Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  “But, enough about me, what about you, Evie?” Becca finished, swinging the conversation over to the newbie, “You haven’t said boo all night.”

  The man to her other side took this opportunity to saddle a bit closer. Evie felt like she had just been thrown under a bus, and now her corpse was being gawked at. Shyly, she laughed off the invitation to speak, “I haven’t got much to tell.”

  “Well, then,” the voluptuous Finn countered, replying slyly, “Serena’s told me that you’ve just landed. What brought you to Scotland? Adventure?” She wiggled her arching brows over top of round cat-eye frames, gesturing to the impromptu date at the redhead’s side, as she teased, “Romance?”

  Evie laughed uneasily, scooching an inch away from the man in question, as this complete stranger had hit the last nail in her coffin. Evie had come for both those things and found them in ready order—just not how she had imagined she might. Having it called out so blatantly made her uncomfortable. She chose to deflect, with a quickly parried, “Oh, I’m too boring for any of that.”

  Serena gaped at her with an incredulous harrumph. “Boring? That doesn’t exactly describe your work situation.”

  Evie knocked her flatmate’s knee hard with her own, giving the girl dagger-eyes.

  It was too late. Becca was on the scent.

  “Ooo, sounds interesting enough,” the other girl purred, “What do you do for work?”

  Evie unclenched her teeth, not wanting to appear rude. Seeing as Becca had just regaled them with a plethora of her work tales, it couldn’t hurt to answer a few questions. “I’m an optician.”

  “Wow.” Said Becca, adjusting the glasses on her nose, “I need a new prescription, I should come to see you for an exam.”

  “No,” Evie sighed, correcting the mistake, “I’m a dispensing optician.”

  “What’s that, then?” Harry asked.

  “I’m like a pharmacist is for a doctor. I take the prescription, and I make the glasses.”

  “Ahhhhhh,” was the mutual response from those that had been confused.

  As the conversation between the girls transitioned towards the latest frame fashions, Harry’s hand squeezed her thigh. Startled and slightly irked by the man’s growing gall, she inched even further away, as he drunkenly leered at her. Evie certainly didn’t feel comfortable anymore. The man just did not seem to want to take the hint. A minute later, she felt moist fingers on her leg again, this time with the audacity to not merely squeeze but outright grope.

  The redhead discreetly plucked the hand up underneath the table and tossed it aside. It wasn’t two seconds later that Harry was back, plastered against her side. His arm snaked down from the loftier height of the booth to capture her shoulders, as the slick palm returned with a vengeance. His fingers boldly slid up her thigh, not showing any heed to stop. Evie was having none of it.

  This time, she wriggled out of his embrace and placed a flat palm on his chest, shoving him away. “No,” was all she shouted, an accusing finger at his nose.

  “Evie?” Serena questioned in concern, glancing between the two of them suspiciously. Seeing the anger on her flatmate’s features, the girl’s head swivelled to the man she had brought with her, demanding, “Are ya aff yer head? Leave off the lass!”

  Harry was pissed. He worked his way out of the booth, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath as he took off through the crowd towards the restrooms.

  Serena put a protective arm around Evie’s waist, apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Red. It was a bad idea. Forget the bawbag and have another pint.”

  Serena bought another round for the rude interruption in what had otherwise been an enjoyable evening. They talked for another hour, sharing more stories, talking travel, and mostly laughing. Evie was growing fond of Serena and her exuberance, and Becca was kind and funny. It made for a great distraction from everything else. Her mind shut off for a few hours and relaxed.

  The ska-punk band was still wailing away on the stage when Evie yawned. She checked the time on her phone to see that Andy had been texting her. With her phone on vibrate, Evie had missed the messages requesting a text date while watching their favourite show. She quickly returned a message.

  E.W. – :( Sorry out with my flatmate and her friend. Besides, I don’t have my DVD’s. I lost my luggage, remember? We will have to plan a text date soon, once I figure out what channel I can get SG-1 on.

