Sunglasses

By Debi McKee [Winner: 1st Place]

--

The sun rose on Nixie’s little beach town. It wasn’t the kind from 80s movies, montaged with the Surfaris playing, pristine and gleaming, but it was beautiful nonetheless. She walked down the seaside road in early mornings, drifting past the old tug boats, mussels slowly tearing down piers, and wooden shacks in yellow fields swaying in the breeze. The air was cold and moist when the sun was low, even during the summer. It was worth it to take the long way to school.

Her family always called her eagle-eyed, because she was. Maybe some combination of genetics and her daily activity of skateboarding with friends let her eyesight remain as far-reaching as the ocean sprawling past the horizon and her young sense of possibility.

The buildings of her schools were peeling white, and the teachers were also old and weathered, but she did her work. The only fixture that didn’t desperately need repainting was the old water tower somehow remaining on campus, made of creepy streaky dark brown wood, that Nixie and her friend group would hang out under when they weren’t traversing through the town. With them, she got to explore every nook and cranny of where she was born and raised.

That friend group, the skaters, gave her some of her best memories during middle school. She was grateful for her parents’ agreed policy: she could go anywhere as long as they knew where and for how long. They didn’t really care if it was true or not, either. They also let her friends come up to her room, wander into the house uninvited without batting an eye. Her two siblings always eyed them, but they were either just too boring or jealous. Nixie liked how the skaters lived for the moment, it led to ridiculous adventures she wasn’t brave enough to jump into without them guiding her hand. But she always did wonder, what would become of them after highschool? Would they stay here forever? In this collapsing little town.

That was the past. Nixie had been hanging out entirely with Sarika, who moved in during the pandemic, but it seemed like destiny to both of them. There was the magnetic pull of something stronger than strangers since they first met, maybe karma, or something equally mysterious. Nixie did believe in karma, like she believed in currents under the ocean that carry seaweed thousands of miles that aren’t visible from the surface.

In April 2019, light started breaking.

Before the start of the pandemic, some astigmatism had developed in Nixie’s eyes. Her first time noticing was while biking down the streets with her skater friends. She was the only one without a board. But as they rode into the downtown, the traffic lights and streetlights didn’t have a normal faint halo of light around them. They were starbursting, like night stars in children’s drawings. Weird, there must be more humidity in the air than usual tonight, she rationalized. As she focused on a single light, it mostly dissipated, but not the other lights crowding everywhere, filling the corners of her sight, light points reaching for her and trying to obscure her vision. It looked as though she had been transported to a world where each bulb of light had exploded, but time slowed to a standstill and the fractured flash froze forever.

Too late she refocused her attention on the road, and her body jolted as the front bike wheel slammed into something. All the lights turned into comets flying past her head as she tumbled over the handlebars and crashed onto the pavement.

Embarrassingly, she soon found out she had run into the curb. Her friends heel-braked their skateboards and quietly laughed as they helped her up. She stretched out her sore body, and as she determined nothing was severely hurt, laughed along with them.

Maybe there was a slight anxiety gnawing at her, but she truly didn’t think her eyes could get any worse than that.

They did. But not at first. At first there was hope.

The pandemic is when everything went downhill, and everyone learned loneliness. Her dad especially saw great danger, even in walking on the empty October trails by the beach. He was a pharmacist, working hard after escaping Appalachia. Somehow, her slender, willowy mother who smelled like potpourri and essential oils, even with her sporadic wariness of pharmaceuticals, was a perfect match for him. They all lived harmoniously until the pandemic hit, when so did her father’s paranoia. Everything outside was contamination, and her family was kept firmly indoors. The beautiful little life that Nixie had to herself crumbled.

In August 2020, when quarantine settled in, the sights became strangely blurred.

When Nixie realized it wasn’t just a fluke, she knew her eyes needed some serious correcting to return to how they once were. That’s when she remembered the saying, “You use it or lose it.” Every morning, it was the first thing on her mind. To gain back control over her own vision. Staring for a while into the distance should suffice, coupled with eye exercises. Her routine took shape, which she devoutly completed every day.

A part of this pandemic-spurred routine was staring at the view from her glass door. She could see the lichen-coated roofs of houses, tops of trees, and above that, hills rising in the distance. But from the balcony right outside her room, the sea was visible, over to the left. It was either sparkling in sunlight or matte navy under overcast skies. She spent a lot of time on the balcony.

