Chapter 1

David Stein sat nervously in his optometrist's waiting room on a cool spring morning. The doctor was an old friend—the only type he had, for he had no time for making friends anymore. Paul Lipkin's solo practice was located at the far end of one of those soulless strip malls that infest so many towns. Next door sat a Laundromat; beyond it, a Chinese restaurant. Though the waiting room needed paint and new carpeting, David knew the equipment was top of the line and that his friend was a very good optometrist.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at his watch, calculating how late he would be. Exasperated, he looked over the top of the lenses to get a clearer image. His boss was never happy when David asked for time off, and the timing of this appointment had been especially poor. It was only when David pointed out that his deteriorating vision was slowing him down that the man relented.

David was one of only two commercial artists working for the largest such firm in what they lovingly and laughingly called the metro area. On his desk were two projects marked urgent and another marked special, in addition to all the lesser jobs awaiting his attention. Again he would have to work half the night to keep up to date. Again he would miss his sons' ball game. Yet again, they would be disappointed, and yet again he would hear about it from his ex-wife.

As he waited, David worried a molar with his tongue. It had begun to feel loose yesterday. With the eye doctor visit today, he had no idea when he would find time for the dentist. Of course, he and the dentist were not the closest of companions and hadn't been for the past several years, since David's late twenties. No, Dr. Ravini would have to wait.

He peered at his watch yet again, and the worry lines on his forehead deepened. All the magazines scattered about him that he couldn't read mocked him as he squirmed in his chair. Finally, his name was called. The doctor ushered him into the padded chair and the two men exchanged greetings.

"So, David, when did you start to have this problem with your glasses?"

"I started noticing the change, uhm, incrementally quite a while ago, but it's just been getting worse and worse the last three weeks, Paul. It's getting to where I'm better off without them."

"Three weeks is a long time," Paul lectured, "not to mention your 'quite a while ago'. You could have permanent damage we might've avoided if you'd come in right away."

"I know, but it's hell getting away from work."

The doctor grunted, and David could see the mild disgust on his face. Paul had never been good at hiding his feelings; David could recall winning many a poker game against him in happier days.

"Well, let's see what we have going on and work from there," he continued, swinging the familiar glasses-on-steroids in front of David's face.

The examination went quickly as Paul expertly flipped through the choices, asking "better or worse?" until he was satisfied. He moved aside that instrument and rolled in another to peer at his patient's retinas. David then looked at little houses with trees and suffered through blasts of air against his hazel eyes.

Finally, Paul pushed aside the last of the instruments and regarded David closely. "Frankly," he said, "I'm puzzled and concerned."

David looked at him with a bit of fear. His livelihood depended on his eyes and he knew he'd been foolish to delay.

"I want you to see an ophthalmologist," Paul continued. "What I'm seeing requires an MD, not just an OD like me. David, your eyes are not getting worse, they're getting better, substantially better. In fact, I don't see anything wrong, per se. Your retinas were, and still are, fine.

"In terms that will mean more to you, your uncorrected vision at your last exam was 20/400 in one eye and 20/500 in the other. Both eyes are now... " Paul paused to recheck his notes, "20/30 and your astigmatism has disappeared."

"So why do I need another doctor? Everything's good and getting better."

"The problem is how rapidly your vision has changed. While we expect some change over time, what I'm seeing is extreme in both the size of the change and the rate at which it's occurred. If the change stopped today, I'd be happy for you, but confused about why it happened. I'm worried about how this will play out, what will happen next week and the week after that. I can't tell you when and where it will stop. You need an ophthalmologist to find out why there's been such a radical change and try to control it."

"My insurance won't cover that, and it's too expensive. I can't handle an ophthalmologist," David stated.

"You're talking about your eyes. They're the only pair you're going to have. How will you work when you're blind? David, you're being penny wise and pound foolish."

"I'll never get the time off. It's impossible."

