I noticed Vickie was walking a little bit tenderly.

"I have some pretty good chaffing going on in the hoo-ha area," she said.

I nodded, understanding.

She asked me what I used, and I told her simple roll-on deodorant worked quite well for me. This surprised her, but she said she would try it sometime.

"But...what about the patch?" she asked.

"The...patch," I asked, a bit confused.

She cleared her throat. "Doesn't your pubic hair cause a lot of chaffing?"

I giggled. "Oh, hell no. I don't have any."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that an affect of RP I am not aware of?"

I burst out laughing. She joined in. When we settled down, I explained to her that I shaved.

"Completely?" she asked.

"Bald as Howie Mandel," I said.

"Wow," she said, and paused. "I never really thought of you as someone who did something like that."

"I am full of surprises," I answered.

***********************************************************************************

One night, as we lay on the blanket looking at the starry sky. There was a full moon that night, but Vickie said she could focus on some parts of the sky and see just fine. Me, meanwhile, had absolutely no problems with the app, which diluted the glare of the moon.