The Moment
Though I couldn’t see who shouted out, I heard, “Jadyn is with Jaden!”
It would be the first of many times during the week that those words would be paraphrased for my ears. I guess everyone enjoys the symmetry of a tryst between couples with a shared name. The week had begun like no other because on Sunday evening Jaden had asked me out on a date. So this next Friday night will be my first authentic date alone in a car to go for dinner and a movie.
Since the beginning of the school year, I’d seen Jaden around and had hoped to meet him but he never seemed to take notice of me. He gravitated towards a smarter group of kids including the girls. Not meaning to sound judgmental, because that’s the group I aspire to join, but I could tell that, mostly by the way they looked. They were the less sensitive girls who were unlikely to be concerned about “following the crowd”; the clever ones enrolled in difficult advanced subjects; the plucky ones that often wear glasses. And though I consider myself attractive, feminine, and perceptive of fashion, I am more intellectual than most fifteen year olds. I think it took Jaden a while to discover that.
Last week, he connected with me at a pep rally bonfire. Because of our shared name, albeit a different spelling, our attachment was immediate. Before long, he had my phone number and I had a pledge that he would call. My parents had promised to allow me to begin dating at the beginning of the school year. Now, nearly half way through it, I would finally get my chance.
But today was particularly special because it was the Monday for which I had been waiting; the day that the members of my Driver’s Ed class got to test for our learner permits. My first date and the ability to drive a car; what two things could possibly be more thrilling for a girl my age?
When I arrived at school, Jaden had been waiting at the main entrance. I didn’t notice him until I made it to the top of the steps. He held my hand, walked me to class, and we talked. There was nothing that could have made me felt more desirable. I regard myself to be reasonably independent but I’m not immune to the sensation of being touched appropriately. And to me that seemed like progress towards womanhood.
After arriving at my first class, the rest of the morning was a blur. I sat in my front-row desk and began to dream of my fantasies. As the day progressed, my thoughts shifted more towards the Driver’s Ed class. I couldn’t wait to get my permit. Though it would be at least six months before I could experience the freedom of the open road by myself, it was a start. The idea of going places on the path that I chose was especially appealing. For now, I would have to settle for merely learning to control a vehicle. But soon, I could make even more progress towards womanhood.
After lunch, I finally entered the Driver’s Ed classroom. I was excited beyond description. By evening, I could be driving with one of my parents in the car. Searching for my friend, Kara, I eventually found her waving frantically to gain my attention.
“Jeez, I thought you’d never see me,” she teased. “You’re getting worse by the day.”
Before I could question what Kara meant, our teacher interrupted to describe the procedure.
“Students, listen up,” he spoke. “As promised, the state examiners are here to administer the testing. The written exams are face-down on your desks. All questions are multiple guess. Read the instructions . . . and choose your answers. When you are finished, get in line for the vision test. You may start . . . now.”
I read methodically through each question. Perhaps my study had paid off because the answers seemed obvious. Without haste, the end of the test came quickly and my confidence was high as I handed my paper to one of the state examiners. He was busy grading the previous paper when I realized that I was only the third person to have completed the test. I watched patiently while more students filtered in behind me. Wearing glasses, Robert had no problem reading the letters. He was followed by Cynthia who sat, got adjusted, and then completed the vision test effortlessly.
I took the seat, comfortably crossed my legs and waited for instructions.
“Press your forehead against the top of the viewer and begin reading the letters, left to right,” the state examiner directed.
I did as asked, but paused for further instruction.
“You may begin anytime,” the examiner resumed.
“There aren’t any letters in view,” I replied, “just gray boxes”.
“Then, you will need to use your glasses,” she said respectfully.
“But I don’t have glasses,” I answered self-righteously.
“You probably will soon,” the examiner countered.
She didn’t respond inconsiderately. It was as though the examiner was simply stating fact. And I wasn’t trying to be belligerent, but I wanted a more thorough explanation than I was being given.
“Ma’am, I mean no disrespect but I really don’t understand.”
“It’s simple, Jadyn, you need glasses,” said a voice to my left.
I turned and looked up to see that Peter, a rather large classmate, had made the statement. He had always been sort of a smart aleck so I prepared to give him my nastiest look. It was then that I fully grasped the situation . . . that nearly the entire class was waiting in line . . . and watching me. Each of them had witnessed the event and listened to the exchange of conversation. Suddenly, I was quite embarrassed.
