by Tom the Hungarian 17 Dec 2001, 17:39
I.
I have known Fiona O'Grady all my life. Her mother and my mother had been the closest friends from high school days. They got married within a couple of years of each other and were pregnant at the same time. I was born three months before Fiona made her entrance into the world. For the first years of my life I didn't see all that much of the girl because we lived at a considerable distance albeit in the same city. Neither one of the two marriages were happy. Fiona's Mom got divorced first while my Mom struggled on. I can't say that I missed my father when my parents, finally, divorced, too, - I was in first grade at that time. He had been a rough, angry, intolerant guy, screaming at my Mother and me most of the time, beating me up frequently. When he beat up my Mom, the marriage came to an end and I saw very little of him afterwards. It was a scandalous divorce. His violence came into full public light and his career as an accountant was damaged. Eventually he moved away and I was happy with that!
I got my first glasses in kindergarten when an attentive teacher noticed my squinting and told my mom to get my eyes tested. I wasn't keen on the idea of wearing glasses, nor was my mother but when I got them and discovered how much better I could see with them, I accepted the inevitable. After that, mom took me to the optometrist dutifully and my prescription was increased little by little.
When a house became available in our street, Fiona's mother - she had been looking to move into a smaller house for some time as she was getting little enough financial assistance of her bum of an ex - bought it. After that she and my mother were inseparable and I saw Fiona daily. It was the summer between third and fourth grade, we were around nine years old and the idea of spending time with the fiery, little redhead did not appeal to me in the least. The group of boys I associated with still looked down on girls as inferior creatures. I was beginning to be interested but would not, could not admit this to my friends. But even if I was beginning to see girls in a different light, this did not include Fiona. She had a flaming temper, always wanted to have everything her own way and was totally unpredictable. She was pretty all right, much like her mother, slim, slight, graceful with red hair, green eyes, white skin and more freckles than starts in the sky. She could run almost as fast as I could - not that I was much of an athlete! - and was a far better batter in little league than I ever could be.
It was, in fact, at the little league field that I first noticed Fiona squinting. Now, I knew clearly enough what that squint meant. I had done it in kindergarten before I got my first specs and I did it whenever, for some reason, I didn't have my glasses on, in the swimming pool for instance for I wore the things all the time.
"You need glasses!" - I said with glee because I felt pretty sure that she would not like the idea and I enjoyed annoying her.
"No, I don't!" - she responded predictably.
"Yes, you do!"
"No I don't!"
This witty and imaginative conversation continued for a while but, finally, she had enough of it and asked,
"Why do you say I need glasses?"
"Because you squint when you look at something in the distance."
"So what? If I squint?"
"It means you're nearsighted! That's what it means!"
"Bullshit! Nothing wrong with my eyes!"
And she walked away angrily. I grinned.
A few days later we were looking for friends in the City Park and she squinted again to see better a group of kids in the distance.
"Want to borrow my specs?" - I asked her with an expression of kind generosity and handed her my glasses.
"What would I want your glasses for, Martin?"
"To see!"
"I can see perfectly well without them. Will you leave me alone?"
Then, there was the occasion when we went to see the new Disney movie together. I wanted to go with my friends but had the marching orders from my mom and I did not want to inflict her on the other boys. So, we just went, the two of us.
"I'll catch her this time!" - I thought.
After we bought our tickets and huge cups of coke with even larger portions of buttered popcorn, we walked into the movie and I sat down in one of the back rows as soon as we entered.
"I like to sit up front," - she said firmly.
"Why's that?" - I asked her. - "You can't see from here?"
"Who said I can't see? I just like it down there. I always sit there, in the front."
"It's because you need glasses."
"You know what, Martin?" - she countered. - "You sit where you want to sit and I sit where I want to sit."
And with this, she marched down to the front row and plunked herself down onto a seat there.
On another occasion, we were waiting for a bus. There were two different bus lines stopping where we waited. When a bus appeared in the distance, I said to her,
"What number is that bus? It's too far for me to see it."
"Since when can't you see?" - she asked. - "You got your specs on!"
"I need stronger lenses," - I replied and this happened to be true. I had noticed recently that I could see a lot better if I tilted my glasses or pushed the lenses closer to my eyes. I knew from experience that this was a sign that the lenses were too weak and this was not unexpected as my yearly trip to the eye doctor was about due.
"You will just have to wait till it comes closer," - she replied firmly. - "You are just trying to test me and you have no business doing that."
I was beginning to think that I could find no way of pushing her into a corner. But, then, an opportunity did arise or, to be more precise, I managed to create one.
