{"id":10090,"date":"2023-05-22T17:05:52","date_gmt":"2023-05-22T22:05:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=10090"},"modified":"2023-05-22T18:32:35","modified_gmt":"2023-05-22T23:32:35","slug":"dr-roses-glasses","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/dr-roses-glasses\/","title":{"rendered":"Dr. Rose\u2019s Glasses"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"640\" height=\"480\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-rotated.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-10091\" srcset=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-rotated.jpg 640w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-370x278.jpg 370w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"h-original-fiction\"> Original Fiction <\/h3>\n\n\n\n<h1 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"Red-Wine\">Patricia Crisafulli<\/h1>\n\n\n\n<!--more-->\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  A bright light projected onto the opposite wall of the darkened room, and line after line of tiny letters came into focus. Evelyn knew the drill from fifty years of getting her eyes checked since being declared nearsighted at age seven. \u201cA-K-L-3-M-V,\u201d she read without being asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cNext line, G-2-B\u2014\u201c Evelyn paused, squinted slightly while the ophthalmologist wasn\u2019t looking. \u201cNope, the B is an 8. Then X-J-R.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose adjusted the vision checker\u2014a <em>phoropter<\/em>, as Evelyn recalled the word from a crossword puzzle she\u2019d done one rainy Saturday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cDoes this make it better?\u201d Dr. Rose flipped a lens. \u201cOr worse?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cWorse.\u201d Evelyn fought the impulse to shift in her seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cHow about now?\u201d The lens changed again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  <em>Worse, worse, worse<\/em>. The word soured in Evelyn\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose cranked a few more dials, gave her two more views, then declared, \u201cNo change. Same as last year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  That irony set off a groan that rattled Evelyn\u2019s throat and she coughed lightly to disguise the sound. But her eyes betrayed her with a rim of tears dampening her lashes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cThe drops bothering you?\u201d Dr. Rose asked, handing Evelyn a tissue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cNo, it\u2019s fine.\u201d She pressed the Kleenex to both eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s just\u2014you know. <em>Same as last year.<\/em> That\u2019s hardly the case.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose wheeled her stool closer to the examination chair. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. How is Brian?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  He was Dr. Rose\u2019s patient, too, so she knew all about his diagnosis and prognosis\u2014degenerative, debilitating, irreversible. Slowing the progression of the disease was the best possible outcome. But Evelyn saw changes every day\u2014a steady erosion that took away small bits of the husband she had lived with for thirty-one years. Somedays when she looked at Brian, she had a hard time finding him inside the disease.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cGood days and bad days.\u201d Evelyn repeated the mantra as she always did when someone asked about Brian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose laid her hand on Evelyn\u2019s forearm. \u201cThis is me you\u2019re talking to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn tried to hold the ophthalmologist\u2019s gaze but shifted to the dangling earrings peeking below the blonde, chin-length hair, then the collar of a pastel shirt worn under the white doctor\u2019s coat. Pink, maybe lavender\u2014it was hard to tell in this low light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cLizzy is having a tough time,\u201d Evelyn added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose made a sympathetic sound. \u201cSeeing her father struggle like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  <em>You don\u2019t know the half of it<\/em>, Evelyn wanted to say, but didn\u2019t. Two weeks ago, her twenty-eight-year-old daughter had announced that she and John were separating. What came next was a litany of things that Evelyn had never wanted to know about her son-in-law: gambling, online porn, checks bouncing, creditors calling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  She\u2019d never liked John\u2014so smug, the putdowns couched as teasing. That was the one consolation in all this; her daughter would finally be rid of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Then just as Evelyn had built her mental army against John, she\u2019d had to dismiss the troops. Liz had come over two nights ago to confide that they\u2019d gone into therapy, wanting to save their marriage. <em>Work it out\u2026 For the kids \u2026 Made a mistake \u2026 Such pressure at work.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Liz\u2019s words had scattered like a handful of marbles dropped to the floor, leaving Evelyn confused about what to think, say, or do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201c\u2014take care of yourself first,\u201d Dr. Rose was saying, and Evelyn tuned back in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d Evelyn said. \u201cWe\u2019re all staying strong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  This was the exit line most people waited for\u2014an escape hatch swinging open and releasing them from her uncomfortable reality. But Dr. Rose kept looking at her, head cocked to the side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn watched as the ophthalmologist extracted something from her lab coat and leaned down to the bottommost drawer of the desk in the corner. She heard a key turn, and Dr. Rose slid the drawer open. Craning her neck, Evelyn saw Dr. Rose extract a hard-sided eyeglass case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cTry these,\u201d Dr. Rose said, putting the case in Evelyn\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  <\/em>The glasses were black, with square lenses. \u201cI thought my prescription hadn\u2019t changed,\u201d Evelyn said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  \u201cThey\u2019re not that kind of glasses,\u201d Dr. Rose said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Evelyn tried them on. \u201cI can\u2019t see very\u2014whoa! That\u2019s weird.