Seeing Colour

By Amber Faucher

Dispensing Optician Evie Matthews has her life entirely planned out—that is until a surprise breakup ruins everything. Fleeing her conventional lifestyle, she escapes to Edinburgh, Scotland, accepting a position at a private optometrist's office. Proving that a complete 180° is more complicated than it looks, Evie loses her luggage, her flat, and her nerves, ending her first day abroad drowning derailed plans at the bottom of a mojito and in the arms of an unexpected encounter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amber Faucher
• Release date: Jul 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463135372

Amber Faucher

Amber Faucher was born and raised on a farm in Alberta. Both an optician and an artist she draws you in to see the world from her unique perspective. She lives in Manitoba with her husband and three children, amongst some of Canada's most pristine wilderness.

Book preview

1

Evie, don’tcha think this is a little drastic?

The familiar male voice echoed from her laptop speakers, travelling to her in Edmonton from the sunny shores of Australia. Evie laughed at her counterpart as she darted back into the computer’s camera to point at her friend on the screen.  

Drastic times call for drastic measures, Andy.

She pulled over another cardboard box filled with her belongings and closed the flaps, securing it with packing tape.  With a purple marker, she wrote bedroom on its side. She glanced back at the screen when her internet cohort scoffed.

Are you seriously colour coding your boxes?

Evie’s shrug earned her an exaggerated eye roll as Andy flicked beach-blond waves back from the sunkissed warmth of his temples and added, You’re so OCD.

That’s why I’m leaving. I’m breaking free of this routine-enforced box I’ve made for myself here.

Andy sounded less humouring as he teetered on the border of exasperation. By quitting your job and leaving everything you’ve ever known to move halfway around the world?

"It’s not that drastic . . ."

Her words trailed off as the pile of geeky knick-knacks she was sorting absorbed her attention. Some would come with her. Others would go to her parents and the rest she would give away to goodwill.

E-van-gel-ine, the Aussie used her full name in a parental tone that grated through the speaker of her laptop.

Evie had listened to lots of patronizing since announcing her decision, but it hurt worse somehow to hear it from her best friend, even if they had never met in person. In her defence, she reiterated her go-to explanation for Andy.

I’ve just had enough with this place. I’ve wanted to travel for a long time, and when this opportunity came along, I couldn’t pass it up. I have nothing to tie me down...anymore. So, why not?

Hands on her hips, Evie waited for a response. The Aussie raked another impatient hand through his waves. He shrugged, even though she could see he was tense. They’d known each other long enough that she could tell even when the video chat was choppy.

Don’t try to pass it off like it’s no big deal, Evie. I leave for a surfin’ derby for a couple of weeks, and you’ve done decided to jump ship and skip country on me. His thin lips curled slightly at one corner as his cheeks pinked, and he admitted, I’m frankly sore that you aren’t flying south. You know I’m good for a place to bunk, and I wouldn’t let you go long without work.

Evie pursed her lips to keep from bursting into a sarcastic smirk that would wound her friend’s pride.

That’s sweet, Andy. And yes, I know that you would be more than willing to help me out if I wanted to strap myself to a board and conquer a few waves. But, I love being an optician, and Scotland just so happens to be where I will be doing it for a while.

You make eyeglasses, he groused, you could do that anywhere. People gotta see, right? Come here and do it.

Evie had many people telling her just what they thought of this sudden plan, and no opinion meant more to her than that of her best friend.

I could, she replied, but then I’d burn this pasty white hide of mine. At least in Edinburgh, I’m told it rains.

A lot, he added. With his fingers drilling the desk he sat behind, he sighed. Okay, fine. Tell me again, what makes you think this is a good idea?

Evie found it hilarious that she was expected to convince him of her decision when he was a surf-gypsy who worked from place to place to fund his craving to ride a longboard. As she worked the packing tape across the last box in the empty apartment, she began to methodically move through the process she used to think this big decision through. It was the same process that Evie reminded him he should employ in the future when he leaves a job because the boss can’t expend him for the call of the waves.

Once she finished her lecture, she reassured him, Don’t worry. I already have guaranteed employment with a private optometrist’s office in Edinburgh, I have accommodations within walking distance of everything I’ll need, and if the place proves inadequate, I can always find something else.

Yeah, but have you even met this guy that’s hired your excellent services? the surfer retorted, cocking a comical brow as he threw up his hands and asked her, What if he’s totally sketch-a-rific, and you get over there to see that this is all just a big bogus bummer?

Evie fixed a glare on the pixelated figure on her laptop screen. She hoped that the look transcended over the net to her counterpart.