During those summer month we went to the Municipal swimming pool almost daily and spent a lot of time there. It was an easy distance by bike from our street. I usually left my glasses in the locker. I preferred to see a little less in exchange for not to have to worry about them. On this occasion, with malice aforethought, I kept them on. We were sitting on our towels, which we had spread on the bleachers and eating sandwiches we had brought for lunch. When we had finished, I took off my glasses and told Fiona that I was going swimming. I knew that she had swallowed hook, line and sinker, the old wives' tail our two mothers held as an infallible doctrine that it was unhealthy to swim right after eating.
"You better wait a little and not go right after eating," - she protested but I ignored her. I left leaving my glasses in a conspicuous position on the blanket. Then, I dived into the pool but immediately swam to the edge nearest the bleachers where Fiona was sitting and, looking over the edge of the pool, I watched her squinting hard without my glasses. She was near enough to see her well enough except maybe the details of her facial features. She was lying down comfortably at first but after a few moments, she sat up. I saw her looking at my spectacles. As I had hoped and expected, curiosity moved her, she picked them up and tried them on. I was holding my breath, I was so curious. If the lenses were far too strong for her, she would remove the glasses immediately but if they were not… Well, she did not remove them immediately. She kept them on and looked to the right and to the left, up and down, all around. She even turned around and inspected what was behind her. I climbed out of the pool just as she was doing that and quickly ran up to her.
"Trying to see what the world really looks like?" - I asked in the most sarcastic tone I could muster. Fiona turned bright red in embarrassment.
"I was curious," - she answered defensively and quickly took the glasses off her nose. I continued my attack,
"Admit that can see with them!"
"I can but everything is very blurred!"
No matter how hard I tried to get her to admit that she had a problem with her eyesight, I failed. She persisted in claiming that she could see perfectly well and did not need glasses. When my mother took me for my annual check-up, I suggested to her that she come with us but she refused. I was tempted to say something about it to her mother but disclosing a kid's secret to an adult, especially to a parent, just seemed to too gross a betrayal.
The beginning of the school year was approaching and I was convinced that Fiona's secret would remain undiscovered. But I was wrong about that! In the very last week of our vacation, we went again to the swimming pool but, in this instance, Fiona's mother, Mrs. O'Grady was coming with us, too. It was a Saturday and she enjoyed swimming and sunning herself as much as the kids did. My mother canceled the last moment for a reason I no longer remember. As usual, all of us - and that included Fiona's mother who was a little nearsighted and usually wore contacts but had her glasses on this time - left our glasses in the lockers. Early in the afternoon, Fiona was still in the pool and I was sitting with Mrs. O'Grady drinking a coke when she suddenly exclaimed,
"I left my watch in the locker! I wonder what time it is?"
She, then, pointed toward the clock in the distance, on the wall of the clubhouse.
"I can't see that far without my specs. Can you see the clock, Martin?"
I shook my head,
"Sorry, not without my glasses."
"Two blind mice," - she laughed. - "We will have to rely on the only member of this group who has good eyesight."
Right at that moment a wet and dripping Fiona came running to us, picked up her towel and started drying herself.
"Fiona," - her mother said to her, - "we need to know the time. Neither Martin, nor I can see that far without glasses. You are our last hope!"
I had pursuing poor Fiona with an almost sadistic zeal trying to get her to admit her nearsightedness of which I was convinced and force her to join the ranks of those who - like me - wore spectacles. But now I felt sorry for her. I saw how upset she was and how her face turned red again. She took a step away from us and also turned away. I knew that she did this to hide from her mother her squinting. It was no good! She was unable to see the face of the clock clearly enough to tell us the time! Mrs. O'Grady was deeply surprised and her voice showed her misgivings when she exclaimed,
"My goodness, Fiona! Can't you see it either?"
Fiona muttered something incomprehensible.
"You must be needing glasses!" - her mother shouted and I was not sure whether she was upset, angry or both. - "Why didn't you tell me if you had a problem?"
"I don't have a problem!" - Fiona answered angrily. - "It's just something today! Maybe an allergy!"
That was a pretty lame excuse and her mother never accepted it for a moment.
"I know what it is, young lady!" - she said coldly. - "It isn't allergy! It's vanity! Stupid vanity! You just didn't want to wear glasses! And before school starts I will take you to have your eyes seen to!"
It was hard for me to deny now that the idea of Fiona wearing glasses excited and pleased me. It was the first time I clearly experience the sexual attraction I felt for girls wearing glasses. I was simply exalted and ecstatic at this thought.