  Serena nudged Evie with her elbow, and the redhead glanced up from her phone bashfully. “Sorry,” she apologized automatically, but both girls were looking in another direction.

  When Evie followed the direction of their gaze, she caught Connie’s head swivel away from their table. As tall as he was, the man was clearly visible over the other heads’ of the bar-goers. He re-engaged in a conversation—the buddy from Skye. The redhead turned back to giggles, seeing Serena whispering to Becca behind a discrete hand. They were both smiling conspiratorially.

  “What?” Evie warily demanded.

  Becca shrugged her shoulders, flipping back strands of her chestnut bob. The full-figured girl scooched closer just as Serena grabbed Evie about the waist, the three of them pulling in close for a huddle. Becca pointed towards Connie and gave a vivacious shake of her shoulders that made her ample chest give a sexy bounce, as she winked, “You have quite the admirers tonight.”

  When Evie glanced back this time, Connie held her gaze over the end of an upturned beer bottle. She had to look away first. The sight of him made her heart race, and the reaction made the girls giggle harder.

  “Yer’s is far better lookin’ than that bloke I brought for you,” Serena commented, her other hand coming up to fan herself. “He looks to have gotten better with age. He’s how much older than you?”

  Evie shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted and then hazarded a guess. Based on the years listed for Mara’s degrees and certificates, she replied, “38-ish, maybe older.”

  “What?!” Becca exclaimed in surprise, “That’s way too old for you! You’re what, barely 21?”

  The redhead laughed and offered a high-five to the brunette, which they snapped over Serena’s adorable pom-pom poofs. “Unfortunately, no.” the girl truthfully amended, taking it as a compliment, “Thank you, but I am actually 27.”

  It was Serena’s turn to balk. “Well, he still has almost a decade on ya.”

  Evie shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

  This came out all wrong. Evie had meant to get off the subject. Instead, both girls looked at her like she was defending a legitimate relationship. Nothing legit about it, she reminded herself, cause he’s married and you’ve sworn off thinking about him!

  “Age is just a number,” Becca suggested, with another wink.

  “With an arse like that anyway!” Serena finished, bursting into a throng of laughter that had even Evie laughing along again.

  Evie felt the phone, which she had tucked into the back pocket of her pants, vibrate twice. Andy, no doubt texting her back. She pulled it out and rechecked the time. It was getting late. The beer, the food, and the company had been great, but it was all starting to make her feel sleepy. She stifled another yawn as she tucked the phone back into her pocket. She slipped on her blazer and got into her coat, as Serena whined, “No, not yet, Evie!”

  “Sorry,” she replied, with an apologetic smile, “but it’s been an extremely long day. I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it for tonight.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Evie,” Becca responded, extending a business-like hand across Serena. They shook hands as the brunette continued, “Serena is fortunate to have such a great flatmate. Come out again soon.”

  “Thank you, Becca, same here.” The redhead said, before turning to her flatmate.

  Serena hit her with a full-on pout, sad to see her split so early into their evening out. She snagged Evie in a crushing embrace. “Do ya know yer back to the flat, Evie? Maybe we should come with ya.”

  “No, no, I’ll be fine
.” The girl replied, giving the petite girl a squeeze back. Evie wagged her phone at her flatmate, answering, “That’s what Google is for. You guys stay. Say good-bye to Harry for me. Sorry, it wasn’t what you had planned, Serena.”

  The other girl waved a dismissive hand, correcting Evie, “No, I’m sorry he was such a bawbag! You’re much better off stickin’ with your tall, dark, and handsome over there.”

  “I’m better off taking a break.” Evie laughed, “I can’t afford to get any more involved with Mr. TDH.”

  “Oh, I think you’re going to find that difficult,” Becca pointed out, coyly, “because he is soooo into you. He was glancing over this way about every fifteen minutes,” She tapped a finger against the top of her opposite wrist, mimicking a wristwatch, “like clockwork.”

  The girls laughed as Evie went red again and turned away from them to slip out of the booth. She dragged her purse after her and slipped it on, not daring to respond to their teasing. She would only get redder.

