[Critique Group 1] cleora's june submission

[sitting.duck at springmail.com]

1460 words
Transformed
by sly duck
Cleatta stared at the fuzzy image in the mirror. “Infected” he had said. What was she going to do now? Every time she tried to get rid of the card, it would reappear in her wallet. Now, the white cane the man had given her also stayed with her. Soon she would no longer be able to work as a caregiver. Or, anything else, for that matter. If she continued to use the card, she would eventually go completely blind like the man she got it from. It did appear that if she could get rid of it, her vision would come back. Is that how it worked? Each time she used the card, she lost some vision and the person she took it from gained some vision? When she tried to give the card back, it appeared the old man was able to see now that she had it.
And, there was another wrinkle. When borrowing cards, the charge would go to the person she borrowed the card from. This card now had her name on it. Soon she would be getting a bill for the almost $500 in charges. She put on her glasses. They helped some, but they didn’t correct her vision to 20/20. It was time to go to work. She had Mrs. Gracey today.
As usual, they went grocery shopping.
“Mrs. Gracey, would you mind if I picked up a few things for myself?”
Mrs. Gracey stood silently staring at her for a few seconds before answering. “You mean to pay for yourself instead of just adding them to my basket?”
Cleatta felt her face turning red. She dropped her gaze. “You mean you knew?” she said barely above a whisper.
“Of course. I'm old not blind.”
Cleatta winced at the sound of the word “blind.” “I'm sorry. I...I...I mean...if you knew, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you report me?”
“I guess I should have, but it was always just a few things. A carton of eggs. A bottle of water. Never more than five dollars. You did a good job for me otherwise. Helping me shop, and whatever. I've been using caregivers for a long time. It is rare to find one that will actually do a good job, and, for the most part, they all steal, whether it is in wasted time, or showing up late but logging in in time to get paid from the start of the shift. Taking things. Breaking stuff. You all steal in one way or another. All you did was put a few little things in the basket for me to pay for. I guess I just didn't see the point in reporting it.”
Tears rolled down Cleatta's cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Gracey. I feel so ashamed.”
“What has brought on this sudden change?” Mrs. Gracey wanted to know.
“Oh,” said Cleatta, “just a recent happening with another client.” She wanted to tell Mrs. Gracey about the card, but the whole thing was so fantastic, she knew she wouldn't be believed.
“And, yes, what do you need?” asked Mrs. Gracey. “If it's not a lot, you can just add it to my basket. I'd rather you did that. You're really not supposed to take care of personal business on my time, you know.”
“No,” said Cleatta, “I'll just wait and do my shopping on my way home. It's time I took responsibility.”
Later, at the checkout, Cleatta struggled with the decision of what to do. Did she go ahead and use the card and lose more vision, or write a check on her dwindling bank balance. She decided to write a check.
At home, she considered her situation.
She had resisted using the car today, but what about tomorrow and the next day. At this rate she wouldn't be able to see well enough to work much longer. Her regular income hadn’t been much. Most of it had been unemployment checks. Her disability check wouldn’t even be enough to pay the rent. Now that she knew Mrs. Gracey had known what she was doing all along, she wondered how many of the other clients had known and just not said anything. Up until getting the card, she had only made small purchases that would be likely to escape notice. She had charged almost $500 on the card before trying to return it to the old man. With a chill she realized that if it was a regular card, she could have been prosecuted once the old man got his bill and discovered the charges she had made.
Come to that, the card had her name on it now. He wouldn’t be getting the bill, she would. What would happen if she didn't pay it?
By the end of the second month, Cleatta no longer felt safe driving. The agency had removed her from the roster, and she was in the process of filing for disability. There still hadn't been any bill for the charges she had put on the card.
What if there was never a bill? What if the loss of vision was the payment. Could it be that the victim could live off the card? Her mind raced with the possibilities.
The ophthalmologist put her in touch with organizations to help her learn blind skills. She hadn't been able to master braille. They assured her that that was typical for most people who lost vision later in life. Like the old man, she learned to use a screen reader, found a bank with an accessible website and app, and was remaining mostly independent. She had to rely on her brother for some things, and her family had hired a caregiver for her two afternoons and one morning a week. She didn't tell her family about the card. She didn't tell anyone. She was too embarrassed, and she wasn't sure how they would react. They might have her committed.
Now, there was no choice but to use the card freely. Over time, she learned that the card wouldn't let her charge anything that wasn't a necessity. However, she found she could spend the money from the $200 monthly cash advance limit on anything she wanted. As a retiree, the bank didn't charge her fees if her balance dropped below a certain amount. She put any money left over into a savings account, and over time she was able to build up an impressive balance. Well, impressive to her, she had rarely had more than two pennies to rub together before.
I wonder if left over money disappears if someone takes the card.
After a while, she settled into a routine. Knowing what she knew now, she wondered why the old man had made it easy for her to steal it. Sure, being blind wasn't fun, but free money had its benefits. The blind organization she joined was planning a ski trip. She decided to go. She invited her friend Rachael to come along with her as a sighted guide.
At the ski lodge, Rachael got them checked in and took her up to the room before bringing up the luggage.
Cleatta knew there was something on Rachael's mind. Her friend had hardly spoken since she picked her up. Probably, it was that Cleatta didn't have a job and Rachael was concerned about how she could afford this trip.
“What's going on?” Cleatta prompted when Rachael finally had everything taken care of and settled down for the evening.
“What do you mean?” asked Rachael.
“You've hardly said anything. I know something is on your mind. Are you worried about how I can afford this trip?”
“Ummm, no, not really. It's been a while since we saw each other last. Aren't we about the same age?”
“yes,” said Cleatta. “My birthday is in August and yours is in December. I'm just four months older. Why?”
“Well, I hadn't seen you in a while, but I was surprised to see some gray hairs, and a few wrinkles. I guess going blind is stressful?”
Cleatta was stunned. Grey hairs? She was only 35. It was too early for her to have grey hairs. Wasn't it? She thought about the man she got the card from. How old was he really? Reality dawned. She remembered thinking the last time she saw him that he moved more freely. At the time, she thought it was because he was starting to see better. But, what if aging was another side effect of using the card? She felt cold all over as reality soaked in. That's why he was so eager to get rid of the card.
“Cleatta?” Rachael sounded concerned. “Are you alright?”
“No,” Cleatta whispered. I don't think I'll ever be alright again, she thought.

