Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  The edger began its dance, the mechanical arm that held the lens, positioning itself to bring the lens blank down against the grinding wheel. As the lens began its precise movements, the small back lab was filled with the raucous sound.

  When she turned around, Evie ran smack into the vast expanse of Connie’s chest.

  There was little space in the lab between the wall and the worktop with the machines, and the man had her pressed in close. Evie wanted to rebuke the lying creep for scaring the piss out of her, when she remembered, with alarm, that he would be signing her paychecks.

  Connie’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, his expression stony and grim. Evie had remembered thinking that for the size of this man, he could not seem less menacing. He now proved that notion very, very, wrong. He could be exceedingly intimidating.

  The man lent forward towards her, his voice loud enough that she could hear him over the edger, but low enough that the grinding was the perfect cover. “We’ve. Never. Met.” he entreated, his voice forcefully enunciating each word as though it were its own sentence, in his deep timbre.

  Evie knew she shouldn’t be shocked. Yet she felt her chest begin to ache as her heart skipped a beat. Did he want to erase their previous engagements completely? Just act like nothing had happened between them? Did he think that she would honestly say something to implicate that they had recent history to his wife, Mara? The redhead needed a paycheck, and it seemed as though Mara was as much a part of that process as he was. Evie was not dumb enough to brag to the doctor that she had inadvertently slept with her husband.

  Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, funny coincidence. I met your husband at a pub and, well, had the time of my life out on the old town, before shacking up with him. Your husband really knows how to show a girl a good time.

  Connie was crazy. Or more likely paranoid about getting caught. Either way, Evie wanted to reinforce that she was neither stupid nor naïve.

  “Dido.” she volleyed back, unable to dampen the disgust in her tone.

  Evie tried to turn away from the Scot, but a firm hand caught her bicep. Connie bent in further. The proximity was intense. His breath ghosted tantalizingly over the lobe of her ear and the skin of her neck, and like an addict, her body betrayed her. She could feel her belly knot as her cheeks grew hot.

  Dammit! Why does he have to be so damn good-looking?!

  The Scot reinforced his point, “Mara cannot find out. Ever.”

  This confirmed her suspicions. Definitely not his sister. Wife then. Even better…my career is over.

  The larger man lingered in the position longer than necessary, his long curls brushing over her neck and the shoulder of her blouse. He must have wanted to say more and finally reasoned that there was no point. He straightened, their eyes meeting once more, searching one another as his hand still held her arm.

  The girl felt her teeth gnashing her bottom lip again as she tried to read past his harsh expression and the command to keep quiet. Then he dropped her like arm like she was scalding to the touch. He spun around without another word, escaping through an exit door.

  The edger finished its grinding song and opened its bay.

  Good riddance!

  Evie returned to her task, retrieving the cut lens. She feathered it quickly on another wheel, and then snapped it into the plastic frame, before starting on the second one. Fueled by indignant rage, she rushed through the work and finished all the trays by the time Mara came out of her office.

  The optometrist announced that she was leaving, and produced a set of keys for the store. They briefly went through closing procedures and then Evie was left on her own.

  Her walk home after closing for the day was hurried. Evie was hungry and drained. She gave Serena a perfunctory greeting and jumped straight into a hot shower, hoping to scald off all the shame that she could feel clinging to her skin like a cold, damp sweat.

  Lingering under the water was a mistake. Even though Evie had sworn off thinking about the Scot, somehow, the heat of the water always brought back the phantom recollection of his wide-palmed caresses over her curves. She proved to be even more of a fool, for once he was there, she allowed him to stay. Evie indulged in the pleasure of sharing this space with him—revelling in the way it had been before the Gaelic god was her boss.

  If either of them had gone by their full names, they could have avoided this whole shemozzle. If either of them had taken the time to fill the other one in on a bit of their past, they could have put things into perspective before ruining it all. If only, if only…

  There was no room for that thought.