Sarika moved into town just a few months after the lockdown began. From meeting her in online class, to sharing notes, to playing games and voice calling constantly, she became her only connection to the outside world. The pandemic and her father had separated her from her skater friends, who never were into texting or chatting online. Sometimes she would hear their skateboards clack-clacking in the distance.

Those one and a half seemingly endless years were stolen from her, as they were from everyone else. Lost, consumed, beaten and eaten by the sea. It would be an understatement to say it changed everything. But as the pandemic ended, it was time to pick up the pieces. Putting aside her resentment at the world, she could at last meet her dearest friend in person.

Nixie approached a familiar-seeming girl sitting on an ocean-view bench, sunlight streaming down above them, and peered at her face. “I forgot that you wear glasses.”

“It wasn’t that long ago I sent you a fit picture. Well, yep, I do.”

“So does my whole family. But they actually look good on you.”

She laughed, an all-too familiar sound that tugged on her heart. She ran up and embraced Sarika, burying her face into her thick coat that smelled like cumin and vanilla.

Nixie showed her around to her favorite places in town, while Sarika shared experiences from her big city. They had equal appreciation for nature. Sarika poured that into her multimedia art, scrapbooks, and photography while Nixie was determined to explore a science field. For now, they passed the months taking turns using Sarika’s Polaroid. Collections of snapshots grew large and diverse on each of their walls. Their bond grew inseparable.

She and Sarika hung out on the upstairs balcony, Nixie’s only escape from the stifling house for over a year. They laughed at her Rapunzel-like experience during quarantine, how she was kept inside by her Mother Gothel of a dad. He had relaxed at long last, but he wouldn’t be the same. Before the lockdown was released, Nixie accumulated dozens of hours of looking at the view.

Among all the small, old buildings, the shiny new Hollister stood out like a dove in twilight, even among the downtown structures which received by far the most attention in town. It was also where Nixie got a part time job. She would even say she worked seasonally, because after the tourist-bountiful summer passed they slashed shift hours until nearly nothing. Not that she complained, with her busy school schedule that included advanced biology.

It was still a place she frequented with Sarika. If not for the employee discount when checking out, she could have forgotten she worked there.

Walking out with their bags, Sarika commented, “This town is a little boring, don’t you think?”

She froze, heart dropping as she heard one of the phrases she’d feared hearing most from her.

“You- you think so?”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” They both sat down on the freshly painted white bench outside.

“Back in the city, there was so much business, so much rush. Not a moment of calm.” She laughed. “So it’s not boring, I’m just too jittery. It’s nice to have plenty of peace.”

Sarika especially liked to stargaze, since her previous city had so much light pollution that not even Sirius was visible. So, sometimes they would bike out of the town during dusk, to get away from the ceaseless fog that covered the sea and coastline each night. Nixie would bring her old telescope, a gift from her older brother once he moved out for college on the east coast.

They would find a nice clearing, without high grass to not risk getting ticks. Then Sarika would pull out her constellation book, since they hadn’t memorized them all, and stare up for hours.

In June 2022, the faintest stars faded from her sight.

One late summer day they both stood together on the eroded metal railing overlooking a cliff. As they looked at the waves, Sarika talked about how much she hated her old city, how much she never felt like she belonged, and she didn’t even realize it at the time.

Sarika reached in her pocket and took a puff of her pen. Their friendship was the most perfect type of one, Sarika never offered her a hit, and Nixie never inquired about her cannabis habit.

They stared out over the ocean. The horizon looked a bit fuzzy. She tried focusing as hard as she could, but the ocular haze didn’t go away. She clenched the handrail, fists slightly trembling. What was up with that? Sarika was telling something important but she tuned her out, which she never does, and a memory flashed through her mind from this exact spot, a few months ago.

“I like the definition of the universe that says everything is an ocean, and each one of us are waves on its surface that crest momentarily before crashing down. Makes you think.”

Nixie smiled. “Me too. I’ll be a really high-reaching wave.”“The thing about those is they crash down the hardest.”

“C’mon, Sarika, you're so damn literal.”

She laughed and pointed out towards the water. “I might be that wave.”

Nixie saw the distant wave, sparkling under the sun.

“I can be any of them, I guess.”

Back to the present, she realized she couldn’t see any of those waves. Her eyes muddied them together, the sea was a single fuzzy body. Where did the waves go?

Sarika read emotions easily, and delicately paused her story. “Nix, what’s wrong?” She put a brown, golden-ring clad hand over her pale fist that gripped the salt-eaten metal.