-------------- next part --------------
1460 words
Transformed
by sly duck

Cleatta stared at the fuzzy image in the mirror. “Infected” he had said. What was she going to do now? Every time she tried to get rid of the card, it would reappear in her wallet. Now, the white cane the man had given her also stayed with her. Soon she would no longer be able to work as a caregiver. Or, anything else, for that matter. If she continued to use the card, she would eventually go completely blind like the man she got it from. It did appear that if she could get rid of it, her vision would come back. Is that how it worked? Each time she used the card, she lost some vision and the person she took it from gained some vision? When she tried to give the card back, it appeared the old man was able to see now that she had it.

And, there was another wrinkle. When borrowing cards, the charge would go to the person she borrowed the card from. This card now had her name on it. Soon she would be getting a bill for the almost $500 in charges. She put on her glasses. They helped some, but they didn’t correct her vision to 20/20. It was time to go to work. She had Mrs. Gracey today. 

As usual, they went grocery shopping.

“Mrs. Gracey, would you mind if I picked up a few things for myself?”

Mrs. Gracey stood silently staring at her for a few seconds before answering. “You mean to pay for yourself instead of just adding them to my basket?”

Cleatta felt her face turning red. She dropped her gaze. “You mean you knew?” she said barely above a whisper.

“Of course. I'm old not blind.”

Cleatta winced at the sound of the word “blind.” “I'm sorry. I...I...I mean...if you knew, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you report me?”

“I guess I should have, but it was always just a few things. A carton of eggs. A bottle of water. Never more than five dollars. You did a good job for me otherwise. Helping me shop, and whatever. I've been using caregivers for a long time. It is rare to find one that will actually do a good job, and, for the most part, they all steal, whether it is in wasted time, or showing up late but logging in in time to get paid from the start of the shift. Taking things. Breaking stuff. You all steal in one way or another. All you did was put a few little things in the basket for me to pay for. I guess I just didn't see the point in reporting it.”

Tears rolled down Cleatta's cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Gracey. I feel so ashamed.”

“What has brought on this sudden change?” Mrs. Gracey wanted to know.

