I bought it at a drugstore Saturday morning and wore it all day, noticing how it made the world swim as I bumped into things, stepping unsteadily from curbs and climbing steps clumsily, my feet looking sometimes too close to me and sometimes too far away. It was the same with my hands, which didn’t seem to belong to me in this strange half-world.
At eight o’clock, I changed clothes and headed out into the dimming light, the sidewalks swelling with life as I walked the awkward mile or so to the Flatiron District, getting more and more used to it but still not at ease on my feet.
I was deliberately five minutes late. That night I would let you arrive first, Hannah, wanting you to see me make my entrance.
So before I went inside, I peered in through the restaurant window. And there you were, sitting at the table, so pretty it made me giddy with joy to think of spending even one minute in your company. What would it be like to spend half a lifetime with someone like you? It felt as if I had chanced upon something new in the world—love, happiness—and this discovery both thrilled me and terrified me. Because what if I couldn’t find my way into your life? Now that I’d seen this prize shimmering in the distance, understanding at last that there truly is love in the world, what would happen if I lost my way and couldn’t reach you? I felt sick and afraid and euphoric.
As the waiter led me toward the table, you glanced up, clapping your hands to your mouth in shock when you saw me.
I was about to wave hello when I misjudged how close the tables were on my left-hand side, my thigh knocking into a corner, cutlery rattling angrily, a wineglass falling over and its contents quickly staining the tablecloth. The man at the table yelled an oath at me as his wife let out a yelp. When I turned to apologize and the man saw my face, his expression changed quickly from enraged to sympathetic.
Dammit, I said, I’m so sorry. Please, let me … I reached for a napkin to mop up the spill.
Hey, that’s OK, said the man. Accidents happen, right?
A small platoon of waiters were hurrying over to clear up the mess I’d made.
No, my fault, I said, will you let me buy you a bottle of wine or…? It didn’t spill on you at all, did it? I said to the woman.
No, it’s no problem, she said, dabbing at a line of red spots on her cream-colored skirt. Everything’s fine.
Are you sure?
Go ahead and sit down, said the man, waving me away. Enjoy yourself. Hey, and here’s a tip—the blue crab salad. Delicious!
Thank you, I said. And again, I’m so sorry.
Don’t mention it, said the woman. Have fun.
I turned, seeing that you still had your hands clamped over your mouth, and walked very carefully to our table. When I leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, you whispered, It suits you, Patrick.
I sat down and adjusted the eyepatch, which I was wearing over my left eye. Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me Patch? I said.
You laughed and tilted your head to one side as you looked me over. It really is a good look, you said. It makes you appear dashing, slightly mysterious. And blue was a great choice of color. With that suit? Perfect.
Are you sure? I said. It’s just that yours is black. I didn’t want to go too matchy-matchy.
Right, you said, I hate those couples who color-coordinate their medical accessories.
I just wanted to try and understand what it’s like for you, I said. Then I started to tell you all about my day wearing the eyepatch, the simple tasks I’d found so much harder, the problems with depth perception, the soreness of my neck after turning my head to my blind side so often, the small children in the checkout line who’d asked me whether I was a pirate and how I’d told them that I was indeed, the delight on their faces when I added that my name was Captain Patch and asked if they’d like to hear a pirate joke.
You know pirate jokes? you said.
Only one, I said. Why are pirates called pirates?
I have no idea, Captain Patch.
Because they arrrrr.
You laughed again, an unsuppressed laugh that made me think life with you would be endlessly wild and spontaneous.
You know what else happened? I said. People spoke to me. I mean complete strangers spoke to me. It was like I wasn’t living in New York anymore. And something else weird—they were all nice to me.
That’s happened to me as well, you said. Often people open up more when I’m interviewing them. Sometimes it’s awkward with the lack of movement in my prosthetic, as if people aren’t sure which eye to look at. That’s not a problem when I’m wearing the patch.
I reached into my jacket and took out an index card, notes I’d written earlier. Right, Hannah, I said, I have one last thing to say about eyepatches and pirates and then I promise never to bring any of this up again.
OK, what’s going on? you said, a note of playful suspicion entering your voice.
I did a little research, I said. Here we go, my top five fun facts about pirates. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
You leaned in, your eye so bright it was like a light swinging toward me. And then, clearing my throat, I started. Fun fact number one. Modern-day pirates are considered criminals but many pirates several centuries ago were state-sponsored fortune hunters. A letter of marque granted the holder permission to capture enemy merchant ships and therefore was effectively a license for piracy—these pirates were known as privateers. Some pirates-slash-privateers, such as Sir Francis Drake of England, were considered national heroes.
