My New Husband
The optometrist said it’s only a slight astigmatism, that he’d probably only notice it when reading, or using the computer, or when he’s especially tired. We went to pick out glasses the same day, because Kris stares at his computer a lot.
“Maybe I’ll read as fast as you now.” He joked.
When the glasses were ready he sped into the city to pick them up while I finished packing for our Christmas trip home. On the ride out to the airport, I kept looking at him. He ignored my stares and thought his own thoughts. Since I was driving I could not stick my nose in his ear and exhale loudly, lick his face, or do any of the other petty annoyances that usually win his attention; I just kept peeking. I was surprised by how much I liked them. And by another reaction that I couldn’t quite place.
We’d chosen super light frames, with small, rimless lenses. The glasses are nearly invisible. And yet.
At the airport food court we ate teriyaki while a jazz trio riffed on White Christmas, and I watched him from every angle. He finished eating and sat quietly, eyebrows slightly raised, lost in his own thoughts.
And there it was.
He looked exactly right, sitting there daydreaming in his subtle eyewear. Somehow, the glasses complemented his thoughtful expression. Wearing them, he looked intelligent, gentle, and dreamy.
His look suddenly a perfect reflection of his nature.