Paul closed his eyes and considered what to do. He couldn't physically force a patient to do anything. He could forcefully present the options, but only the patient could follow through. He'd played poker with his friend often enough to know that David could be foolishly stubborn. The best he could do was to keep in tight contact so he could monitor David's condition. He opened his eyes, deciding that if straightforward didn't work, then sneaky was called for.

"Alright," he said. "No ophthalmologist for now. But, I want to see you every week until I'm sure that your eyes are safe."

"I told you. I can't afford the money and I can't afford the time off."

Paul stared him down. "Every Thursday, I want to see you here at 8:00 in the morning. That'll be enough time for a quick look at your eyes and a cup of coffee. You'll still be at your desk by 9:00. I won't take no for an answer."

"I still can't afford an office visit every week. I just can't swing the money."

Paul smiled and sprung the trap. "Luckily, the office doesn't open until 9:00, so I can't charge you."

"I won't take charity, Paul," replied David with a little heat, and crossed his arms. "No matter how nicely you put it."

Turning up the heat, Paul leaned forward and shot back, "Listen David, this is not charity."

He backed off and continued in a gentler voice, "We've known each other since, what, forever? Who, may I ask, got me through high school physics? I'd be selling insurance right now if it weren't for you."

"That was nothing," David's hand waved off Paul's comment as he spoke. "I had to study anyway."

"Yeah, and who took my keys last Fourth of July and wouldn't let me drive back from the Men's Club barbeque?" continued Paul. "I've never even mentioned this to my wife, but my cab was stopped at a DWI checkpoint. The cop looked at me and told me how smart I was not to drive. Do you have any idea how much money and embarrassment you saved me? How many patients do you think I would have lost when my arrest was reported in the paper?" Paul paused for effect, giving David time to process his story.

"David, friends do things for each other. So please, let me start to pay you back for some of the things you've done for me. Please?"

Paul sat quietly, watching David's expression change as he worked through his dilemma. After a minute he looked at Paul and nodded. "OK. I'll do it," he said reluctantly.

Paul smiled. "Great. I'll make the coffee. You bring donuts; cookies would be fine, too. Now then, I don't want you wearing those glasses anymore. If you want, you can go to a drugstore that has reading glasses. Choose one quarter diopter strength, but don't pay more than ten to fifteen dollars. You may not need them for more than a couple of weeks."

He tapped the keyboard to save David's file and settled back in his chair.

"So, how are the boys?"

"They're fine. I spend most Sundays with them. How are Becky and your kids?"

"Becky's just getting over a cold, but besides that, we're all doing very well. Are you seeing anyone?"

David flushed and fought to keep a frown from his face. 'You just had to ask about his family, damn it. Next time just answer his question and leave it at that.'

Paul had, innocently, stepped into forbidden territory. Anything remotely related to the divorce remained a closed subject with David. He'd been angry with Abby at the time, and he still was, although it had faded from the sharp jab through his heart he'd felt initially. Now it was more of a dull ache that hung like a miasma over his soul.

He'd been confused when she said that she wanted to divorce him, and he was even more so now. He knew she'd been unhappy for some time about his workload, but she had handled it. Or so he'd thought. Seemingly overnight his job went from a sore point to a fatal flaw.

Three years ago, a haze of befuddlement had surrounded him and masked his sense of loss, that gut-wrenching feeling of abandonment. But even now that he was thinking more clearly, he remained clueless as to what had set her off. The wound of the divorce hadn't begun to heal because he gave it no attention; he paid it no mind at all. He pushed aside anything that reminded him of what he couldn't ignore, choosing to stay within the four cubits of his regimented life.

"No, Paul. I'm not dating." He struggled a bit as he rose from the chair. "Listen, I appreciate all your help, but my boss expected me back a half hour ago, so I have to run."

Paul walked him through the waiting room and the outside door where they shook hands again on the sidewalk. "I'll see you next Thursday, bright and early. Don't make me come looking for you."