  As Evie made her way out of the crowded pub, she felt lucky to have met such great friends already. Things were finally starting to turn around for her. The fresh air outside the pub door hit her with a washing wave of relief as she stepped outside. She took her phone out, finding a place out of the way to stand and look up how to get back home.

  As she was typing in the address, a shadow cast over her. “Hey,” Harry said, “you’re leavin’ already?”

  “I am actually,” she responded in a flat tone.

  The man shifted from foot to foot, looking very apprehensive and slightly perturbed still. Evie wondered where he had been all this time and why she had the unfortunate luck to run into him again. Especially now, as she was trying to make her way home. Awkwardly, the man hitched a thumb back over his shoulder, inviting her to come back inside, “C’mon, I wanna buy ya another pint.”

  “No, thank you,” Evie replied. When he didn’t budge, she continued, “I need to head home.”

  “Aw, c’mon now,” he complained, his voice strained as he insisted bluntly, “I didnae mean nothin’ buy it earlier. I was just tryin’ to have a wee bit o’ fun with ya. No harm, I swear it. Let me buy ya another drink to make up fer it. I feel like a right arse.”

  “As you should,” Evie said, tilting her head slightly to the side. “The answer is still no.”

  Harry’s arms rose up, one of his hands taking her arm roughly, as he argued, “Now, that ain’t fair! I want ta make it up to ya, come back inside.”

  The redhead ripped her arm back roughly, and through grit teeth, she threatened, “Hands off. I said no, and I mean it. I don’t want to see you again. Leave me alone.”

  Harry finally gave up in a big show of rage. He threw his arms up in the air, flipped her a double bird. He called her a string of names she could only imagine were as crude as they were awful, as he marched back into the pub.

  On his way, he was shouldered roughly. The slam was so hard it nearly knocked him on his ass. Harry meant to engage the offender in a row when he saw how large and imposing his opponent was. Evie had seen a sliver of how intimidating Connie could really be. He made poor Harry nearly cower with that look alone. He didn’t speak a word, just stared down his long thin nose at the other man, who slunk back into the pub, like the coward he was. After Harry was gone, Connie glanced toward Evie. She had handled the situation well, but she was glad for the backup.

  Behind Connie on the sidewalk, she could see his sandy-haired friend, smoking a cigarette. Connie said something to the other man before heading her way. There was something in his eye, a protectiveness that she had never seen before, and it made her insides twist into a tight knot.

  “Are ya alright?” he asked her. Connie’s voice was concerned but also dark, as though he wanted an excuse to go back inside and throttle Harry again. “I saw him grabbin’ ya in the booth. You seemed to handle him.”

  “I did,” she replied, with a triumphant grin. Evie was thankful to see that he approved.“I’m fine, thank you. Just going to head home.”

  “Let me take ya,” the words came out of his mouth in a rush, urgent and insistent.

  Against the wild desires mingling with lust inside of her body and mind, she answered, “You stay with your friend.” She waved at the shorter man, who flicked the ash from the fag.

  Connie’s bright eyes danced across her face, looking stricken by the answer and yet unwilling to voice it. She waggled her phone at him, showing the app she had pulled up, “Don’t worry. I called a driver. You stay and have a good time.”

  The large man sighed heavily, sounding disappointed. “I guess I will see ya on Tuesday then?”

  “I will be there.”

  Connie lingered, making things grow awkward, so Evie nodded back at his friend. The Scot finally retreated, meeting up with his mate and heading back into the pub.

  When they were both gone, Evie felt slightly alone. She had wanted desperately to say, yes, please take me home! Stay with me! Be with me! Her body craved to be touched by the man—to be possessed by his large warm hands all over again, but…she knew better. She was treading dangerous waters as it was.

  When the driver pulled up to the curb, she tried to forget about the Scot. Another text came in from Andy—a grateful distraction. She spent the last half hour of her night texting her surf-slacker, giving him the latest updates on her strange misadventures.