“My eyes. They’re- they’re fucked up. What happened to them? Why can’t I see things right?” She clenched her teeth, whole body shaking now.  “How will I become a scientist? Not see the world with my own eyes? It wouldn’t be right… That’s what I was born for…”

She meekly glanced up at Sarika, feeling guilty. Her deep brown eyes were full of empathy, framed by thin gold-framed glasses. But as she always did, she responded first with questions, not condolences.

“But doesn’t your family, y’know, all wear glasses? It’s not like this happened out of nowhere, really.”

She bit her lip. “They do, but I’ve never been like them. I never will be. I’m better than that.”

There was really only the pandemic to blame for this. Cooped up inside for years, nothing to do but rot on her old computer, staring at a glaring screen a foot away for hours. Either that or run into an inevitable argument with her high-strung family outside of her room.

In August 2022, eye focus wavered.

One day they decided on a sunrise-watching hangout, a new experience for Sarika, who placed a lot of value on being a night owl. She yawned and rubbed her eyes behind her glasses. They stood on Nixie’s balcony in the waning black, peering over the roofs.

The murky darkness was broken as clouds against the low eastern hills started glowing. Horizon-hugging stars were swallowed by blue. Light hit the cloud front spanning miles along the coast, illuminating it pink and orange, glorious as it began dissipating into air and steam.

Sarika’s mouth was open, transfixed by the sunrise. As equally astounded as she was, Nixie felt awkward for some reason, and tried to fill the awe-inspired silence.

“Did you know that the solar maximum is coming up? The sun has cycles… like, magnetic cycles. I haven’t really learned how magnets affect heat, but it does, it makes the sun noticeably hotter. Probably means we should wear more sunscreen.”

She glanced back, intrigued. “Well, I never learned that. I wish they had astronomy classes in highschool. But I guess that kind of science can’t cure diseases or help save Earth.”

“It also can’t cause destruction, diseases, and man-made horrors, like the others can.”

“Well, didn’t astrophysics contribute to the building of nuclear bombs?”

“Oh yeah. Probably. But astrophysics isn’t astronomy.”

“I think you’re right.”

The sun broke over the hill and the rays illuminated the highlands and peaks of the town.

Sarika’s eyes gleamed in the light, turning an astounding golden as the sun crested. She murmured, “I’m kind of glad I forgot my Polaroid. Photography can’t compare to this.”

In October 2022, the hills became at last blurred.

They sat on one of the rickety piers, balanced above the churning sea. Splinters dug into Nixie’s hands, but she dare not shift around. The threat of collapse made for a thrilling hangout spot. Dense fog cloaked the shoreline, only vague black shapes were visible, like rocks jutting out of the endless white sea. Sarika shivered horribly, but turned to look at her as she spoke.

“Y’know, it’s pretty amazing that you somehow changed, like, my environment. I can see everything with new eyes, showing you around. It’s sad, after spending 17 years here, this eroded little paradise has just gotten unexciting I guess. It’s why I want to go far for university, and I don’t wanna live here. That way any time I return, the magic of this place will be fresh.”

“That makes sense. We couldn’t stay for college if we wanted, there’s none in this town.”

In March 2023, the water tower became fuzzy.

Time raced by, which required them to do difficult future-securing undertakings. Nixie locked onto a private university, chose a few others, and filled out all the applications dutifully.

To her elation, her top choice contacted her and wanted an interview. She prepared extensively, and finally drove there, stomach tingling with anticipation the whole way. The weather shared her excitement, an energetic storm front pouring down over the coast as she drove. The clouds were thick and darkened the sky, and the max setting on her wipers wasn’t high enough to cut the wall of rain. Anxiety for the interview was replaced with fear about getting there safely, with the downpour and the unfamiliar roads that led far away. She kept her eyes peeled for her exit, while in her head she rehearsed her answers. “My goal is to become a biologist, I want-”

The voice of the GPS knifed through the pounding rain: “Recalculating.” Her stomach dropped. It was running the whole time, so why didn’t she hear it? Why didn’t she miss the exit? It was right there. She recalled glancing at the signs, but didn’t see the exit name. She thought it was up ahead. She looked. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see it.

Nixie was 25 minutes late. Sparse coastal roads and highways tend to lack turnaround points, and the downpour didn’t help. She gripped the wheel the entire ride, agony coursing through her whole being. She smoothed herself and completed the interview, located where the rain didn’t touch, mockingly enough. The interview went pretty well. The only thing left to do was wait.

