There was sleep left in her left eye. She rubbed it vigorously, as though trying to find a spot to dent so that the sleep could whoosh out. No luck. How strange because the right eye was up and awake, ready for the world. She sighed. Maybe closing it for 5 more minutes would help. She wrapped her arms around his semicomatose waist and willed her eye to listen.
But it didn’t, not even after the battalion of alarms had exhausted itself. The pouch of sleep rolled resolutely inside her eyelids as she tried splashing it out with cold water. Coffee usually helped but this morning it merely rerouted around the stubborn eyeball. She tilted her head backwards so as to direct the caffeine stream to the target before realizing what she was doing. She continued to stare unblinkingly at the shuddering bus ceiling, mascara laden eyelashes drawing over buried lids.
The bus dropped her and her sleepy eyeball off at the usual Monday stop. She popped on her glasses and began. Her left eye clicked dryly in a coordinated eye-hand rhythm as she punched the keyboard keys. Click-click-click. She paused to listen more carefully. This was fucking strange.
He called her just before lunchtime. What was she doing? Working, she said. Should she tell him about the pertinent eye? Click-click-click. Maybe not.
It was only last year she had found out she was anisometropic. When she looked through each eye piece of the exorbitantly priced glasses, she felt slightly ill at ease. Her world looked different depending on which eye she chose to stare from. Near and far. Negative and positive.
The Boots receptionist promised they would work in harmonious togetherness. The hefty price was buying her an HD world. She would no longer have the horrible migraines either. Would she be interested in filling up the customer feedback form?
Two eyes. Two worlds. One could sleep on while the other stayed up. They probably clicked differently too. She tried blinking the right eye to check but it made no sound.
Two eyes. Two worlds. She always knew she was asymmetrically souled. She could charge both ways. Negative and positive. Bad and good. Push and pull. She had lived all her life trying to dwell in the light. God did not like children who chose the dark and she loved God. She lived as close to the light as she could manage but it wasn’t as far placed from the divide as she would have liked. It was close enough for her to lean into the edges sometimes. Enough to taste the bittersweet thrill, feel the adrenaline kick. There was something so delicious about immersing herself in this strange arrangement of halved souls. But she was smart enough to know when to stop. She never leaned too long, never leaned too far. She loved God but God had to be convinced of it.
She rocked herself in the prayer mat at lunchtime. Click-click-click. Had she played this push and pull game a bit much? Was her body now splitting up to take sides with each of her halves? It didn’t help to have this active an imagination. How would science explain the double minded eyesight? One of them wanted to propel her towards light and the other wanted to drag her into darkness. Where was her control? Was she perhaps not praying hard enough?
Her prayers got answered by late afternoon. The clicking finally stopped, making the lone keyboard sound too loud. She made her eyes big and rolled it around to make sure there were no more pouches left to click. Affirmative. She breathed out in relief. The organs had realigned. At least for now.