Broken

My (rather expensive) titanium, rimless multifocal‘s slide gently from the bed to the thick sheepskin rug, and break. One lens has popped out, and a strand of transparent plastic thread, not unlike fishing line, sticks up forlorn from near the nose flange. They’re only four months old.

“What did you do? Did you drop them on concrete?“ The man at the big box optometrist asks. Or rather, accuses, peering at me from over his own half moon specs. “They’re not suitable for everybody. You can’t throw them around. I’m sure we explained that.“

Is it the walking poles, I wonder? I ease from foot to foot and wish there was a chair handy. I assure him they have not been thrown around. I ask if they can be mended as I’m unable to purchase another pair so soon. He purses his lips.

“I doubt they can be fixed.“ His tone sharpens, “And you wouldn’t be covered by a warranty, that’s for material defects, not rough handling.“ He relents, a little, “Besides, I’d have to send them to our workshop, and with the mail delays, you’d be waiting weeks.“ He even manages to look apologetic. Time to play the helpless woman card.

“You must have a lot of industry contacts,“ I say. “Do you know any optometrists around here who do their own repairs? It would be such a help… I really can’t manage without them for long…” He grudgingly gives me the name of a custom eyewear salon a few blocks away. Short walk for anyone who doesn’t have my bung leg. A mini marathon for me.

The eyewear salon is hipster-couture. Frighteningly so. I wonder if the big box optometry man is being passive-aggressive to punish me. I decide fatigue is making me paranoid. I’m here now, I can at least ask. It’s not like there is anyone else in the shop…er…salon. I am not keeping him from a lucrative sale. He examines my broken glasses with professional curiosity, then looks up with compassion.

“I could probably fix these, but its a fiddly job and would take me a long time,” he warns. “See here? The screw holding the bracing strand in place has broken in half? If I were you I’d take it back and wait for the repair. That way you won’t be out of pocket.” 

Perhaps my shoulders slump, because he leans forward, voice lower even though we’re alone. 

“And they should fix them, that’s a material defect, for sure. Nothing you did could’ve caused that screw to break. If they hit the ground hard enough to break that, the lens would’ve shattered. They should fix or replace them. It’s a matter of principle. You can tell him I said so.”

I thank him. Can a heart be warmed and sink at the exact same time? I sit on a bench for a few minutes to rest, until the same patrol car passes, slowly, for a second time.

There is a second staff member at the big box optometry store, the bright, kind woman who first sold me the glasses. Her colleague is busy with another client. I offer thanks to whichever guardian angel, genius locii, or particle of luck has blessed me. 

I explain, matter of fact, without heat. This woman, as she listens, walks me to a couple of chairs by the desk in the corner. We both sit. I’m pretty sure she notices the slight ‘thump’ as my thigh muscle stops working a couple of inches short and I drop onto the seat. I lay my arm across my lap in case the ripple of muscle twitches is visible. Her eyes remain focused on the broken glasses, as she jots notes onto a repair order. She ticks ‘urgent’ and ‘under warranty’.

“I know my colleague would’ve warned you it may take a few weeks. We can’t guarantee you our usual fortnight turnaround. Even though the lab isn’t busy, we don’t control the post.”

“I understand,” I smile. “There’s a pandemic on, I hear.” She grins back.

As I hobble out—sticks clacking, back and shoulders military straight, head unbowed—the man walks across to her, frowning, and asks a question. She nods as he remonstrates, but continues to pack my broken glasses for the courier to collect.

Thank you for reading, your time and attention are a gift!

• Next month my short story, ‘Ants’ will be published – ebook and paperback – in What Is Love? an international collection of sometimes gritty, often tender stories from life, about love for partners, friends, kids, animals, gardens and more!

• Too often it feels like love is in short supply, being a part of this collaboration reignited my belief in love’s potential and power. Its my hope reading these stories will do the same for you and for those you love.

• I’ll have more specifics soon, but I’m too excited not to give you a head’s up.