~ Chapter 1 ~
“It’s a good thing you took the bus today, Señora Garcia. Try not to drive until your pupils return to their normal state,” a woman wearing scrubs announced.
Caramel-colored hair with blond highlights covering gray strands bounced as the woman shook her head. “I... I can’t see very well in my left eye,” she reported in a hushed tone.
She could just make out the doctor’s well-trimmed beard; the light flicked over her eyes.
“Your eyes are healthy for a woman of your age. The mydriatic that causes dilation can occasionally cause blurriness in some patients. Don’t worry, it should wear off in four to six hours,” he said soothingly.
“I see,” Xiomara began with a nod. “Gracias, Doctor." Taking the flimsy dark plastic lenses, the assistant handed her. “Oh, so much better, but...” she paused waving her left hand in her periphery. “I can’t see much, only some movement. And... my depth perception is off... It will come back, no?”
The Doctor nodded. “Yes, Xiomara, your vision should return as the dilation wears off.”
“Thank you again, Doctor,” she said, before checking out of the receptionist’s desk.
Stepping out of the small office, she grimaced. The bright midday sun nearly gave her dilated eyes a headache. She inhaled the warm Mediterranean breeze of summer in the Spanish coastal city.
Cars raced by; the aromas of exhaust and food trucks at lunch filled her nose. Taking her first steps, she briskly strode toward the nearby bus stop, her two-inch heels clacking on the sidewalk.
Stepping off the curb, the pavement rushed to meet her, she stumbled. “Oh!”
Shaking her head as if shaking would clear her vision faster, she bent over and lifted her knees to avoid the road and the curb She stopped at a parked food truck.
“Hola, Señora!” the man greeted.
“Hola, Señor,” she began. “May I get a shredded beef with guacamole?”
A nodding food truck man smiled at her. “Sí Señora, one carne coming up,” he chirped, as she handed over her cash.
She had only time to collect the aluminum-wrapped sandwich before the bus arrived. Stepping aboard, her foot caught the bottom step and she stumbled up the steps. “Oh, sorry Señor,” she muttered.
Digging out her transit card, she fumbled through swiping her payment. She couldn’t see faces on her left, so she sat.
“Hey!” a woman barked.
“Santa Maria! I’m so sorry, Señora.” Awkwardly, she turned to view the open seats.
The bus lurched into motion, she slid into a vinyl seat. Unwrapping her small sandwich, the savory flavors of peppered steak with the tang of banana peppers and guacamole danced on her tongue as she enjoyed her meal.
The bus jostled and bumped down the road. Having finished her meager lunch, she rose from her seat, and lifting her feet high to avoid the steps, she stumbled down the stairs. She exhaled. “I’d hate to be blind.”
She crossed the street inelegantly, half bent over to see the ground, but her left eye had limited peripheral vision, a car blared its horn at her. She hobbled across the street to the bank’s parking lot.
Pulling the bank doors open, she walked with her knees high, her feet stepping awkwardly over the entryway carpet. Her left hand out like a football player blocking invisible, onrushing opponents. She didn’t want to run over a customer she couldn’t see.
The high gloss tiled floor reflected the bright overhead lights of the bank’s interior. People sat in wide cozy chairs waiting for their appointments. Xiomara could feel their eyes boring into her. She snickered to herself, then began laughing at the thought, ‘How I must look to someone waiting for a loan?’ It sent her into a cackling, shrieking laugh as she lopped across the bank.
Xiomara recognized the unseen voice to her left. “Boss, we’ve already started the interviews,” her assistant manager announced.
Xiomara froze, she spun to see the man. “That was now? Oh! I’m so not ready. I... I can’t hardly see anything.”
The man shrugged. “Fontina and I can do it. We already interviewed Señor López. We can finish the other two without you if you’d prefer.”
She shrugged, then shook her head. “No, Fosh. The show must go on. It wouldn’t be professional. These people came here on their own time. I’ll join you for the remaining interviews, and you’ll ask most of the questions just as you had with Señor López. I wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway. How did it go with the gentleman?”
Fosh shrugged. “Not so well, I’m afraid. He was stoned.”
Xiomara gasped. “No! What shame. What’s with young people these days?”
Fosh cocked his head. “Boss, he’s sixty-four.”
Xiomara shook her head. “That’s no excuse for arriving to an interview high. We’ll drive on. Give me a few moments. I’ll meet you in the conference room.”
The man nodded while Xiomara sloughed off through the back of the bank, taking the elevator to the upper floor.