When we met again at the exit from the swimming pool fully dressed, Mrs. O'Grady took off her glasses and told her daughter to try them on.
"O, I don't need them, mom," - Fiona protested. - "I don't want to try them."
So, finally, she did. But when her mother asked whether she could see better with them, she shrugged her shoulder and denied it. I was convinced she was lying but Mrs. O'Grady was kinder and said,
"Maybe they're too strong for you."
I doubted this because the lenses did not seem very strong to me.
Poor Fiona's humiliation and my pleasure were not complete with this, however. It was completed a few days later when it was announced that Mrs. O'Grady will take me as well as her daughter to the optometrist. My mother expressed her thanks because she happened to be very busy at her office and taking time off was awkward. She even had to go to work on Saturday. So a few days later, there we were sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Howell's office. When we were called in, Mrs. O'Grady asked me politely and considerately if I minded her and Fiona being present when the doctor examined my eyes and I, of course said that I did not in the least.
Dr. Howell started with me and my examination was uneventful. Like in all the previous years, my prescription was increased by a tiny amount, 0.25 diopter for each eye, raising it to -3.50 and -4.00. I had no astigmatism. The only thing that slightly embarrassed me, perhaps, was when she expressed surprise at the strength of my prescription.
"Gee, Martin! That's a lot stronger than mine! I didn't realize you were that nearsighted!"
Then, it was Fiona's turn. The doctor, of course, started with the instrumental examination. He hardly looked into her eyes and he exclaimed with true surprise in his voice,
"Goodness gracious! This young lady is quite nearsighted!"
Fiona blushed. The doctor proceeded with all the rest of the instrumental tests and, then, he announced.
"Well, my dear, I'm afraid you'll need to wear glasses! The only question left to decide is now how strong the lenses are you require."
The doctor projected the eye chart and asked Fiona to read the letters on it. She managed only the three top lines! I thought Mrs. O'Grady would faint, she was so upset and I was stunned, too. I knew she was nearsighted but never suspected how poor her eyesight was. She had certainly done a first class job of covering up.
The prescription the doctor gave her was -2.50 and -2.75 with a little astigmatism in the left eye.
"I don't know, young lady," - the doctor said, - "how you managed without glasses? Didn't you have trouble seeing the black board at school? The movie screen? I just don't understand!"
Fiona's mother was equally uncomprehending. On our way home she kept repeating,
"You are more nearsighted than I am!"
And every time the car stopped, she continued asking her pointing at street signs. Shop signs and posters,
"Can you read that?"
And, of course Fiona, embarrassed to death could just shake her head silently. I noticed that she was crying.
I almost forgot to mention that before we left the doctor's office, Mrs. O'Grady asked the doctor whether Fiona was to wear her glasses.
"O, I suppose," - Dr. Howell replied, - "she'd better. But I think, Mrs. O'Grady, this is an academic question. Her lenses are quite strong. For first glasses remarkably strong. Once she has them, she will find a whole world opening for her and she will want to wear them.
I remember wondering about the doctor's answer.
II.
Fiona got her glasses a few days later, the same day as I did. She had chosen pretty frames but her mother refused to get her contacts because of their cost and also because she thought Fiona was too young. Contacts, - and she knew this from personal experience - require a lot of care and she did not think her daughter mature enough. She promised, however to reconsider this question in a year or two.
Fiona and I went to school together, taking the same school bus. On the first day, we left the house together and headed for the street corner where other kids were already waiting for the bus. Long before those schoolmates could see us, Fiona had the glasses off and in her purse.
"Aren't you going to wear your specs?" - I asked her.
"Are you crazy?"- she asked.
I did not think I was. I thought it was a logical question. But Fiona always had the ability to surprise me and she did this time. She refused to wear her glasses anywhere except when her mother was present. She was stubborn, ingenuous and determined. I could not help admiring her. I thought at first that she would do it for a few days or weeks and she would, in time, realize how much easier her life would be if she wore the damned things. But Fiona just went on squinting and borrowing my notes and asking for my help. I was sitting next to her and knew her secret, so I could help. In fact, I don't think that she would have managed without my assistance. Only a few of the kids realized what she was doing, mostly girls. The others did not have any idea that they were, in fact, witnessing a tour de force. Her grades suffered and her sporting accomplishments did too. She was a much less good tennis player than before and she got kicked off the little league team because both her batting and catching deteriorated simply because she did not see the ball. At home she wore the specs when her mother was there or when she watched TV and no one else was present. In this respect I did not count, of course. When we went to the movies, she did put them on after the lights went out and made quite sure that they were off before they came back on again.