Firstly, no one says bummer anymore, and you get an extra high-five for so impressively sliding it back into casual conversation. She clenched her eyes shut and mimed a high five, along with sound effects, which Andy echoed on the other side of the world. Then, lifting another finger, she began pointedly listing, "Secondly, I’m not an idiot. I’ve had three telephone interviews for this position, and Mr. Sinclair seems very professional. He’s confident in choosing me as the successful candidate for this position. Thirdly, I applied for a job, not a boyfriend. If he’s not exactly tall, dark, and handsome, I’m pretty sure that I can handle it. He’s my employer and nothing else."

What’s his first name? Andy demanded, I bet it’s something super shady like...Terry, or Larry, or Manny.

Those are just names that end in ‘y,’ Evie scoffed, "which, by the way, includes you, And-y."

See! Super shady, dude.

He’s not shady! Though the name was something I’d never heard of. He said it really fast too...Con-ack, I think.

Andy went to protest further, and Evie just cut him off.

"Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not expecting this to go off without a hitch. I’m sure there will be a few hiccups in the process, so let’s not make irrational assumptions about the guy that hired me. This is something that I want to do—that I have wanted to do for a long time—and I’m doing this for me."

Despite the prior laughs shared, that last little bit didn’t make it out without a hitch. Evie could feel the prick of her sinus’ betraying her, the wetness growing in her eyes, as the declaration brought back the main reason that pushed her to make this change. Hearing her friend’s empathetic sigh, she turned away from the screen, conveniently finding the need to gather her red hair up into a high ponytail so he wouldn’t see her cry.

Evie knew it was useless to think Andy didn’t know exactly where this desire to flee had come from, but she could keep him from seeing it plainly on her face. She had been hurt one too many times, and this place was getting her nowhere. Men found her boring, too conventional, and desired someone more exciting. At least that was what Brandon had said when he broke up with her via text message. She could be exciting—if she wanted.

Andy regretted being away when she had gotten the devastatingly rude heave-ho from the man she thought was the one. But, then again, if Andy had been around, she might not have had the push she needed to change.

Traditionally, she would have waited and gathered all the wise counsel she could from those she trusted, but that was conventional. She needed to break out of that mould. She needed to be daring and exciting. So, when Evie came across the international ad for the little optical dispensary in Edinburgh, she pounced.

That first step had been exhilarating. Evie felt different just clicking that submit button and allowing an employer thousands of miles away to peruse her application. Everything else that followed had been a whirlwind of elating decisions. When the Scotsman offered her the position, it only took her fifteen minutes to accept.

The last couple of days, she had battled off the depressing forbearance of her loved one’s worries, wanting to hold onto how her heart had pattered inside her chest at the thrill of this sudden change. This was proof she could do it. She could be exciting and different. She could be something more than normal and boring.

I’m sorry, Evie. Andy’s voice called her back to the screen. He smiled sweetly at her and winked a mischievous eye, uncouthly reminding her, "I’m just jealous, as usual. I ain’t got one ounce of responsibility in these bones here, so jet-setting is, therefore, a wee bit out of my reach.

I’ll tell ya what. Let’s compromise. Let’s just put a pin in it. Boop! And we’ll take that pin out when I convince you to move to sunny Australia with me.

That made her smile, so she allowed him the victory of seeing it, before she spoiled his proposal. That’s not compromising, and, no, we aren’t putting a pin in it. It’s happening. I’m going to Scotland. It’ll just have to work out.

Why?

Evie shrugged. Because I said so. That’s why.

Andy rewarded her honesty with a quiet affirmation. I’m proud of ya’. You know that. And I’ll still harass you, no matter where you call home.

Evie nodded and hid a sniffle behind the hand she raised to push up the black rim of the plastic frame that had snuck low on the bridge of her turned-up nose.

Thank you. She replied when she knew she could say it without a crack in her voice.

Andy ruined the perfect mend to the broken conversation by wise-cracking, "Just make sure that if you’re selling all that geeky junk of yours to afford your plane ticket, you send me all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1 and your autographed Jurassic Park hardcover."

Evie threw her head back and laughed, accidentally snorting in the process. That only made her counterpart laugh harder. When she could catch her breath, she pointed at the surfer on the screen, I’ve already made room in my luggage for those, so no.

Their lively banter kept her upbeat as she took the laptop and toured Andy around the empty apartment, showcasing what was luggage and what was storage. In one week, she sold all her furniture and donated any unnecessary clothing. She was only taking a small portion of her wardrobe, a few momentous, her computer, and her most treasured DVDs and books.

When Evie signed off for the evening, it was with the promise to video-chat with Andy once she was in Edinburgh.

When the laptop shut down, the apartment took on an eerie quiet that crept up on Evie. Her toes finally registered that the cheap laminate floorboards were chilled, and her body gave a shiver in automatic response to the goosebumps that lit up her arms. With nothing in it, the tiny apartment seemed so different. Evie could feel the tell-tale tickle of doubt slipping under her skin, wanting to make its way into her mind, building and demanding attention.