On the way back to his office, David stopped at a chain drugstore and bought a pair of reading glasses. Sitting in his car in the parking lot, he cut off the tags and tried them on.

"Wow," he whispered. "I'd forgotten how the world really looked."

"I'm back from the eye doctor," he reported after knocking on Dennis Lapin's door frame.

The firm's owner looked up briefly then returned his attention to the papers on his desk. "Good. You aren't going to have to go back again, are you? You can't afford to let your work pile up any more than it already has. I see he gave you new glasses already. Is that why you took so long?"

David knew his boss didn't truly care this way or that as long as the work was done, so, answering only those questions he wanted to, he reported, "No, I won't have to go back. I'll make sure that I'm caught up before I leave today."

"Good," Dennis said, bluntly dismissing David. "Tell Rachel to step in here."

After delivering the message, David slid into his chair and called up his first priority job. It was a major rework of an existing product package. Eventually, the entire product line would be changed, and this was the first item.

'I wonder if there's really anything new, or if it's just the boxing that's new. If I had to guess, I'd say it's some marketing executive justifying his job, ' David mused. 'Ah well, either way it helps pay the bills.'

He worked quickly and accurately. He moved design elements from one place to another. He changed colors, some by no more than a hue. When he was done, the package proudly announced itself as new and improved, and David made sure that everyone would notice it.

Skipping lunch, he finished one job and began the next. David's back and joints were aching again. He sat too much, he knew, and would feel it for the next few days. 'What else is new?'

At 2:30 he dialed the phone number that was once his to tell his ex-wife that he wouldn't be at his sons' ball game.

'Lousy, crummy cubicle! I can't even get a little privacy to make a phone call. There're two empty offices and I'm stuck here. Andrew has an office and he doesn't do a third of the work I do.'

"Hello, David," she answered. "What excuse shall I give the boys this time?"

Abby Stein had pretty much expected the call, having received so many over the years. When the phone rang, she was unsure what emotion was foremost. Was it the disappointment she knew she'd see again on her sons' faces? Was it the disgust she felt for her ex-husband's lack of feeling for his sons? Was it her own pain for the love she'd lost?

Thank goodness for caller ID. It allowed her to prepare herself and mask all she felt with an emotionless voice, as flat as Kansas.

"That's not fair," David objected.

"Not fair?" Abby shot back. "What's not fair is disappointing your sons one more time on top of the countless other times. What's not fair is making me do your dirty work. I'm the one who has to look them in the eye and tell them. I'm the one who has to keep my cool so I don't look like I'm dumping on their father in front of them. Goodbye, David!" she yelled, and hung up. Had it not been a cordless phone she would surely have slammed the handset back onto the phone. She settled for repeatedly pounding the arms of her chair.

The cool distant demeanor had steadily fallen away throughout the conversation as her anger surged forward. "Damn him. Damn him. Goddamn him. Why can't he put his sons first once in a while? Is it too much to ask for? Damn him for leaving me alone."

Even knowing her children would be home soon, as the pain punched through the anger, Abby couldn't hold back her tears. Sinking back in her chair, she cried for her sons' pain and disappointment. She cried for her love lost and the love she still carried. She cried, fearing what would happen when her sons fully felt the fragmentation of their family.

Sinking back in his chair, David sarcastically said, "Well, that went well." He'd meant to say it to himself, but out it slipped, audible to the adjoining cubicles.

Embarrassed by his slip, David continued silently. 'Why's she that way? I didn't get a hello. I didn't even get a chance to say why I was calling. She just went straight to the attack. I'm supporting two households, her decision, and she wonders why I can't just drop everything to watch a ball game for two hours.

'A man has responsibilities that he has to look after, damn it. When his responsibilities are completed, then he can relax and enjoy himself. She knows that money doesn't fall from the skies. What did I ever do to deserve this?'

His thoughts remained focused on his financial obligations and, yet again, Abby's words never disturbed the orderliness he had created.