\u201d She clutched the arms of the examination chair as the lenses seemed to adjust to her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cPretty cool, huh?\u201d Dr. Rose leaned over and shined a small light into Evelyn\u2019s eyes, first the right, then the left. \u201cThe lenses read your retina and adjust.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn looked down at her lap. Suddenly, her thighs looked slimmer. But when she pressed her hands against her legs, she still felt the sponginess of lax muscles and soft flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose plucked the glasses off Evelyn\u2019s face. \u201cYou can\u2019t wear them all the time. No more than two hours a day\u2014that\u2019s the protocol for now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cProtocol?\u201d Evelyn repeated the word that echoed the latest from Brian\u2019s doctors who hoped to get him into a clinical trial for an experimental drug. <em>My life as a lab rat<\/em>, Brian always joked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cIt\u2019s a neuro-visual aid,\u201d Dr. Rose began, and explained that she\u2019d been part of a team, led by a friend at the College of Ophthalmology. They\u2019d developed a prototype meant to calm the brain with what she called \u201calternative visual stimulation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  A history teacher for twenty-five years, Evelyn spent as much time in the past as she did the present but considered herself reasonably well-read about the latest in technology\u2014at least what she could understand of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cArtificial intelligence? Or is it virtual reality?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Dr. Rose nodded. \u201cMore of the first, less of the second. I mean, this is not full immersion VR. You\u2019re not going to see dinosaurs or galaxies or something. It just changes your perception enough to minimize your stressors. Your view shifts, your brain relaxes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn reached for the glasses. \u201cIt makes things better.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cOr at least appear that way,\u201d Dr. Rose added. \u201cBut we\u2019re finding with the test group that more optimism means being better at finding solutions and coping with problems.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn stared down at her lap, watching her thighs narrow by a half-inch again. \u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t everyone want them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  \u201cThat\u2019s what we hope. We have a clinical trial underway, but well\u2014\u201d Dr. Rose bit her lip. \u201cI\u2019ve known you for so long, and with Brian\u2019s condition \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  Evelyn held up her hand. \u201cSay no more. I\u2019ll test them out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0   Dr. Rose handed her a thick folder of materials. \u201cI\u2019ll need you to review and sign, including the nondisclosure. You\u2019re not officially part of the trial, but I want to treat you as if you are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0  An hour later, Evelyn emerged from the ophthalmologist\u2019s office into the bright sunshine of a late June day. Enough of the dilation eyedrops had worn off to make it bearable to walk down the street in prescription sunglasses. Having read every paper and watched the mandatory 28-minute video on a computer at the office, Evelyn understood that the Rose glasses\u2014as she now thought of them\u2014were not to be worn for more than an hour at a time, and no more than two hours maximum. And never while driving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That night, Brian dropped a plate, sending shards of stoneware and the remnants of a salad and a pork chop across the eat-in kitchen. He\u2019d been steadying himself with one hand on the back of his chair and then the kitchen island, trying to reach the dishwasher. Somewhere en route, his hand had spasmed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hearing the crash from the pantry where she\u2019d just set a bottle of olive oil onto the shelf, Evelyn came running, expecting to find Brian on the floor. What she found struck her as far worse: her sixty-year-old husband\u2014once a long-distance runner and an avid cyclist\u2014slumped over the counter in tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, to guide him back to his chair. \u201cWhat happened? Tell me what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI can\u2019t do anything,\u201d Brian sobbed. \u201cNothing! My body is defeating me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn thought of the very short walk they\u2019d taken slowly around the block before dinner\u2014the evening mild, Brian in good spirits. It must have tired him out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Then she remembered the glasses. \u201cI\u2019ll be right back,\u201d she promised. \u201cJust sit here. Thirty seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  She ran from the kitchen to their upstairs bedroom. The quilted bedspread bore the imprint of where Brian had taken a nap earlier in the day, something he would never have done a year ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Evelyn retrieved the glasses from her top dresser drawer, the case as black as a coffin amid a sea of white and champagne-colored folded lingerie. She felt a moment of vertigo as the lenses read her retina and adjusted to her vision. The sensation passed quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Brian sat where she\u2019d left him\u2014but now with his back straight, his shoulders square. When he turned, she saw how relaxed he looked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  \u201cSee? It\u2019s fine now,\u201d she told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  \u201cI dropped the plate,\u201d Brian said. \u201cRight out of my hand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Evelyn laughed, and Brian looked surprised. \u201cYou know we only have service for six, right? Because I broke one of the plates about a month after we bought them\u2014and another one two weeks later. Plates break. So do coffee mugs and glasses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  She bent down to touch his face. \u201cYou\u2019re still you\u2014and always will be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  The glasses slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  \u201cI needed to hear that,\u201d Brian said and hugged her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Two nights later, a knock just before dinner brought Evelyn to the back door. She turned on the porch light, and there Lizzy stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWhat are you knocking for, silly?