The Eye Examination

Anne sat, shoulder-hunched, in the lobby of the Eye Doctor. Tall and lanky, she seemed folded in on herself like a deck chair, her big eyes roving the gentle gray and blue islands of empty chairs and side tables. She had never been to the Eye Doctor before. It had never occurred to her parents or to her that she should come. But when the letter came, just before her 17th birthday, she made an appointment for the examination. 

Softly, she was ushered into a small room and sat in a tall chair. The doctor entered and placed a Halloween mask of lenses and levers before her face. He showed her arcane words in clean print and asked her for a definitive answer. “This one, or that one?” She hesitated each time between the identical twins, answered, “This one,” or “That one.” The light flipped on. In his lifeless, pragmatic voice the doctor assured her that her pupils and her corneas were healthy, perfectly fine, unusually clear. He shook her hand firmly, led her out and to a chair in a small cubicle, and told her a technician would be with her shortly. 

The walls of this cubicle were like Ezekiel’s vision handicapped. Thousands of blind eyes stared down at her, the rims shining in the light in a rainbow of color, the lenses blinking slowly as she turned her head to examine one wall, then the other.

A woman swept in. She was slightly overweight, dressed in a tight-fitting, low-cut blouse. She smiled widely behind shapely, apple-red glasses. “I’m Jennifer. I’ll help you pick out your glasses today.”

Anne opened her mouth, a bit like a fish, as she pondered this. “The doctor said I have excellent eyesight.”  

“That’s true. Better than 20/20, apparently.”

“Then I don’t need glasses.” It was a Schroedinger’s sentence, both a statement and a question.

“Of course you do. The examination is merely a formality.”

Anne looked down at her hands as if she would find understanding in her lap. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, darling, has no one told you?”

Anne was not always the first to understand things. Her classmates thought this was because Anne still stared at the clouds and talked to stuffed animals, while they were reading articles on how to be real women.

“I guess not,” she said, glancing shyly at Jennifer’s beautiful, glossy frames.

“Glasses aren’t for seeing, dear. They’re for appearing. Take these for example.” She took down a pair of deep black frames that held wide full moons of glass. “I like to call these Serious Anime Schoolgirl.” She exchanged her apple glasses; the transformation was remarkable. “What do you see?”

“They look very nice,” Anne said.

Jennifer appeared more withdrawn, more studious, more timid, like a librarian turning 14. It confused Anne, because Jennifer held herself with certainty.

“Yes, you would like those.” Jennifer next chose a bright pink pair with narrow, letterbox lenses. “Tell me truthfully, how do I look?”

“Like you’re trying to have fun or trying to be smart. Or both.”

“Hmm.” Jennifer took the pink frames off, placing the apple ones back as she studied them. “That’s disappointing. Older women give off that vibe, sometimes when wearing these.”

“I didn’t mean anything.”

“Never mind. How about these?”

Jennifer removed the apple glasses again and settled a thin silver frame that covered only the upper curve of the lens on her nose. Anne sat up straight under her piercing gaze.

“You understand, now, don’t you?” Jennifer said. “Haven’t you noticed all your friends wear them? Your own vision doesn’t matter. You only have two eyes. But the world has billions. You’re almost a woman. You need to decide how people are going to see you.”

Anne gazed at all the frames gazing back at her. “Maybe they can just look at me.”

Jennifer smiled. Beneath those silver rims, it was the condescension of a great intellect. “Do you know that the eyes are the window to the soul? Socks, toes, no one cares about except your own cold feet. Hands, gloves, arms, just attachments for doing things. Legs, hips, all the rest we dress up nice, just window dressing, so to speak for what’s here.” She pointed to her blue pupils. “Give them all the flesh you want, that’s up to you But the soul, you don’t want to let that go around naked. That’s the first sin, right there. Keep it safe, keep it hidden.”

Anne lowered her head and thought. She thought for some time, and Jennifer let her, choosing a half dozen pairs she thought would be to Anne’s advantage.

Anne raised her head.

“Which would you like to try first?” Jennifer asked. 

“Give me the ones you’re wearing.”

Jennifer blinked. “Bold. Good choice.” She removed them and started to put on her apple ones.

“Wait,” Anne said. 

Jennifer hesitated, her red frames in one hand, the silver ones extended to Anne in the other.

“Look at me,” Anne said.

Jennifer did look, caught off guard by Anne’s demand. 

Anne’s eyes were brown, with a hint of green, and they looked at Jennifer with innocence, with a spark of boldness, with timidity flashing there.

“Why do you look scared?” Anne asked.

Jennifer smashed the apple-red glasses onto her face. She seemed cheery and self-confident and fun. “Here. Try the silver ones on.”

Anne stood. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”

She hesitated, muttered, “Sorry,” and headed out.