She shambled through her office. She didn’t see the potted plant sitting on the small table next to the light switch. The motion sensor tripped the lights, her hand flopped against the wall, groping for the button. She felt and heard the ceramic pot topple from the perch, crashing to the floor.
Squatting, she felt the broken plant container and the loose soil, she shook her head. “Damn!” she huffed. Rising from the floor, her head collided with the table the plant had once occupied.
She stumbled backward, more out of shock than pain. She was simply startled, as she hadn’t seen the table. She crawled away from the table, at her desk she pulled herself up. “Oh... now where did I put those applications?”
After a brief shuffle of papers, her slender olive-hued fingers closed over a stack of applications. She stepped high to avoid the loose soil. She grimaced as she stepped down the hallway to the conference room.
Clumsily she entered the room, her left hand floundered against the wall, she snickered. “Just making sure the wall was there, don’t mind the crazy lady,” she warbled.
“Uh, boss, this is the waiting room,” she heard her assistant manager say softly.
She blinked, and awkwardly she turned to see the two faces in the chairs waiting.
She nodded as she straightened her hair nervously. “Oh, Bueno. Carry on then,” she mumbled. She lifted her feet high, as she stepped over the door’s threshold.
She followed her assistant manager into the conference room.
The woman, the first of the two remaining female applicants, was invited in. The conference room was simple enough. Xiomara had seen the pictures on the wall before, though today she could barely see the print on the pages in front of her.
She had her head nearly an inch away from the resume when the woman entered. She nodded. “Buenas tardes you’re... Shillelagh Ramirez, no?”
The woman sat across from Xiomara, the assistant manager, and the lead teller. She shook her head. Auburn-colored, straight hair pulled back into an intricate French braid, her clean navy blue blazer and skirt were professional, as she cocked her head. “No...” she began before getting cut off.
“You’re not Shillelagh Ramirez?” Xiomara pressed.
The woman shook her head. “No Señora. I am not Shille...” she protested.
“Then who is Shillelagh Ramirez?” Xiomara grumbled.
The woman blinked. “I don’t know, I’m...” she began.
Xiomara’s caramel-colored hair bounced as she shook her head. “If you’re not Shillelagh Ramirez, why are you here? Somebody tell me what is going on por favor!”
Fosh shook his head. “Boss, this is Ashley Rodriguez.”
A nervous giggle escaped Xiomara’s lips. “Oh, dreadfully sorry. I... I can’t see very well you see,” she muttered, softly.
Ashley nodded. “I see...”
Xiomara cocked her head. “Yes, I’m sure you can.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “Well, yes, I can see.”
Xiomara shook her head. “No reason to rub it in. I’m perfectly aware that you can see. I can’t see, you see?”
Ashley blinked. “Uh, yes, I see that,” she replied, glancing at the lead teller and assistant manager.
Xiomara nodded. “Quite right, you should be able to see. Do you see the portrait of our bank’s President?” she said, extending a finger toward the wall.
“Uh, boss that’s the motivational mountain climbing picture.” Fosh offered softly.
“Right! That one over there,” she said, swinging her arm. Xiomara’s wrist collided with her lead teller’s face.
“Ow!” she gasped.
Xiomara jolted in her seat. “Oh dear me! Dreadfully sorry, Fontina,” she chirped.
Ashley cocked her head. “Yes Señora I see...” she began.
Xiomara nodded. “I’m glad you can see, but you needn’t remind me about how I can’t see, no?”
Ashley shook her head. “No? Yes?”
Xiomara inhaled. “And just what does that mean? I could be blind you know? And there are so many blind people in the world, imagine if you were blind, no? Would you like to be reminded of your disability?”
Ashley blinked. “No...”
“No? You don’t see blind people? What are you? Some sort of... person who doesn’t like blind people? You hate blind people, don’t you? I’m trying to apologize for not being able to read your name Shillel... Ashley,” Xiomara grumbled.
Ashely shook her head. “No... yes?”
Xiomara shook her head. “So you don’t know if you don’t want me to apologize, or that you can’t see blind people?”
Ashley shook her head. “I... I’m sorry but this is ridiculous.”
Xiomara nodded. “I see...” she began before being cut off.
Ashley shook her head. “No, you clearly don’t see.”
Xiomara cocked her head. “Are you prejudiced against blind people?”
Ashley’s eyes were wide as she glanced at the lead teller, and the assistant manager, who merely watched in confused befuddlement. “No, Señora, are... are you making fun of me? Is this a joke?”