“May I try one more time?” I begged awkwardly.
“Go ahead,” she responded flatly. “Stranger things have happened.”
Once more, I pressed my forehead against the viewer only to see nothing more than gray boxes. To wet my eyes, I blinked several times then waited for the letters to appear. I squinted until my nose wrinkled but the boxes remained gray. Seemingly, there was no solution to my problem.
“How bad are my eyes, if I can’t see the letters in this viewer?” I persisted.
“Next,” an impatient voice screamed in a subdued manner from the line of students.
As my teacher began scolding someone about showing empathy, the state examiner replied.
“Honey, you need to have an examination with an eye doctor. You most likely need corrective lenses but only an expert can give you a diagnosis. After you’ve done that you can retake the vision test at any DMV.”
And with that, my denial was finalized. Dejectedly, I thanked her and returned to my desk. Everyone in class had heard the examiner tell me that I needed glasses. What could be more embarrassing? Sitting alone for several minutes, I considered my options. There must be some mistake. I’ve never needed glasses before. My vision has always been perfect. What would a Dept. of Motor Vehicles employee know about my eyesight? I mean, I know she’s just doing her job but she is no vision expert. She implied so herself. Maybe, I should simply retake the test at the local DMV.
“Here’s your written test, Jadyn,” Kara intruded while reseating herself. “You made a perfect 100!”
I contemplated the score without exhilaration.
“What are you going to do, now?” she pried.
“About what?” I asked.
“You know,” she whispered, “about getting glasses.”
“I don’t think I need glasses,” I rationalized, “I just couldn’t see the letters.”
“Duh,” Kara retorted sarcastically. “Why do you think that is?”
“Well, how would I know? What do you think I should do?” I countered intolerantly.
“Jadyn, you need to get your eyes checked. You probably just need to wear glasses. Lots of people do. It’s not like you’re the first!”
“Yeah, but I’ve always had perfect vision.”
“Everyone thinks they have perfect vision right up until the moment they find out they don’t,” a voice interrupted.
Kara and I turned to see that Moira had seated herself beside us.
“I thought the same thing before I got glasses,” she continued. “One instant you think your eyesight is ideal; the next you realize it isn’t. But don’t worry, even with glasses, you’ll be able to see perfectly again. Here, try mine.”
Moira removed her glasses and extended her hand.
“Go ahead,” she urged, “it won’t kill you to try them.”
Reluctantly, I took the glasses from her and held them for a minute. I really didn’t want to try them. They weren’t mine. They weren’t made for me. They couldn’t possibly help me see well. The glasses felt cold, medicinal, and appliance-like. But my initial impression changed the longer I held them. The plastic frames were tortoise-colored with a clear edging that glistened like something very ornate. And though the frames were bold and slightly chunky, they felt incredibly delicate. With the wide temple pieces that have been so popular, their oval shape was stylish and pleasing. That gave the lenses an especially fascinating character. They sparkled like crystal and the prescription appeared to possess great depth and purpose especially in the narrow corners of the ovals. It seemed remarkably important to avoid smudging them. Strangely enough, I sensed an odd attraction towards the glasses developing. As my inspection progressed, I found that the glasses had become extraordinarily appealing.
But the idea of wearing something on my face that seemed so fragile concerned me greatly. How easily would glasses bend or break? What would it be like to have the plastic devices resting on my nose and ears? How does one avoid getting smudges and scratches on the lustrous lenses? What would my eyes do when looking through the transparent objects with a prescriptive remedy? Would they strain and wrench from the effort? Would I feel cross-eyed?
“Yeah, go ahead,” Kara chided, “put them on. Everyone knows you need glasses anyway.”
Hearing her statement, I directed a confused look towards her but then decided to see for myself. What could it hurt? The temptation was growing. Holding the frames by my fingertips with both hands, I gently slid the enticing glasses over my ears and placed them on my nose. Before I could consider anything else, I suddenly realized that everything in the room had popped into focus! Unexpectedly, all objects were very concentrated with sharp and evident edges and seemed to step closer to me. The landscape was warped, arched, a bit distorted, and my eyes felt somewhat labored. But still, they could see very distinctly. Colors were deep and vivid. Posters on the walls were readable. Faces far and near were instantly recognizable. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible was it? It was, though. By wearing Moira’s glasses, I could see far better.