\u201d Evelyn said through the open doorway, but her daughter didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cDad here?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhere else? He\u2019s in the living room,\u201d Evelyn replied. \u201cDo you want me to get him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNo. I don\u2019t want him to hear this. I don\u2019t want to upset him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn pointed to a bench in the garden, which Brian had given her two years ago for Mother\u2019s Day. \u201cWe\u2019ll sit outside. I\u2019ll get my sweater and come right out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn noticed Brian napping in his chair in the living room and left him undisturbed. Upstairs, she grabbed a sweater from her drawer, along with the Rose glasses. She had them on when she joined Lizzy on the bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cYou\u2019re looking good, sweetheart,\u201d she told her daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lizzy made a face and pulled the sides of her unzipped windbreaker together. \u201cI doubt that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn brushed a strand of hair from Lizzy\u2019s forehead, watching it curl around her finger. She\u2019d always thought of Lizzy\u2019s hair as straight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWe\u2019re done,\u201d her daughter said. \u201cTwo sessions with the therapist and John said forget it. He\u2019s not going to change. Can\u2019t change. Doesn\u2019t want to change.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Evelyn heard the words and the sadness in Lizzy\u2019s voice but focused instead on the glint of resolve in her daughter\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou\u2019re going to get through this\u2014better than ever. You are strong and brave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cBut Tessa?\u201d Lizzy protested. \u201cShe wants to know when Daddy\u2019s coming home. Even Jordan\u2014he\u2019s still in diapers, but he notices.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn took her daughter\u2019s soft hand in hers, seeing a fresh manicure where just the other day the polish had been chipped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cYour babies\u2014my grandchildren\u2014are with you in a loving, safe home. You have to trust yourself, Lizzy. You can do this. And I\u2019ll be there for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cBut Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn admired her daughter\u2019s brave and beautiful face. \u201cYour dad loves you, and that\u2019s all you need to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Three days later, Dr. Rose called to ask about the glasses. Evelyn spared no words in her praise. \u201cMy stress is so much less. And I can sleep at night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Twice Dr. Rose asked how often she wore them, and both times Evelyn assured her that she kept it to two hours, maximum. \u201cAnd only when things get stressful. They help\u2014they really do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A sudden thought occurred to Evelyn. \u201cAm I going to have to give them back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Dr. Rose sighed. \u201cEventually, but not now. You\u2019re giving us valuable feedback. Yours is a particularly stressful situation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; On the following Saturday, Brian\u2019s brother, Dave, came by unexpectedly. \u201cHow about I take you both out to lunch?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was a good day for Brian, his energy and his spirits up. That gave Evelyn an idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWhy don\u2019t you two go?\u201d she suggested. \u201cI\u2019ve got some gardening.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She helped Brian with his jacket, smoothing the collar and brushing his hair with her fingertips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThank you,\u201d he said, and kissed her lightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Heading out into the garden, Evelyn brought her heavy gloves, clippers, and a nontoxic fungicide that promised to ward off blight in roses. She took off her sunglasses and grabbed another pair of glasses out of her pocket to read the instructions on how to mix and apply the solution. Her vision blurred then cleared. \u201cTwo capfuls per gallon of water,\u201d she read aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; After preparing the mixture, she filled a spray bottle and headed over to the roses. The leaves were perfect ovals with slight points at the end. The blossoms unfurled delicate petals, each one worthy of a florist\u2019s bouquet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn checked every rosebush but found no traces of blight. Since she\u2019d mixed up the solution, she gave the leaves a few sprays for good measure, then busied herself deadheading the snapdragons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She had to admit her garden never looked better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  A bee droned, solitary\u2014pulling its fat body into a dangling blossom of a fuchsia plant. Evelyn always worried about the dwindling number of pollinators and planted flowers that would attract them. Suddenly, she saw a dozen bees in the garden, all moving in unison. She hadn\u2019t seen that many in months\u2014maybe years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Humming to herself as she pulled a few weeds, Evelyn got the idea that she and Brian should take a road trip. Not far\u2014she\u2019d have to do all the driving. But if they went to their favorite place along the lake, they could be there in less than three hours. Leave early on a Saturday, spend the night, and come home Sunday afternoon. Brian would love it, and the trip would be good for both of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Charmed by the plan she\u2019d just hatched, Evelyn answered the phone with a lilt in her voice. \u201cHello!