  Evie finished washing before jumping out. She loosely braided her wet hair and, having nothing else comfier to wear, she begrudgingly pulled on her jeans and tee.

  When she came out, sans-makeup and a bra, she was greeted by Serena’s returning house guests. Evie crossed her arms and scurried out of view into the kitchen.

  “Damn, Red,” Serena crassly called to her, as she flipped a half-fried chicken breast in a pan on a small electric burner, “it’s not even eight, and you’re already let’n the girls loose? I can’t tell if yer headed to bed or heading out to bag yerself a bloke.”

  “For the record,” Evie supplied, as she opened the fridge. “I’m taking a break from men.”

  “Whoa, a break? Sounds serious.”

  “Seriously messed up.”

  The redhead reached in to grab out a bowl of prepared salad. Her body was screaming for chocolate, but Evie resisted.

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” her flatmate demanded loudly, one hand on her hip.

  Evie sighed heavily. She knew that she shouldn’t.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Serena prodded, adding with a horrifying accuracy, “did ya go and shag yer boss or something?”

  Evie froze. She felt her face blanch. Her flatmate’s eyes went white for a terribly drawn-out moment of utter silence.

  Serena burst into a hysterical cackle. Evie felt a smile crack her face despite her mortification, and a chuckle came out of her. They laughed together, Serena jumping in place.

  “No, you didnae! Tell me you didnae, Red!”

  Evie nodded, a thin-lipped smile on her face. “Oh, regretfully, I very much did.”

  “Shut yer geggie!” Serena tittered, wiping tears from under her eyes.

  Noticing that the chicken was making its way from golden to black, Serena forked the breast out onto a cutting board. She sliced it and nodded at Evie, “Grab another bowl for me, and we’ll split both.”

  The flatmates topped their salads generously and then settled on the couch together to watch some reality crime shows. Halfway through their bowls and the first show, Serena went back to comment on Evie’s admission, “That’s well radge. That oughta make things interestin’ at work.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Evie said around a mouthful, “I mean, it was unintentional…I didn’t know any of this at the time—but it would be super nice to just go back and erase everything. Worst first day ever! And to top it all off, because I’m just completely ruining my career, turns out he’s married.”

  “There’s a wife? Yer a chancer.”

  “Also…she’s the optometrist so…” the redhead had trouble finishing that answer, “she’s my other boss.”

  Serena threw her back, breaking into raucous laughter once more. Evie snorted a chuckle. It felt shamefully good to be laughing about all this right now instead of internally freaking out.

  “Again, I didn’t know any of this,” Evie felt the need to repeat, “but now I have to deal with it, and it’s only going to get more awkward.”

  They finished off their supper and another two shows, making casual conversation about their weekend plans during the commercial breaks. Evie would be working Saturdays and would receive Mondays off in return. Serena had made plans to go out Saturday evening with some friends for wings at a local pub and invited Evie to come along.

  The redhead wasn’t sure she was up for more drinking, seeing the trouble it h
ad gotten her into thus far. Yet it was hard to turn the bubbly girl down when she employed a pouting puppy-dog look, with her full lips and large brown eyes. Evie relented and agreed to tag along, rewarded with a jubilant fist pump.

  Then they washed the dishes together while watching celebrities being teased on a late-night show.

  “Ah, Blake Carter’s got another movie coming out!” Serena gushed, gesturing at the screen.

  The actor and host were sharing an ongoing gag with other famous guests. Evie had seen many of his movies but was surprised to hear him speaking candidly with a Scottish accent.

  “I didn’t realize he was Scottish,” Evie said.

  “Och, yeah!” Serena answered, “He has one of the best American accents. Most people just assume he is.”

  “I love his movies,”

  “Me too!” Serena gushed, “He’s so adorable.”

  They finished up and then headed to bed. As Serena rolled over to face the wall, Evie heard her phone vibrate on the nightstand. She grabbed the device, switching it to night-mode. A banner showed a message from Andy.