This went on month after month and I was increasingly amazed how she managed to get away with it. One thing helped. Since the doctor did not actually say that she had to wear her glasses, her mother was not very tough on her. She was quite willing to accept Fiona not wearing her specs for church on Sundays or going with the kids. What she would not have accepted was her not wearing them at school and allow her sporting life to fail because of her vanity.
It was, I think, in early spring when I first noticed her tilting her glasses. It happened on a Saturday morning when we went hiking together. At first it was going to be a group of us but, for some reason I no longer recall, the other kids canceled and Fiona and I decided to go. This suited me because by this time I was in love with her. No way would I have said anything to her or admitted the shameful fact to my friends. But the idea of a day with just her, was just my picture of Paradise. Needless to say that Fiona, in spite of my truly selfless and heroic assistance, did not reciprocate my feelings. She was just as temperamental, caustic and nasty to me as ever. On that day we went up the mountains and, since we were alone, I suggested to her that she put on her glasses to see the magnificent views and, since I did not count, she agreed. I was delighted. I thought that Fiona was beautiful anyway but when she was wearing glasses, as far as I was concerned, there was no competition. I was surprised indeed that morning to see the telltale sign of her tilting her glasses when she was admiring the view. I was surprised since it was not much more than six months that she got her present prescription.
"I think you need new glasses, - I said.
"What the hell do you mean?"
"I think you need stronger lenses."
"That's stupid! How could I? I've only got these six months ago."
"I don't know how Fiona but I know from experience that when you need to tilt your glasses you're doing right now, it means your lenses aren't strong enough."
"And you know what I think it means?" - she asked.
I shook my head.
"It means that you're an idiot!"
And that was that! Subject finished!
Still, I knew I was right and I was even more certain when we went to the movies and she wanted to sit up front again. I mentioned her glasses and suggested she talk to he mom but - well what can I say? I can certainly not reproduce the language she used telling me off.
So the year went by and so did the summer and it was time again to have our eyes tested. Once again, it was Mrs. O'Grady who took us. Her job was less demanding than my mother's. My eye test went by in exactly the same way as the previous year. My prescription was now up to -4.00 and -4.50. Dr. Howell even joked,
"Your eyes change so regularly, Martin, you don't even need to come to see me. In future, I'll just send you your new prescription at the end of every August."
Unfortunately, it was not so with Fiona. The optometrist had, of course, his files handy and looked up our previous prescription before he started the testing. Now, just as soon as he had a look into Fiona's eyes with his instrument, he leaned back on his chair with a deep sigh.
"O, Fiona, Fiona, I don't know what you're doing to your eyes. Why don't you follow your friend, Martin's good example? What's your hurry?"
"What do you mean, doctor?" - Fiona's mom asked.
"I mean, Mrs. O'Grady, that her eyes got a lot worse in this one year and she'll need a lot stronger prescription."
There is no need to describe what happened next. Everyone knows how eyes are tested and the right prescription arrived at. When Dr. Howell had Fiona look at the eye chart without lenses in front of her eye, she could not read even the top line and Mrs. O'Grady just groaned and sighed in despair. The new prescription was -3.50 and -4.00 with a little astigmatism in the right eye and quite a bit more in the left.
She begged her mother for contacts but she was refused for the very same reasons as a year ago and her mother even complained about the extra cost of the thin, lenses made of high refraction plastic that the optician's sales assistant recommended and Fiona insisted on. I didn't know why this made a difference to her if she did not wear her glasses any way. So, I thought, that maybe it was going to be different in the coming year. I did not think that she could maintain her star theatrical performance and continue without wearing her glasses with her new prescription. But she did!
She did but not for long for an unexpected and unpredictable coincidence interfered. I did not witness this incident but I heard part s of it from a friend at school and parts of it from Fiona. She went to the Mall with her mother one morning. She wore her glasses because Mrs. O'Grady had put her foot down after the last eye test. In spite of the doctor's contrary opinion she was convinced that the rapid increase of her daughter's myopia was due to her not wearing her specs. In addition, - and there was considerably more sense to her second reason - she thought it unsafe to run around with a vision as blurred as Fiona's had become. She also thought it the silliest possible manifestation of a teenage girl's vanity. The two O'Gradys were walking down the mall going from their hairdresser to another store for shopping when, quite by chance, they ran into a group of kids, boys and girls, who were waiting for a movie to start. They came running up to them to say hello and, of course, noticed immediately Fiona's glasses, which none of them had ever seen before.
"Hi, Mrs. O'Grady," - said one of the guys, actually the friend who later told me the story, and, then, turning to Fiona, he asked, - "Did you just get the specs?"