From the look on my face, she recognized my revelation.
“It’s cool isn’t it?” Moira said.
“Sort of,” I answered with reluctance trying to hide any enthusiasm.
It was extremely cool. I could see unexpectedly well. But why did I not know this before? If my eyes were so bad why had I not realized it? Everyone else pretended to be aware of it. There had to be more to this than my tiny group of friends understood. They were oversimplifying the solution.
“I don’t think I really need to wear glasses,” I heard my voice declare. “I mean my eyes are just going to seem worse if I do. They never missed seeing anything before now and I’ve never had trouble seeing in classrooms or anywhere else.”
“You’re kidding yourself,” Kara retorted. “You sit in the front row of every classroom and for a while now, you’ve been squinting to see everything more than a few feet away. Besides tell me, how are you going to pass the vision test to get your permit?”
Kara was right but I didn’t want to be convinced of that. Even with the incredible scenery I was experiencing, I wasn’t ready to accept a justification for wearing glasses. Yet, the sensation was exceptional beyond question. I could feel my eyes relax and then surrender to accept the script. It was as though they knew what they needed and were asking for more. The warped and distorted landscape that I described previously had settled into something more natural. My impression of looking through the lenses, at that moment, was one of having extraordinary vision. It felt supernatural. My eyesight was not only focused and bright, it was polished and enriched.
In my hands, the frames had looked gorgeous. On may face they felt snug and inviting. Though the frames weren’t quite fitted for me, they were more comfortable and lighter than I had anticipated. It was oddly like wearing a necklace, earrings, or any other striking accessory. I began to wonder if their color and shape were right for me. Did I look attractive? I reached to search for a mirror in my purse when I realized I was being watched by other kids in class. Instantly, I became very insecure again. All I’d wanted to do today was get my driving permit. I hadn’t asked for this drama or the embarrassment that went with it.
“I’ll prove it to you both,” I challenged with defiance, “I’ll sit on the back row in Algebra next hour. I promise I won’t have any more trouble in class than I do any other day.”
“I wish I could watch that,” Kara stated skeptically knowing she would be attending a different subject.
“Well, I’ll be there,” Moira added gently, “and I’ll sit on the back row and help Jadyn.”
I resented her choice of words, though. Why should I need help? As we walked towards the next classroom, though, the recognition became apparent. Having given the glasses back to Moira, I was fully aware that I couldn’t see to the ends of the hallways. I had no recognition of faces until they were in close proximity. Perhaps that explained why people often seemed to sneak up on me. I felt my eyebrows furrow into a squint when I attempted to see more. My confidence was beginning to wane. But as promised, I entered the doorway and walked to the back of the room. Since the final row was already occupied, Moira and I sat in desks in the next to last row. That would have to do. Hopefully, I could seek to prove my argument from that vantage point.
After gathering my papers and pencils, I discovered my argument had been settled already. From that distance, the face of my teacher, Mr. Butts, was completely unrecognizable. I squinted to no avail. It was like viewing the gray boxes. Mr. Butts’ head was a face-shaped object that was flesh-toned but completely devoid of features. It had no eyes, nose, mouth, or ears. I was utterly short-sighted with absolutely no hope of seeing anything at the front of the classroom.
I was predestined for a fate I had not acknowledged. In that moment, I felt needy and impaired. As class progressed, I realized that everyone around me was working feverishly and writing notes but I could do little more than stare at my textbook. It was the only thing I could read. My ability to function properly was mostly suppressed. The unfocused arm of Mr. Butts continued writing formulas and computations on the white board or so I assumed. Finally, at a stopping point, Moira removed her glasses and handed them to me. With complete humility, I placed them on my face, concentrated on the board, and quickly wrote everything in my notebook. When finished, I returned the glasses to Moira and focused again on things nearby. The rest of the class session continued in this manner of repetition.
Moira never spoke. She never scolded with an “I told you so”. She didn’t criticize in any way. Now, I understood what she had meant earlier when she said, “Everyone thinks they have perfect vision right up until the moment they find out they don’t.” That was an absolutely accurate assessment and for me it was an epiphany. No matter when it happens or how you find out, when you become aware of that realization it is unexpected. You can choose to deny the circumstances but not the remedy.