  A.W. – How was your first day? Rocked it, I have no doubt.

  Evie typed a quick response.

  E.M. – Rocked it:P Why aren’t you sleeping?

  A message came right back.

  A.W. – Sleeping is for the weak. Why aren’t you sleeping? Still thinking about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?

  Evie stifled a snort of laughter at the moniker that fit Connie perfectly.

  E.M. – Turns out, Mr. TDH is my boss.

  The three dots danced at the bottom of her screen, indicating that Andy was either typing a long message or laughing too hard to finish typing. Finally, a text bubble popped up.

  A.W. – Haha and you said that you were applying for a job, not a boyfriend.

  Evie crinkled her nose and pursed her lips as she tried to think of a witty way to rebuke him. She didn’t get the chance.

  A.W. – That’s awkward.

  E.M. –It’s worse than awkward. The optometrist is his wife.

  A.W. – His wife?!

  Then another snappy text came in.

  A.W. - He must be so whipped!

  Evie wasn’t sure where the connection was there and sought clarification.

  A.W. – Isn’t it obvious? She has the degree, makes the money, so she wears the pants. What does Mr. TDH do at the shop? Is he an optician like you?

  The redhead couldn’t deny that Mara’s degree would lend to her having the most control over the business, but Connie had hired her. Then again, Connie had been at the store for less than twenty minutes. It didn’t make sense that he was a dispensing optician. The couple wouldn’t need anyone else if that was the case, especially given the state of the books. Evie messaged him with this answer.

  A.W. – No wonder he’s looking elsewhere. She’s probably a control freak. Was he wearing a leash? I heard that’s a thing.

  Evie wasn’t sure that blithely labelling her employers would help solve anything, but the visual her imagination manifested was entertaining. As a yawn caught her off guard, she quickly typed back.

  E.M. – It’s late. I have to catch some Zs. If you haven’t slept yet, go to bed.

  A.W. – Cop out!

  E.M. – Go. To. Bed.

  A.W. – Have a great day tomorrow luv :P

  ◆◆◆

  Evie came to understand very quickly that she had been brought in to run the show. Neither of her employers had an interest in being at the store. Mara came in for a few hours 3-4 times a week for exams. However, most of this time was spent on personal calls or playing Sweetie-Slam due to a lack of bookings. Connie was almost non-existent. The Scot more or less breezed through the dispensary, never stopping to chit-chat or even announce his presence. He was like a ghost. He took every advantage to scare the piss out of Evie, appearing where she least expected him. Both limited their interaction with their dispensing optician as much as possible.

  On the whole, Evie didn’t mind. It was easier than dancing between the two of them, whom she had come to suspect, were not living so happily ever after.

  In fact, they appeared terminally at odds with one another. They didn’t fight, but only because they were never in the store at the same time to have an argument. Connie wasn’t really talking to Evie either, so it was hard to form an opinion on exactly how he felt about his wife, but Mara had made it very clear that she did not hold her husband in high regard. She was a snipe-master, tossing out snide comments about Connie that were always severe and twisted.

  Evie tried to ignore all of it and just focus on doing her job.

  On Evie’s first exam day with Dr. Sinclair, she saw a dismal four patients within the four-hour schedule window. Two of them were middle-aged and were just starting to struggle with reading fine print. Evie managed to find the woman a nice fitting metal half-frame, which led to a sale. The man, who was startled with the recommended need for a pair of spectacles, was in too much shock to purchase. He left with only a perfunctory glance at the frame boards, not ready to admit that his age and reading-intensive work-life had finally caught up to him.

  The last two exams were children who did not require a prescription yet. They left the dispensary whining to their parents that they hadn’t received a special treat after their exams, loudly voicing that the last place had given them the selection of a cheap toy for their cooperation.