There were other exclamations like,
"Hey, Fiona's got glasses!"
"They look cool on you!"
"Can you see better with them? I noticed you squinting quite a bit lately."
To cut a long story short, it quickly became crystal clear to Mrs. O'Grady that none of these kids whom she knew to be her daughter's classmates had ever seen Fiona wearing glasses. She didn't say anything to Fiona while the other kids were present but the girl knew that hell was to follow. In a desperate attempt to get out of immediate trouble, she asked if she could join her friends going to the movies.
"Yes, Mrs. O'Grady, let her come," - one of the girls added her supplication to Fiona's. - "She wants to try how well she can see with her new specs."
Unsurprisingly, Mrs. O'Grady's response was firmly in the negative. When they got home she read the riot act to her daughter. She told her that she would call Ms. Braunhaus at school and tell her about Fiona's glasses and ask her to let the mother know if her daughter did not wear them. She asked Mrs. O'Grady to inform the other teachers about this. Fiona considered this an empty threat and decided to ignore her mother's threats. She was pretty unpleasantly taken aback Monday morning when Ms. Braunhaus came into the class, looked around, saw Fiona without glasses and said,
"Fiona, your mother called me and told me that you are to wear your glasses for class. Would you kindly put them on."
Fiona turned bright red but she had no option but to obey. After this, her plans were changed. She still refused to wear the specs continuously but she did so a great deal more than before. She wore them at home when her mom was there, at school for the lessons but took them off for the breaks, on Sunday for church and generally there was a likelihood to be seen by adults who were friendly with her mother. One consequence was that she got used to wearing them and seeing well. Since everybody knew now about her glasses, she was now willing to put them on voluntarily whenever seeing was important. Her tennis and softball playing rapidly improved again as soon as she played in her specs. She used them when watching sporting events. She even put them on occasionally when hiking to see the views. The more often she wore her glasses the more often she happened to forget taking them off. Sometimes she went through an entire break without removing them. I, of course, watched her as a hawk and loved to see her in her glasses. Never would I remind her to take them off.
In early spring, she started squinting and tilting her glasses again and I knew that her eyes were still getting worse rapidly. This time she was so worried about it herself that she mentioned it to me but when I suggested she ask her mother to take her to the eye doctor, she refused. On another occasion when she was looking at something squinting hard and using her fingers to push the lenses of her glasses against her eyeballs, I took off my glasses and handed them to her saying,
"Try and see if you can see better with these."
I expected to be refused but she accepted, tried them on, took them off again and handed them back without saying a word. I asked her if she could see better with them. She responded with a brief 'yes' and refused to say anything further.
The summer between fifth and sixth grade brought a major change in our lives. My mother and Mrs. O'Grady decided to move together. Mrs. O'Grady - she asked me to call her Aunt Anne while Fiona was supposed to address my mom as Aunt Sarah - sold her house and moved into ours. They explained to us that both of the mothers were working real hard and still struggling financially and, being such old friends who got on with each other so well, cutting overheads. There would be only one house payment, one set of utility bills and feeding a family of four certainly did not cost double of feeding two. I was excited and enthusiastic. Fiona was not. I loved the idea of sharing a house with her. She pointed out the inconveniences, which were real. Our house was small. We had two bathrooms only, so the two mothers had to share one, while Fiona and I shared the other. This idea of sharing a bathroom with a boy displeased Fiona while I considered it wonderful, The biggest disadvantage, however, was that the house had three bedrooms only. Evidently Fiona and I could not share one. So, the two mothers had to do it. Both of us kids were surprised that they were willing to do this and many people who heard about it thought it a strange arrangement.
Before the next school year started, there were the eye tests. This time we went separately for some reason. My test went smoothly as before and, once gain my prescription was upped by 0.25 diopter. I knew when Fiona had hers but when she returned home from it, she did not speak to me at all but disappeared into her room with dark expression on her face. It was clear enough that things had not gone well. I wanted to cheer her up and console her; so, I knocked on her door.
"Who is it?" - she shouted angrily.
"It's me."
"What do you want."
"Just talk to you."
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I want to hear about your eye examination."
"Leave me alone!"
"But Fiona…"
"Get lost!"
The last words were screamed. She talked to me later on in the evening and described the event as a catastrophe. She refused to tell me what her new prescription was.