I guess Moira remembered her “moment” and was very forgiving of mine. Her explanation of the event was considerate and compassionate. The unselfish act of lending her glasses gave me a new point of reference. Not only was I self-conscious of the exhibition I was making of myself, at least to those at the back of the room that could witness my actions, but I was ashamed. Not ashamed of having poor eyesight; that wasn’t my fault. I was ashamed of letting myself be affected negatively by something that was common and fixable. Moira revealed to me that I wasn’t damaged or impaired in any way. I simply needed help seeing. Wearing glasses solved everything.
Glasses would allow me to drive. I could learn in a classroom from any seat. I should be able to walk the halls, go to a concert, or watch a movie without concern. It wasn’t any different than positioning the seat and mirrors before driving a car. Every individual needs things adjusted to fit them better. Some of us need glasses as a visual aid.
When class was over, I thanked Moira for helping then immediately dialed a number on my cell phone.
“Mom, hi, it’s Jadyn. I think I need an appointment to get my eyes checked. I probably need glasses.”
“Sure, baby,” she replied. “What makes you think that?”
“I couldn’t see the letters to pass the eye test for my driving permit. But then I tried using Moira’s glasses in Algebra and everything was much clearer.”
There; I’d done it. I couldn’t change my mind. There was no turning back. By Thursday afternoon, recently finished glasses were being fitted for my face. The frames were made in my size with lenses exclusively for my needs. Because Moira had told me to make sure they were perfectly comfortable and secure, I was being extra fastidious. As the oculist worked with my glasses, I was fascinated by their effect on my face. They were stunning. To highlight my features, I had chosen a totally black wayfarer style that was daring but not large and audacious. The beautiful mixture of colors in my eyes has always been a source of pride for me. Behind the shimmering lenses they were intense, distinct, and emphasized. I felt brilliant, alluring, and desirable.
Each time the oculist replaced the glasses to my face, I caught a glimpse of the wonderful vision I could soon expect. Once my eyes relaxed behind the lenses, seeing was effortless. When we left the optical shop, I marveled at the clarity of my eyesight. I couldn’t remember being able to see so perfectly ever. Maybe it was my imagination or maybe it was fact. Maybe it just didn’t matter anymore.
My mom was nice enough to stop by the DMV before closing time. Within minutes, my sight was being certified in a viewer, first one eye, then the other. With no struggle whatsoever, the letters were as dark and well-defined as the letters on the eye chart had been during the final moments of my doctor’s examination. The state examiner smiled at me, passed the paperwork to the clerical staff, and asked me to sit for a photograph. Moments later I was holding a new photo ID card marked with the words “Learner Permit”. Mom remarked that it was a great photo of me. It was then that I realized that I had been wearing my glasses. Huh. I really didn’t mind that. I look good in glasses.
When I arrived at school on Friday morning, Jaden was waiting at the main entrance. I saw him standing there long before I arrived at the steps. He put his arm around my shoulders, walked me to class, and we talked.
“Hey, Jadyn’s got glasses!” I saw Kara informing Moira.
It would be the first of many times during that day that those words would be paraphrased for my ears. I guess everyone enjoys the tidiness of someone being able to see properly.
“I do like your glasses,” Jaden added. You look really cute.”
“Thanks,” I replied a little embarrassed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see me in a different way.”
“I honestly can’t say that,” he confessed. “Let’s just say that I think I see you in a much better way. Smart and kinda hot! Besides, I knew it was only a matter of time before you got them. Everybody knew you needed glasses.”
I gave him a little pinch on the shoulder. Why had no one told me that before? I didn’t know I needed glasses.
“It will be nice to be able to watch the movie tonight without concern about where we sit in the theatre,” I justified.
Actually, it will be nice to see everything without apprehension. I am fine with wearing glasses, now. Maybe I’m better than fine; I think I kind of like it. I love how I look. Definitely, someday I will get more pairs to accessorize better. It’s hard to describe how they make me feel. The amazing view through my lenses can be almost seductive. Possibly, I just feel mature for choosing to enjoy wearing something that I have little choice in using. Perhaps that is progress towards womanhood.