Wow! you said. You can’t beat national hero status.
No, you cannot, I said. Now, fun fact number two. The first captain to successfully lead an expedition to circumnavigate the globe was a pirate. By the way, if they told you at school that Magellan was the first person to circumnavigate the world, that wasn’t quite true, he died halfway around in the Philippines and his crew finished the journey without him. No, it was the state-sponsored pirate Sir Francis Drake who completed the entire voyage as a captain when he sailed around the world in the Golden Hind.
I’m liking the sound of this Drake guy.
According to rumor, so did Queen Elizabeth. But moving swiftly on, fun fact three. During a time when much of the world was controlled by uncaring monarchies, professional sailors were both underpaid and ill-treated. However, pirate life was based on fairness and democracy. This is true, ships were run according to their own pirate code, captains were often elected, loot was divided up according to strict rules and there was even a system of workers’ compensation for pirates who lost limbs. For example, four hundred pieces of eight for the loss of a joint, eight hundred for a limb.
How much for an eye?
Actually, one of the codes did specify that. One hundred pieces of eight.
Damn, I knew I should have held out for a limb.
Should I continue?
Please. But I’ll want my hundred pieces of eight by the end of the meal.
Fact number four, pirate-stroke-privateer William Dampier was a keen collector of plants and his bestselling book of observations made on his travels was considered a mine of information by Charles Darwin, who took Dampier’s work with him on The Beagle. William Dampier also introduced more than a thousand words to the English language including avocado, barbecue, caress, chopsticks, posse and snug.
You know, maybe I am a pirate. I invent new words all the time when I’m drinking.
And lastly, number five, drumroll … There is no historical record of a pirate ever owning a parrot.
What, that’s your last fun fact? Way to end on a high note, Captain Patch.
Sorry, you’re right, I could have planned that better. But anyway, all I’m trying to say, Hannah, is that pirates have had a bum rap.
And didn’t sport parrots as fashion accessories.
Yes, and no parrots.
So wait, basically you’re pitching me the idea that I should become a pirate? Is that what this is all about?
Of course not, I said. But I do think you should be anything you want and do anything you want, Hannah.
For a moment I felt awkward. Had that sounded cheesy? Like some kind of lame pickup line? But then your face lit up and it felt like the room was shrinking around us, a curtain being drawn, only the two of us sharing this world.
Thank you, Patch, you said. And you can take the eyepatch off now. It is a little strange, both of us wearing them, like it’s a fetish or something.
But that couple … I said, half turning. They’ll realize I was just …
It’s OK, they left a minute ago.
They were very kind, I said, taking off the eyepatch. Didn’t you think they were kind?
Patch? You’ve made your point. No need to stretch it.
Sorry, Hannah.
Don’t be sorry. That was all very sweet. But first something to drink. And then food, most important food.
I called over the waiter. I was in such a good mood the only thing that seemed appropriate was champagne. I opened the wine list and pointed at the Pol Roger. And I remember what we ate that time, you running your finger down the menu, looking up and asking me whether I wanted to share the rib eye for two before warning me that you liked your steak like your novels, bloody as hell. We ordered a bottle of Bordeaux.
As we shared the huge plate of beef, we spoke so much and ate so slowly that we had to order a second bottle of wine, our bellies full to bursting as we kept on talking and mopping up the red meat juices with the last of our fries.
Once we were done with our meal, we were too full for dessert. You asked me if I wanted to find somewhere quiet for another drink. Or a coffee, perhaps.
When we left the restaurant, I remember seeing the Empire State Building all lit up in blue, the sky indigo with a thin veil of cloud hanging over the tips of the tallest buildings. We didn’t even think about where we were headed, just walked off together into the night, still talking and talking, until we found ourselves in Union Square, the lights of the park burning blue, and you reached out and took my hand. How warm you felt. How wonderful it was to be alive in that moment, walking through the park hand in hand.
But how strange the light. Sky, trees, streetlamps. Everything blue. Everything.
I remember what came next almost as if someone had choreographed our movements, both of us slowing down, stopping and turning, our lips coming closer as I fell deeper and deeper into the blue.
Your eye was as blue as a lake when you leaned in to kiss me. I closed my eyes and our lips met. And in that moment, embraced by the light of your kiss, I knew I would love you until the day that I died.