Eclipse Read Free Page A

to.’
    â€˜You’re bullying me,’ she said.
    â€˜Nonsense,’ David said.
    The parakeet flew away.
    â€˜The bird left,’ Mildred said.
    â€˜You had to screw up your eyes to see that,’ David said gently.
    She sighed. ‘I guess I did.’
    â€˜And is the glare bothering you?’ He smiled. ‘I only ask because you’ve been wearing sunglasses more than you used to.’
    She didn’t answer.
    â€˜Mildred, why are you reacting this way?’ he persevered.
    She took another moment. ‘Because I’m scared.’
    â€˜Of what?’ David was surprised and concerned.
    â€˜If you really insist on knowing,’ she said stiffly, ‘I’m squeamish about my eyes. I’m afraid of going to the eye doctor.’
    â€˜But you’ve been before.’
    â€˜No, I haven’t,’ Mildred said quietly. ‘I just told you that I went.’
    â€˜You said your vision was perfect.’ Now he was astonished.
    â€˜I don’t believe I used that word.’
    â€˜You led me to believe it.’
    Mildred’s cheeks were warm. ‘I’m not proud of this.’
    â€˜So when did you last have an eye test?’
    â€˜When I was a teenager. In New York City.’ She paused. ‘I hated it so much that I ran out and vomited.’
    â€˜How horrible for you,’ he said. ‘Do you know what upset you so much?’
    â€˜The whole thing.’ Mildred had grown pale. ‘The doctor sat very close, and . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t even like talking about it. I know it’s idiotic, but I can’t help it.’
    â€˜It’s not idiotic,’ he said.
    â€˜Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘It’s foolish and irrational and cowardly.’
    â€˜You’re no coward,’ David said. ‘You’re a remarkable, brave woman with a tiny weakness, which we can deal with together.’
    â€˜I can deal with it,’ Mildred said, ‘by staying away from eye doctors.’
    â€˜No,’ David said. ‘That has to stop.’
    She leaned back in her chair, and then, after a few moments, sighed.
    â€˜So what do you think is wrong with my eyes, Doctor?’
    â€˜I think it’s possible that you might have the start of cataracts.’
    â€˜Will I go blind?’ she asked bluntly.
    â€˜Only if you ignore them for long enough.’ He paused. ‘Will you let me help you with this?’
    â€˜I don’t want to go blind,’ she said.
    â€˜Is that a yes?’ David asked.
    â€˜I guess it is,’ Mildred said.
    In the room of dead things, the one who made them, who took them, living or inanimate, and turned them into little corpses, was working again.
    Another doll, this one wearing turquoise cotton slacks and a white T-shirt.
    The T-shirt was stained with dark red splatters.
    Like blood.
    The doll had short blonde hair.
    And one blue eye.
    The other eye having already been removed.
    Cut out, neatly and precisely, to leave a small black hole.
    The work was exacting, the air in the room hot and fetid, and the doll maker, the
corpse
maker, was perspiring as the short, sharp blade of the tiny scalpel blade began its next circular incision; the blade attached to a pencil grip handle, worked with the tips of the thumb, index and middle fingers, the handle resting between the index finger and thumb.
    Over to one side, waiting on another table until the work was complete lay a pair of doll-sized sunglasses and a roll of gauze.
    The corpse maker found this part of the job the most fulfilling.
    It felt like an ending, almost like closure.
    But it never was.
    Grace’s hotel, the Dolder Waldhaus, stood on a hill high above Zurich, surrounded by forest and prime real estate, most of it old and solid. Her room had a balcony with a fine overview of the city, its lake and the Alps way over on the horizon.
    On arrival, she’d showered, eaten a light, excellent lunch and