A few days later she got her new glasses and the lenses were noticeably thicker. I asked how strong they were but she would not tell me. I had to wait a couple of weeks before I was able to satisfy my curiosity. We were sitting on the bleachers at the softball field waiting for her game to start. I liked to watch her play. She was so graceful and yet powerful, a delight to see! Another game was still in progress. We were not interested and just chatted. As was her custom, she did not put on her glasses until the game started and, on this occasion, she put it down on the bleacher between the two of us. Before she had an opportunity to stop me, I picked them up and tried them on. I was startled. They were now stronger than mine! I knew she got stronger lenses but I certainly did not expect this. I said so. She responded angrily,
"I told you my eye test was a catastrophe and it was! I know you're dying to know my prescription. Well it's -5.50 and -6.00 and on top I have -0.50 astigmatism in my right eye and a full diopter in the other. Now you know and can be happy."
"Why would I be happy?"
"Aren't you pleased that my eyes are worse than yours?"
I just shook my head in amazement.
III.
Another year passed and Fiona's myopia continued worsening rapidly. The doctor had asked her mother to bring her every six months and her prescription had to be adjust upwards each time. This was the year when we started middle school and her lenses had strength of -7.00 and -7.50 now with an additional -0.75 and -1.25 for astigmatism. Mine were -4.50 and -5.00 but nothing like hers. The difference now was such that I could see little with her glasses. Once again, she was reluctant to let me try and I sneaked an opportunity to do so in the swimming pool while she was in the water. Fiona was very upset by this but there were other factors that upset her even more. The optometrist was very concerned about her eyes and sent them to a specialist in high myopia. Her condition did not qualify as "high" myopia yet but the progression indicated that they were dealing with what they call "pathological" myopia. The specialist took it seriously and recommended bifocals as well as continuing the bi-yearly visits to him. Needless to say that Fiona disliked the idea of bifocals. It took her quite a while to get used to them and when she made her first appearance at school she was teased about them quite a bit. There could, of course, be no question now about not wearing her specs all the time. She was stuck with them and willy-nilly she had to admit being quite lost without them. She placed them every evening at the exact same spot on her bedside table because when she did not, she had a hard time finding them. Once or twice she had to ask me to help her which she found humiliating. The first thing she did in the morning was to put them on and, except for the few minutes in the shower, she wore them till she was ready to sleep.
It was that year that Fiona started going out with boys. She now had nice little bumps showing under her tight T-shirts, she wore the shortest skirts permissible under the school's dress code and when she was not at school she wore the shortest microskirts period. She was flirting with everybody between twelve and a hundred-and-twelve, everybody that is except me. From certain comments I had picked up, I realized that she thought of her glasses as a major handicap. She could not imagine that any guy in his right mind would want to go out with a girl wearing thick lenses. That there were males around, like myself, who considered it an attraction or those who did not care one way or other, did not even occur to her. Yet many guys did not care. As one of my friends said, "they come off in bed, don't they?" Fiona compensated for her inferiority complex by her provocative behavior and, I suspected by always being ahead of the other girls in sexual activities. I was still desperately in love with her and she was still completely indifferent to me. I figured that she considered me a "brother" except that I neither was her brother, nor felt like it.
It was a few months after she started wearing her new glasses when Fiona wanted to speak to me "confidentially". I was very surprised because I was the last person in the world, I thought, she would turn to for discussing confidential matters.
"I think that our mothers sleep together."
"What do you mean?" - I said and I have never in my life been more taken aback. It was obvious that she meant more than sleeping in the same room.
"I think they're lovers."
"That's ridiculous! I can't believe it! What makes you think so?"
"Well… Last night I had to go to the bathroom… it was past midnight…And as I walked in passageway, I heard strange noises from downstairs. I went down and with bare feet I made little noise… and down in the living room the TV was still on and mom and your mom were on the sofa facing the set and… they were… you know…"
"I don't know! They were what?"
"Necking!"
"I don't believe it!"
"Well, your Mom had her hand…"
"I don't want any details please!"
She got angry with me.
"Just keep your head under the sand, you stupid ostrich!"
I can hardly state how deeply disturbed I was. I did not believe her yet I could not imagine a reason for her lying on this subject. I thought of investigating it but, at the same time, I did not want to know. A few days later, she came into my room without knocking - had I done that, she would have killed me! - and woke me.
"Psst! Be very quiet and come with me."
We tiptoed down the stairs and to the back of the house where the master bedroom was located. We went close to the room and - I am real ashamed to admit this even after all those years! - listened. The sound effects we heard left little doubt about what was going on in there.