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cEvie, it\u2019s Dave. Brian\u2019s had a seizure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The trowel in her hand clattered to the brick walkway through the garden. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019re at McMurphy\u2019s, having a burger. Then he just\u2014Oh, God. Evie. The ambulance is here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI\u2019ll get my keys,\u201d she stammered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThey\u2019re taking him to Good Mercy. We\u2019ll meet you there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn stood in the middle of her garden, watching the graceful heads of the flowers bob on the pulse of a light breeze. For a moment, it was all so pretty, she hated to leave it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <em>Go! <\/em>She ordered herself. Shucking off her garden gloves, Evelyn ran inside for her purse and car keys. As she switched into her sunglasses for driving, Evelyn saw what she\u2019d been wearing all along without realizing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And that\u2019s when she knew. The blight hadn\u2019t left the roses. The aphids still infested the vegetable patch. She just hadn\u2019t seen any of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sedated, Brian slept in a hospital bed, the heart monitor beeping steadily, his chest rising and falling with each breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cDoctor says he\u2019ll be okay,\u201d Dave said. \u201cThey\u2019re not sure what happened. Maybe a reaction to the meds. Could be his brain misfiring\u2014or something like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn pressed her hand against her husband\u2019s shoulder, feeling the warmth of a body that was as familiar as her own. Then she looked up into the careworn face of her brother-in-law.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve been in\u2014\u201d She thought of the black-rimmed glasses she\u2019d thrown across the kitchen counter. \u201cIn denial. I keep wanting things to be better than they are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cYou gotta have hope,\u201d Dave said. \u201cOtherwise, what is there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Evelyn stepped out of the room to call Lizzy, and she came nearly an hour later, having persuaded John to come over to the house to stay with the children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The three of them sat together around Brian\u2019s bed. They talked a little, but conversations never lasted very long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cYou go home, Dave,\u201d Evelyn said, giving him a grateful hug. \u201cI\u2019ll keep you posted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Brian stirred but slept on. Nurses came and went. A doctor checked his vitals and explained they\u2019d keep Brian overnight and run more tests in the morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI\u2019m going to stay here,\u201d Evelyn told Lizzy. \u201cYou need to go home and take care of your children. Nothing is going to happen to your dad.\u201d <em>Not tonight, <\/em>she added silently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lizzy leaned down and kissed her father, then hugged Evelyn. \u201cI keep remembering what you told me. That I\u2019m strong and brave\u2014and I can get myself and my kids through this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <em>The glasses<\/em>, Evelyn thought. She\u2019d said a lot of things while wearing them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then she realized that Lizzy was still waiting for a response. \u201cYou\u2019re stronger than ever. And I\u2019m here for you. Your dad is, too, to the best of his ability.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A nurse brought her a blanket, and Evelyn made herself comfortable in the chair in the corner of the room. She didn\u2019t read or turn on the television or scroll on her silenced phone. All she did was look at Brian\u2014taking in every line and pore and strand of hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Leaning forward, Evelyn touched his arm lightly. \u201cI\u2019ve been thinking, honey. When you\u2019re feeling better, we\u2019re going to take a little road trip\u2014just the two of us. We\u2019ll go to the lake. Doesn\u2019t that sound nice?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 His eyelids fluttered. It was a subtle, but undeniable sign he had heard her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWe\u2019ll go,\u201d she promised him, not really caring if it ever would come to pass. What mattered most was truly seeing him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large is-resized\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\" width=\"200\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator is-style-wide\"\/>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:39px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"640\" height=\"480\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-rotated.jpg\" alt=\"Dr Rose's Glasses\" class=\"wp-image-10091\" srcset=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-rotated.jpg 640w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/IMG_0525-370x278.jpg 370w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\" \/><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Original Fiction Patricia Crisafulli<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10090","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v15.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Dr. Rose\u2019s Glasses | Faith Hope &amp; 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