When I Lose My Eyes (Part 1)

When I Lose My Eyes – Saturday Looks Good to Me (Part 1) (listen in new tab)

K’s alarm clock goes off. The noise wedges itself into his dream. An osprey in a fine Edwardian suit yells at him, trying to tell him about what he’s forgot to do, that he’s out of time. They stand on top of a sea of pine trees. The suited bird hands him a spear carved from what looks like whale bones, says that it’s imperative to remember to–

He wrenches up sharply. K’s right arm flails down at the offending sound. The fuzz in his eyes shifts to focus, as he looks at the green LED lights. They’re suddenly numbers. 7:02 becomes 7:03, and K realizes he’s going to be late for work.

“Dammit.” And he’s off. Shower. Breakfast. No wait, vitamins, then breakfast. He pulls on his pants while loading his toaster. He drinks a cup of cold day old coffee, switching the mug in his hands as he puts on a collared shirt. After a dash around his apartment, he pulls on his parka and is out the door. And then back inside. “Keys.”

K runs down the street as fast as the January thaw will let him. It’s not quite a full run; he stomps through the slush, slipping a little every few steps. His breathing starts to get heavy.

In his pocket he feels his phone vibrate. He pulls it out. It’s Claire.

K: “Hey, Claire. You’re up early.”

Claire: “I opened this morning. Are you dying?”

K stops, bends over to catch his breath. “No, I’m just out of shape. I woke up late. What’s up?” He starts again, moving at a more conservative, fast walk.

Claire holds the wireless phone between her shoulder and her ear as she works the espresso bar. Her arms flow with practiced precision. She has put Danielle, the new hire, on cash. She isn’t ready for the morning rush, not on cash - especially not on bar.

Claire looks over at, smiles at Danielle's exasperation. She drags her eye down the lengthening line of groggy customers and thinks: Oh, rookies.

Claire, to K: “Danielle’s dying this morning. [to Danielle] Listen, sweetheart you’re doing fine. What was the last one? Ok… K, I should go. I wanted to remind you that you’re meeting me for dinner. The lawyers are calling me today. We’re gonna celebrate for reals tonight. Woo! What was that?... Whole latte? Got it. K, I gotta go. 7:00 at Caxton’s. You know, the fancy place? Ok, later. Have a good run.”

She hangs up, placing the handset above her, atop the hissing machine, next to the paper cups.

Danielle: “Claire, what do we do with these coupons?” Her voice wavers.

Claire, tapping spent grounds forcefully into bin beside her: “Tell him we don’t have coupons, and then say ‘next’ loudly.”

Danielle: “What?”

Claire shakes her head. Danielle cannot receive jokes at this time: “Ok. One sec.”

Back on the street, K passes quickly by Ulysses’s. He looks in, sees the new girl throwing her hands up in capitulation to the line-up. Claire is soothing her, taking orders, still somehow making drinks. He sees her face for only a moment. This morning she’s the queen of the place.

And around the corner. He dodges into the street to avoid a delivery man’s loaded dolly. The move gains K moments, but soaks his left foot.

His head is still a little foggy. Maura has taken to calling him late at night, talking herself to sleep. A transcript would be pointless. It doesn’t matter what they talk about, just that last night when looked at the clock once it said 10:23 and then when he looked again it said 12:45.

They both had to get up early. She doesn’t care. He doesn’t either. Except right now, things feel a little pressing.

He smiles as he jumps head long, making a skillful leap across a lake of slush. As he lands, he thinks excitedly about later. He and Maura set tonight for their first real date. Dinner at some Sushi place she wants to try. Kasigi Yabu. 7:30. A late dinner.

He stops. Wait. Dammit.

He pulls out his phone as he starts his run again. He dials, hoping he can get her before she starts class. He gets her voicemail, slows down to talk: “Hey. [Heavy breath] I’m gonna sound like a stalker. [Heavy breath] Ok. Give me a call. It’s K. [Heavy breath]”

As he hangs up, he checks the time before he shoves his phone back into his pocket. He hits his stride again as rounds the last corner. He knows he’s late, but he may be able to beat Candice to work. He runs a tally in his head. He doesn’t have many last chances left to be late.

That thought shatters as he comes up to the door. His hopes fall in rose glass pebbles to the floor of his skull, Candice is there talking to the new morning librarian. They both look over at the door when K opens it. He walks in, his pants soaked almost to the top of his shins. He’s red faced and out of breath.

Candice’s face is a grimace, a glimmer of malice. K feels his recalcitrance. She goes to her office without a word. This day is going to be a battle.

As K settles in behind the circulation desk, the new morning librarian sips her herbal tea tersely. She’s in the union. Midnight, Thursday is the strike deadline. She says, coolly: “Two days, K. Candice is going to explode.”

K shrugs: “Yeah. I wish we could find the pin to put back in her.”

New Morning Librarian: “What? What do you mean?”

K: “Nevermind.”

The morning regulars start to filter in through the door, leaving wet footprints on the institutional blue-green carpets.

K checks his phone covertly. No messages. He knows she’s in class, and won’t call him back until after she leaves the school at 3:00. But, he will check it a hundred times that day, anyways.