Countering, Xiomara cocked her head. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Ashley cocked her head. “You’re joking, right? You’re wearing your lunch!”
Xiomara’s head snapped to her right. “Fosh! Why didn’t you tell me I looked a mess?”
Her assistant manager shook his head. “I offered to continue to take them with just Fontina and myself,” he protested.
Xiomara shook her head. “Oh, quite right, I suppose.”
Rising from the chair Ashley stormed out of the room without a second glance.
Xiomara shook her head. “Well...” she huffed. “Imagine how she would treat customers with disabilities?”
“Uh... boss you want me and Fontina to handle the last one?” her assistant manager probed.
Xiomara shook her head. “Oh don’t be silly, Fosh, I’m quite capable of sitting here.”
Fosh nodded. “You’re the boss, boss. Fontina, would you bring in the next applicant please?”
With a nod, Fontina rose and departed returning with the next candidate.
The woman nearly bounced over Fontina with excitement, she froze at the sight of the disheveled woman on the panel interview.
Peering through dark flimsy sunglasses, Xiomara’s head was nearly on top of the paper, “Is that an N, or an M?” she probed.
“It’s an M, boss, for Moira,” Fosh announced.
Xiomara nodded. “Oh, Bueno,” she began.
Moira inhaled. “Wow! What happened to you?” she blurted out. “Oh! I shouldn’t have said that, I’m always saying shit shouldn’t say, fuck I said shit. Damn! Oh, I’m gonna sit down now, I’ll try to stop talking,” she prattled.
Xiomara glanced at the others at the table, then back to Moira. Should couldn’t see much, only a mass of frizzy hair that bounced with as much energy as the woman’s foot moved. Xiomara raised an eyebrow. “Your Spanish is okay, but not from Spain, more Cuban, no?”
With a wide smile, Moira nodded, as her foot bounced. “Oh yes. I’m from Florida, the backside. The Gulf side, up by Alabama. Went to school in Miami, lots of Cubans there, University of Miami. I have a big family, and we like to play in the dirt too, it’s okay, it’s fun sometimes,” she said, looking at the at the dirt under Xiomara’s fingernails.
Nodding, Moira continued unabated. “Though I didn’t know there would be dirt at the bank. Sometimes though I spill my lunch on myself too, don’t worry about it, it washes out just fine. It’s better if you take off the shirt before you eat a messy meal, or have a bib,” she chirped.
Xiomara blinked. “Santa Maria, you’re a chatterbox, aren’t you?”
Moira nodded. “Especially when we’re nervous, I mean when I’m nervous. I just get so nervous, and excited.”
Xiomara nodded. “Well, I had an accident cause I couldn’t see,” she offered.
Moira nodded. “Oh I see, I mean not that you can’t see. It’s okay that you can’t see. I can’t see either when I’m asleep.”
Xiomara raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this chatty?”
Moira bit her lip, she nodded faintly then exhaled. “Yes. Unfortunately. I talk a lot.”
Xiomara cocked her head. “Do you talk with customers like this?”
Moira shrugged. “Yes, and... maybe no. Sometimes I hug them too. Some smell so nice, and some not so nice. Oh! One time at a check cashing place I worked...” she began.
“That’s okay. I think we get the gist. How did you keep transactions going when you talk so much?” Fosh asked, with furrowed brows.
Moira nodded. “Of course. We can, I mean, I’m really great at thinking two things at the same time. Everyone in my family is like that. We can hold conversations and still focus on, on um like work stuff, even hunting,” she trilled.
Xiomara raised an eyebrow. “Hunting? We don’t have hunting in a bank.”
Moira nodded, “Oh yes, but you have dirt. I used to play with sticks in the dirt, but scissors work better for cutting paper.”
Xiomara shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Scissors? They’re crucial, how else would you cut the plastic bands off the cash? Or give haircuts without scissors? If you were a fruit, what sort of fruit would you be?” Moira chirped.
“Santa Maria! What is this? This is not my interview,” Xiomara huffed.
Moira cocked her head. “It isn’t? You’re here, no?”
“Well, yes I suppose. But I’m here for you...” Xiomara began.
Grinning widely, Moira nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And I’m here for you.”
Xiomara exhaled, “Fosh, I think I have a headache from my eye exam. I need to step out. I’ll let you wrap up with the Señorita.”
Collecting her papers, Xiomara sloughed out of the room, grateful to have survived the onslaught of fate and fortune.