I was crushed. Surprisingly, Fiona was far less upset. The idea that my mother was a lesbian seemed impossible to accept. For her it was just one of those things that go on in the world. In any case, a few months later, our two mothers called us to the living room and actually told us. They explained it reasonably and calmly that there are people who are attracted to the same sex and others who are sometimes attracted to the same sex and at other times to the opposite sex. They said that this was the way people were born and that there was not much anyone could do to alter his or her make-up. They said that they had been friends for a long time, they loved and trusted each other dearly and they found that their love went beyond friendship. They asked us to understand and accept. What else could we do? I accepted reluctantly, at first and was deeply ashamed and embarrassed about it. Not so Fiona! She admired them for their willingness to defy convention and live their life according to their feelings and not according to society's artificial rules. She talked about it freely at school and to her friends, which I hated because soon everyone we knew, knew about it. As a result a number of kids were forbidden to come to our house and discouraged from being our friends.
The years went by. Everything changed except for my feelings for Fiona. She was wild as ever. I remember when I found condoms in her drawer in the bathroom. Of course, I was not supposed to open her drawers and I would like to pretend that it was a mistake. But it was not! It was curiosity. There was also the other time, at the end of a school day, when she told me to wait for her before going home because she needed to see the school nurse. (I owned a cheap used car and drove us to and from school. Fiona, of course, could never get drivers' license with her eyesight.)
"What do you want from the nurse?" - I asked.
"Pills." - she answered.
"Pills? What kind of pills?"
She looked at me with contempt as if I were an idiot.
"Contraceptive pills, of course!"
Yes, I was fully aware of the sexual promiscuity of the girl I loved and I was miserable about it. She had lost her virginity at thirteen and by the age of seventeen she had experienced all there was to experience.
We finished middle school and entered high school. My myopia continued growing slowly another year or two and, then, stabilized at -4.75 and -5.50. Poor Fiona's did not, however but continued at about the same rate. The year we started our senior year, her prescription had reached -14.50 and -15.50 with -1.00 and -2.00 astigmatism. Her optician told her that, if things continued unchanged, she would eventually have to consider myodiscs. Her doctor still hoped that the myopia would stabilize when she got past the teen years. He already kept warning her about the danger of retinal detachment with her high myopia and she was very familiar with the symptoms.
It was in early October, on a beautiful weekend day of Indian summer, a group of, including Fiona and me. We climbed up quite high to get the best views but Fiona wanted higher still. Climbed up a rocky outcrop.
"Careful there!" - somebody shouted.
The very same moment she put a foot on an unstable stone, which moved and Fiona fell. She tumbled down and rolled quite a distance. We all ran to her and when we reached her we asked how she was. She was sitting up laughing and moving arms and legs to show us that nothing had broken. Then, suddenly she turned pale.
"Martin!" - she exclaimed. At this moment of crisis, she turned to me! - "Martin! My retina! I'm having a detachment!"
"You sure?" - I asked and kneeled down next to her.
"I know the symptoms… a black veil across part of my vision… O, my God, it's both eyes."
Luckily I knew what to do. She had to lie down and stay out. We had no cell phones with us, - this happened before they existed, - so some of us had run down as fast as they could and bring help. I decided to stay with us. Unfortunately many hours passed before help arrived. The kids who ran down - and it was a long way - had to find Mrs. O'Grady first and she had to find the eye doctor and he had to arrange for a helicopter to pick her up. As soon as she was at the hospital, they operated. The next days were excruciating for all of us. The first reattachment of the retina did not hold. The second operation failed. The third was successful. They put in scleral buckles to hold the retinas in place. One of the side effects of these is that they increase the degree of myopia considerably on account of the pressure they exert on the eyeball. This was not, however, the biggest problem by any means. The trouble was that as a result of the delay in starting the first operation and the failure of the first to procedures, her retina had been seriously damaged. The prescription she now needed was -19.50 and -21.00. The tragedy was that even with such powerful lenses, her visual acuity was down to 20/200. Fiona was legally blind!
I will always remember the first time she returned to school with myodisc lenses. She refused to use a cane although the doctor recommended it but it was soon enough clear to all the kids how limited her vision had become. She was unable to see the blackboard even from the front row of desks. Eventually she was given various visual aids like telescopic glasses that enabled to see the board or TV and a computer program that enlarged the imaged on her computer screen. Going to the movies made no sense to her, nor did she see well enough to enjoy sporting events. She was, however, still beautiful and sexy and her myodiscs came off in bed just as easily as her former glasses. She continued ignoring me.
IV.