  Mara met these complaints with all the grace of an ox, contemptuously commenting that the children needed to improve their manners. The father was quick to usher them out of the store. The optometrist even went as far as to criticize afterward to Evie about the parenting skills, or as she put it, the lack thereof. The optician refrained from commenting on the topic.

  At least they had a sale on the books, even if the day had been mostly a bust.

  The next exam day was similar. Dr. Sinclair saw two contact lens patients, one new-wearer, who needed to be fit for lenses and trained how to put them in and, the harder part, retrieve them back out again. The man insisted this be accomplished in one appointment, regardless of his success, so that he could attend a wedding the following day, sans glasses for bridezilla and the photographer.

  The second, a teen girl, was what Mara referred to repugnantly as a ‘numpty’ and ‘cakey’—both of which Evie had to Google afterword to understand. The terminology was not flattering, to say the least.

  The optician was shocked by the optometrist’s decorum. Evie had been trained by the strait-laced Dr. Reynolds, who had upheld a very formal convention when it came to the treatment of his patients. They were, after all, the backbone of any thriving practice. It was becoming more and more clear why there were few appointments booked and, consequentially, why the budget was suffering.

  By Saturday, the girl was convinced that Dr. Mara Sinclair was a narcissist, complicated by a severe case of doctor-god-complex. Now, Evie wasn’t a labeller, the woman proved this by getting into a verbal altercation with an elderly patient.

  It was over the silliest thing too, a misunderstanding about a poorly delivered eye health diagnosis—utterly Mara’s fault and completely avoidable. Evie could not believe the level of Mara’s voice, the severity of her tone, or the harshness of her words, as she reiterated what she had failed to communicate in the first place to the senior, who was hard of hearing.

  The man had called her out on her aggressive response to his confusion, and the argument had escalated from there. It ended with the man threatening to never return and take his complaints about her lack of professionalism to social media via a grandson who was apparently an internet-wizard.

  Thankfully there had been no other patients in the store at the time. Evie had stood traumatized behind the reception desk as the eighty-six-year-old man shuffled out of the store with his walker, cursing loudly, “Awa’ n bile yer heid!”

  This was crowned off by Connie, who burst out in a knee-slapping sarcastic guffaw—blatantly mocking his wife. Mara responded in kind,
flipping Connie the finger, before storming back into her office. The optometrist didn’t come out again until she was done seeing the rest of her patients, all three of them, and then she left the store in a furious flurry of slammed doors.

  Evie was helping the last patient pick out some ‘like John Lennon’ glasses when she left. The tension in the air was like swimming through pea soup. It lifted slightly with her exit. The optician was then able to focus on the young woman, who sneered at her reflection in the mirror, disappointedly realizing a thin round wireframe did not flatter her rounded features.

  The redhead was able to help her into a much more flattering metal frame that slimmed her face and accentuated the arch in her lovely brows, and the girl purchased, excited to return in a week and pick them up. When she was gone, the store was quiet once more, and Evie gave a great sigh.

  The reception desk had become cluttered throughout the day, work orders and half started patient trays piling up in an unkempt splay. Thankfully, when Connie had designed the place, he had thought to obscure this mess from the public by creating a bar height top to separate the work and keep the mess of private orders confidential.

  Evie began to sort through them, organizing the trays into a lineup, starting with the ones that were closest to being ready for ordering. She still needed to process the paperwork for the purchases and then do the manual orders for lenses.

  It had proven difficult to keep up to even the moderate pace of the patients coming out of the office when she was still getting used to the office’s procedures and was the only one willing to help them. Mara refused to do more than her examinations and Evie suspected that Connie had just shown up to ridicule her if the chance arose. Otherwise, he stayed towards the back of the store, sipping a cup of coffee and looking smug. He looked more like a piece of the décor than the store’s owner.

  It had served to agitate Evie more than she already was. He just watched as she scrambled to keep up with learning new Scottish lingo, and, to her chagrin, he had only offered to make a distinction once when it was to embarrass her.