Three months later, on a cold February day, she received the highly anticipated email. Trembling, she opened it and read, “February 8th. Nixie Cavenaugh, we regret to inform you that you have not been accepted to enroll in the 2024-2025 school year at…” She stopped reading. No more point. That was her main, no, her only choice. Her only hope. Any others she applied to were to put her parents at ease.

She’d promised to tell Sarika as soon as she heard back. She messaged her before hopping off her bed and tossing her phone on the hardwood, the thud knocking down a hung Polaroid.

On February 8th, 2024, a permanent veil settled over it all.

Numb, head reeling, she stood on the balcony. Looking over the houses, everything was mostly blurred, even just a half dozen streets over. She remembered how all of it should look, it should be lichen-covered roofs, treetops and distant hill ridges, but the shapes were too vague. She choked back tears under her hot, sweaty palms. How could she lose something so important? Sarika could console her by saying this loss was going to happen anyway, but she knew the true cause, and it wasn’t luck. And it wasn’t mere ‘bad luck’ that her application was rejected. The real reason was obvious. Everything she tried had been in vain. All those countless, pointless days of trying to stretch the maximum function of her eyes, trying to adjust their focus like a telescope. After the loss of her clear sight came the loss of her future.

Nixie looked at the telescope she had unconsciously grabbed and brought over. She lifted it to her eyes and peered over the town, adjusting the dials until she could see everything clear and magnified. The blinding reflection of the sun hitting the perfect angle of a window made her remember something her brother had mentioned when he gave it to her several years ago.

His blond hair was frizzy from trying to brush out the waves. He was leaving for the east coast the next day, and was frantically going through all of his things. “Hey, you like science, right?” He asked, and plopped the heavy telescope in her arms before she could respond. He continued packing things into boxes across his room. She looked down. “Uh wow. Thanks Kayden, I didn’t expect this.”

He stopped her before she walked out. “One important thing, my teacher told me something. Never, ever look at the sun with a telescope. Galileo did since they didn’t know back then, and he went blind!” He turned back with a grin on his face. “And please don’t break it alright?”

Nixie tried to walk out. “Got it.”

“Also, be sure to use it, or I’m gonna regret not giving it to Cassidy instead.” Nixie spotted a lego man on the floor and tossed it at him. “Chill out, dude. I’m gonna sleep, so good night.”

“Sleep tight, Nixie. Hope the bed bugs bite.”He left the next day at 6 am, before she was awake.

She had learned afterwards that the Galileo rumor wasn’t true, he lost his vision from old age. He had only observed the sun when it was along the horizon. She took the heavy cylinder into her hands, not of her own volition. The small orb of the sun was visible, slightly dulled by aerial haze. What did the sun look like? Could she see dark blotches of sunspots and coronal mass ejections? Her arms lifted the telescope to her left eye, adjusting it properly.

The scope swayed, like that of a sniper in shooter games she played over the pandemic, and she lost her place. There was a blur of greens, blues, and browns. She corrected the placement, swinging through the scenery towards her target. The ombre of the deep blue sky faded lighter and brighter, closer and closer to the final thing she would see. Her hands trembled in anticipation. Sweat loosened her grip on the smooth plastic. Her vision got excessively bright.

Almost…

She wondered if she would hear her eyeball hiss and bubble after daring to look in the face of humanity’s sole god.

And finally…

“NIXIE!”

Startled, she whipped her head around. The telescope slipped out of her hands and clattered onto the balcony. Sarika was standing there, panting and looking frazzled, a slight scent of weed wafting off of her. “Nixie… uh what were you…”

Nixie suddenly realized her own immensely guilty expression. “Sarika! Um. What’s wrong?”

She walked up to her, eyes full of pity behind the glints of her glasses.

“Did the university email- I mean- I’m just so sorry. Are you okay?” She reached for her hand.

“Wh- nothing happened.” Nixie replied while rubbing her left eye. She never got to see the sun, but she might have got some dust in it. Sarikas’s hand felt so cool compared to her own.

“Your… eyes?”

“They're not returning to how they were. I know that much. I just- if there would be some other-”

Before she could continue, Sarika let go of her hand, snatched the glasses off her nose, and set them onto Nixie’s shocked face. “Hey what-”

Nixie stepped backwards, about to fling them off, but stopped for a second and turned. The distant hills were golden, white fences running down and across them like rivers. The town roofs spanned for miles, all of the tiles visible, all slowly eaten away. The creepy water tower stood above them further back, the town’s gargoyle. Telephone poles webbed in the distance. She glanced to the left, there was the ocean, vast and sparkling in all of its grandeur.

“I can see the waves.”