Very soon after our high school graduation, our mothers split up. Mrs. O'Grady married a nice elderly electrical contractor with enough money to keep her in comfort. After he sold his business to retire, they moved to Sun City Arizona and lived there happily ever after. My mother lived alone for a while after which followed a series of girl friends lasting from a few weeks to a couple of years. I had good enough grades to get a scholarship to one of the Ivy League Universities and, eventually, a law degree from another Ivy League Law School. Then, I got a job with a Wall Street law firm and started making piles of money. Years passed. I did not get married. I had girl friends, affairs lasting months, but there was an obstacle to my establishing more lasting, permanent relationships with women. The obstacle was a ghost from the passed whose name was Fiona.
I had lost touch with her completely. I knew that she studied at the local State University and in spite of her visual disability graduated with excellent grades. She became a teacher of the visually impaired, a profession I never expected her to choose. But, then, she always had the ability to surprise me. I had no idea where she lived.
One chilly November Sunday, I was walking to the 92nd street YMCA for an afternoon concert - I had always liked classical music. I was alone, which was not unusual for me on weekends. Suddenly I noticed a blind woman walking in the same direction with a long white cane in her hand. Ever since my experience with Fiona, I had a special soft spot for blind women. I speeded up to catch up with her by the time she had reached the next street crossing. I came up to her side and said,
"Let me help you across."
"Thank you," - the woman said, - "I'm partially sighted, not completely blind. I can manage."
The voice sounded familiar. No, it was more than familiar! I was overtaken and inundated by a tidal wave of memories. I exclaimed,
"Fiona!'
"Yes…" - she said hesitantly but, then, her face brightened, - "Martin! No, it can't be!"
"Yes, I am, Martin," - I confirmed and I embraced and kissed her. Strangely, after all these years of love for her, all those years when we lived together, this was the first time I kissed her.
She had been heading to the same concert but we immediately gave up those plans. I flagged down a cab and took her to my favorite espresso where I knew we could chat quietly. I told her about my career and what my mother was up to that particular moment. She told me about her studies and career and about her mother. Currently, she lived in New York City and was Executive Director of a Rehab Center for the Blind and Visually impaired. Finally, I came to the sixty-four-thousand dollar question.
"Are you married?"
She shook he head quietly.
"No, I am not,"- she said and I heard these words intense, enormously intense relief. Suddenly new hope rose up in my imagination, new possibilities, a new, more fulfilling life.
"Have a boyfriend? A man in your life?"
She shook he head again, then asked,
"And you?"
"No, I'm not married either and I don't have a woman in my life."
And, then, I suddenly went crazy. I did something I had no business doing. After all those years I decided that waiting made no sense! After all, if anyone knew me, this woman did!
"Fiona," - I said and there was true passion in my voice. - "I'm sure you know that from the age of nine when we first met, I was in love with you. I never married, never got involved deeply with a woman because of your memory. I never before had the guts to speak to you about my love because I knew you couldn't stand me and looked down on me. But now I'm not waiting any longer! I'm going to ask! I am not expecting an answer right now. But will you consider marrying me?"
I could tell that she was deeply moved. In fact, I could see the tears behind her myodiscs.
"You loved me?" - she asked. - "I thought you hated and despised me! It was I who loved you all the time and dreamed of you changing your mind and never dared speaking to you about it! I thought you considered me ugly with my thick lenses!"
I laughed.
"On the contrary! To me they were an added attraction!"
She laughed, too, shook her head and said,
"What a double misunderstanding!"
"So, what do you say, Fiona? What do you say now when you know the truth?"
There was a long silence before she answered.
"Martin, I cannot tell you how deeply moved I am, how truly honored that you can so easily overlook my disability and make this offer. I cannot tall you how it hurts me to say this but the answer is 'no'."
"But why, Fiona? You are not married? You don't have a boyfriend?"
"Take me home, Martin, and I will explain there, ok?"
I agreed, of course. I paid our bill, in the street I flagged down a taxi and Fiona gave the driver the address. It was an apartment in a handsome old brownstone in a relatively modest, slightly shabby neighborhood. The apartment was on the second floor. She opened the door and as we entered she called out,
"Hello, Flora! I'm home and I brought with me an old friend I happened to meet. Come and meet him."
We were still standing in the spacious hallway. A moment later, a door opened and a wheelchair came rolling through. A young, very attractive, Asian woman was sitting in the chair. She wore a blue cardigan and a knee-length navy skirt and looked very elegant in those simple clothes. Her legs seemed thin and atrophied, indicating to me that she was a paralytic. She smiled at me and it was one of the sweetest and most charming smiles I had ever seen.
Fiona introduced me first and, then said pointing at the woman in the wheelchair,
"And this is Flora, my life partner and lover…"