  7

  Evie spent her weekend tidying up her space in the bedroom. She got herself that shelf finally, with Serena’s help, and she had set it up above her bed in preparation for her things with her luggage—which was still MIA. They went together for groceries and bought fresh flowers from a nearby vendor to put in the guest room. The redhead found the time to dive back into her book, enjoying the read on the balcony with a cup of tea. Serena made curry one night, and Evie returned the favour the next day by making a sausage quiche for lunch.

  Evie’s workweek came and went in similar ease, with one small exception; she was learning to speak casually with Connie, without turning a bright shade of fuchsia. Connie came in more often, staying for the duration of the scheduled exams, during which he demonstrated that he did know his way around the store, capably aiding with reception, processing patients, and aftercare.

  Evie was growing more confident with her ability to operate the stores more mundane processes and, now that Connie was around as backup, she was able to spend more time selling to patients. They made five sales by Thursday and finished off the week with another three. Not great, but still an improvement. When she checked the budget on Saturday morning, she knew that they were close to being on par for the middle of the month. If they could keep the sales consistent for the following two weeks, they may even meet their goal.

  Despite this pleasant turn of events, Mara remained unaffected. She did not go out of her way to be negative or insulting, but Evie came to understand that she was just interminably austere. Evie found herself more relaxed when the woman was not in the store. The customers were more at ease as well and were more apt to purchase when Mara was not looming. The girl didn’t want to conclude that Mara was the sole reason for the store's slump—but it was certainly a theory.

  By the end of the next week, Connie had obviously picked up on this fact as well. After the last patient had been helped and his wife had promptly made her way out, he cynically made this fact apparent. Evie tried not to agree or disagree with the remark—did he think she was stupid? What an obvious trap. Evie could not afford to get herself sandwiched between the couple’s money management and professionalism quarrels. The Scot seemed bothered that she did not vindicate his remark, but thankfully let it slide.

  As the week closed, Evie was proud of the way the two of them had learned to conduct themselves together at the store. They found a way to work seamlessly alongside one another, despite everything. They were able to put the past aside and move on. The redhead began to feel like all this may work out in the end, and it took the edge off her stress levels.
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  Evie kept her two days off lowkey, hanging out at the flat. She made chocolate chip cookies to kick her chocolate cravings, finished her book, and found a channel to watch her beloved sci-fi show while texting Andy. She found her rhythm and her routine, her old-self purring inside as she began to feel more and more at home.

  The next Tuesday, the doctor saw six patients. They made two sales, but Mara still chastised them for slacking. Her husband took offence to the stern criticism, and the redhead busied herself at the reception desk, while the two of them snipped and sniped at one another in razor-sharp tones. Mara left through the front, nose held high like a haughty peacock, and Connie stormed out the back, head down like a charging bull. Neither said a word to their optician.

  Two steps forward, one step back. Like pushing a car out of a snowbank, give and slide.

  Evie spent the rest of her shift in peace. She completed work orders and mounted cut lenses in frames.

  On Thursday, Evie helped a fourteen-month-old girl into her first pair of glasses. The child was a pure delight. Her father had initially brought her in, concerned about the way she held her head always tilted to her left shoulder. The doctors were all out of answers until one suggested she see an optometrist. Mara had seen the girl the week prior and found that she had little vision in her left eye.

  Sophia held her head to her left shoulder so that her good right eye could compensate. It was both a sad and relieving diagnosis. When Evie fit the glasses on the girl and her little head immediately corrected, Sophia’s little mouth fell open in delighted astonishment. It was not hard to see that her entire world had become clear and focused, the way it was meant to be. She whirled around and wrapped her chubby little arms around her father’s neck in a thankful embrace. It was the experience of helping someone, so fundamentally, that was rewarding for Evie.

  For a dispensing optician, there really was nothing like the moment when you fit a pair of glasses for a patient, and they see their reflection for the first time. Some beamed, some remained impassive, and the odd time they frowned, but it’s the brilliant smiles that are an optician’s glory. A patient’s happiness was true satisfaction.