“Oh,” said Cleatta, “just a recent happening with another client.” She wanted to tell Mrs. Gracey about the card, but the whole thing was so fantastic, she knew she wouldn't be believed.

“And, yes, what do you need?” asked Mrs. Gracey. “If it's not a lot, you can just add it to my basket. I'd rather you did that. You're really not supposed to take care of personal business on my time, you know.”

“No,” said Cleatta, “I'll just wait and do my shopping on my way home. It's time I took responsibility.”

Later, at the checkout, Cleatta struggled with the decision of what to do. Did she go ahead and use the card and lose more vision, or write a check on her dwindling bank balance. She decided to write a check.

At home, she considered her situation. 

She had resisted using the car today, but what about tomorrow and the next day. At this rate she wouldn't be able to see well enough to work much longer. Her regular income hadn’t been much. Most of it had been unemployment checks. Her disability check wouldn’t even be enough to pay the rent. Now that she knew Mrs. Gracey had known what she was doing all along, she wondered how many of the other clients had known and just not said anything. Up until getting the card, she had only made small purchases that would be likely to escape notice. She had charged almost $500 on the card before trying to return it to the old man. With a chill she realized that if it was a regular card, she could have been prosecuted once the old man got his bill and discovered the charges she had made.

Come to that, the card had her name on it now. He wouldn’t be getting the bill, she would. What would happen if she didn't pay it?

By the end of the second month, Cleatta no longer felt safe driving. The agency had removed her from the roster, and she was in the process of filing for disability. There still hadn't been any bill for the charges she had put on the card.

What if there was never a bill? What if the loss of vision was the payment. Could it be that the victim could live off the card? Her mind raced with the possibilities. 

The ophthalmologist put her in touch with organizations to help her learn blind skills. She hadn't been able to master braille. They assured her that that was typical for most people who lost vision later in life. Like the old man, she learned to use a screen reader, found a bank with an accessible website and app, and was remaining mostly independent. She had to rely on her brother for some things, and her family had hired a caregiver for her two afternoons and one morning a week. She didn't tell her family about the card. She didn't tell anyone. She was too embarrassed, and she wasn't sure how they would react. They might have her committed.

Now, there was no choice but to use the card freely. Over time, she learned that the card wouldn't let her charge anything that wasn't a necessity. However, she found she could spend the money from the $200 monthly cash advance limit on anything she wanted. As a retiree, the bank didn't charge her fees if her balance dropped below a certain amount. She put any money left over into a savings account, and over time she was able to build up an impressive balance. Well, impressive to her, she had rarely had more than two pennies to rub together before.

I wonder if left over money disappears if someone takes the card. 

After a while, she settled into a routine. Knowing what she knew now, she wondered why the old man had made it easy for her to steal it. Sure, being blind wasn't fun, but free money had its benefits. The blind organization she joined was planning a ski trip. She decided to go. She invited her friend Rachael to come along with her as a sighted guide.

At the ski lodge, Rachael got them checked in and took her up to the room before bringing up the luggage.

Cleatta knew there was something on Rachael's mind. Her friend had hardly spoken since she picked her up. Probably, it was that Cleatta didn't have a job and Rachael was concerned about how she could afford this trip.

“What's going on?” Cleatta prompted when Rachael finally had everything taken care of and settled down for the evening.

“What do you mean?” asked Rachael.

“You've hardly said anything. I know something is on your mind. Are you worried about how I can afford this trip?”

“Ummm, no, not really. It's been a while since we saw each other last. Aren't we about the same age?”

“yes,” said Cleatta. “My birthday is in August and yours is in December. I'm just four months older. Why?”

“Well, I hadn't seen you in a while, but I was surprised to see some gray hairs, and a few wrinkles. I guess going blind is stressful?”

Cleatta was stunned. Grey hairs? She was only 35. It was too early for her to have grey hairs. Wasn't it? She thought about the man she got the card from. How old was he really? Reality dawned. She remembered thinking the last time she saw him that he moved more freely. At the time, she thought it was because he was starting to see better. But, what if aging was another side effect of using the card? She felt cold all over as reality soaked in. That's why he was so eager to get rid of the card.

“Cleatta?” Rachael sounded concerned. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Cleatta whispered. I don't think I'll ever be alright again, she thought.