She rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into the water. It would be so easy to dip below the water and just not come back up. Her mother had done essentially the same. All the anxiety, fear, and anger would wash away. So easy. So tempting.

And if she did end it, what would happen to Avery? Would her sister stay clean? Or would she fall apart and end up on the streets again. How many times had Jordan railed against her mother for leaving them?

She sat up, wiped the water from her face, and gingerly rose out of the tub. She grabbed the towel Avery had laid out for her and dried off and dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt, also chosen for her by her sister. She ran a comb through her hair, careful to avoid her incision.

As Jordan slowly moved down the hallway, the front doorbell rang, and Avery, who was more cheerful than she had ever been in her entire life, hurried to answer it. “Hey, come on in.” Avery turned to Jordan. “Sally is here.”

Like it or not, her life without vision was racing toward her at full steam. “Hey, Sally.”

“I live close by and thought I’d check in.” Footsteps crossed the bare hardwood floor. “Are you getting settled in?”

“I’ve barely left the couch. Avery voice activated my phone, but so far practice has not made perfect. I’m lost. And pissed.”

“Which is about right at this stage of the game,” Sally said. “Losing your sight is like a death. You’re grieving.”

“I’m still holding out hope for my sight.”

Several plastic bags rustled. “Well, hope is a good thing. But until it pans out, I’m here to teach you how to live your life. You can’t spend forever on a couch.”

“Technically, I could,” Jordan said. “What’s in the bag?”

“More cards you left behind in the room.”

“Don’t need them.”

“I’m sure they’re very touching. It’s always good to know when people care.”

“More psychology?”

“It’s only the first of many tools in my tool kit,” Sally said. “There’s also guilt, shame, and peer pressure.”

Her straightforward honesty softened Jordan’s resistance. “Sally, this really sucks.”

“I know it does. But you’re a fighter, Jordan. I can see it in your demeanor.”

“I wasn’t counting on this fight.”

“We rarely count on the ones we’re forced to face.”

Jordan shoved out a sigh. “So, now what?”

“First, we’re going to practice more with your white cane. It’ll be your ticket off the couch and around your house. And after that, it’ll get you to the curb, into an Uber, and around downtown Austin.”

“For what purpose?”