Stamping her foot and folding her arms, she told herself, Nuh-uh, and squelched the unwanted feeling by plastering a huge smile on her face. This was going to be fun. If she let fear rule her life, it would keep her trapped in this same repeating pattern. If she wanted to change, she had to accept that it wouldn’t come easy and go with the flow.

Andy switched jobs on a dime, when the waves were just right, without forethought or regret, and she could learn to do the same. At least she had thought things through and had a few things in place.

This was a turning point for her, a complete one-eighty turn of her helm to guide her vessel into another ocean of different people, places, and experiences. So, she flipped to the music app on her smartphone and allowed the upbeat rhythm of electro-swing to fill the empty space around her. Evie spent the rest of the evening in her Hello Kitty sweats and a pink tank top, eating Mexican take-out as she swept and mopped floors. When her mother arrived, she hauled the boxes to her parent’s SUV, locking the doors on this boring old life one last time.

2

It would have been a grievous understatement to say that the Edmonton International Airport was busy. Anxious and excited passengers were crammed together with luggage in tow. Some knew where they were going, fighting around the stalled figures of those completely lost.

Nervously, Evie searched the large overhead screens of flights, scanning through the numbers and names for the plane that would take her away from this place. Her flight was on schedule and ready to depart in three hours. She had more than enough time to get through security and settle before jet-setting to another continent.

As Evie approached check-in, she released an involuntary sigh of relief and felt her stomach flip. Three people rushed in front of her, one of the luggage carts banging roughly against hers. Evie grimaced, fighting her rising anxieties as the travellers continued without sparing her even an apologetic glance. Evie hated being rushed, and waiting in line was annoying. She had come early to avoid these problems. Her stomach churned as she bit the inside of her lip and entered the lineup.

On cue, her mobile chimed.

Evie’s fear spiked, worrying she had forgotten something in her mother’s vehicle. She fished her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, only to find a message from Andy.

A.W. – You’re probably already at the airport, knowing you and your need to be ridiculously early for everything. Just take a deep breath. You got this.

Evie did just that, feeling his calm restore her fraying nerves as she typed back a quick response.

E.M. – Thx! You’re the best. I will message you when I’m in Edinburgh:)

Halfway through the slow moving line-up, Evie had to pee. She would have to hold it. She couldn’t get out of the line even if she wanted to. She was uncomfortably squished in on all sides by people and luggage. Evie followed a sweet senior couple that shuffled along arm in arm behind a businessman with a cell glued to his ear, shouting at whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end.

When she finally made it to the counter, she had to pay an extra fee for a barely over weight bag—the scalpers! It was daunting to watch the woman, in her perfectly crisp uniform, struggle to get the two large suitcases onto the conveyor belt. As they slid out of view into the belly of the airport’s luggage sorting station, a lump rose unbidden at the back of her throat.

There went her life. She was really doing this. She was moving to another country with just two bags and her purse.

Two kids jarred her as they ran past, their apologetic parents rushing to catch up to the escaped rugrats as Evie moved on with them to security.

This lineup reminded the ex-farmgirl of a load of steers crammed into the chute, headed for auction. They were all lowing and jostling for position as they forced ever forward, unable to turn back around. As she neared the austere looking uniformed security guards, Evie felt her fingers twitching with jitters.

A sharp voice barked a command, making her jump. Propelled into motion, Evie threw her large purse into the plastic screening tub and began to unload what she had on her. Pocket change clattered against the bin’s bottom, along with her smartphone and laptop. Her black flats were next, her bare feet meeting with the alarming coolness of the tiled floor. Perhaps socks should have been in order. Too late now. Evie shed her hooded sweater and snagged her nail in her haste.

When Evie grimaced, the stern female guard rolled her eyes. That open judgment made Evie’s stomach twist into a knot. She was tense as she headed toward the doorway-like detector. Sweating now, she sucked in a shallow breath as she passed through. The loud mechanical buzzer made her face flush.

What had she forgotten? What had she done wrong?

The guard motioned for Evie to step to the side, where someone else waved her down with a handheld detection wand. It went around the perimeter of her form and then up and down between her legs, making her feel like an inmate being frisked at a prison. As it passed up her torso, it began to beep. Evie mentally cursed when the man asked her if she could remove the belt obscured by the hem of her Stargate SG-1 tee.

Evie obliged, quickly undoing the seatbelt-modelled buckle, struggling to slip the belt off. When she offered it to the guard, he grunted and directed her to raise her arms. She obeyed so quickly that her ankles gave an audible click as she straightened. Once permitted to leave, she scrambled to gather her things together and exit the humiliating lineup.

Relief washed over her to be free of that cramped space with all the travellers and officers. She took a cleansing breath to slow her galloping heart rate. She was one step closer to getting on her flight. She was that much closer to proving she wasn’t boring.

Evie walked the long corridors of the airport, finding her gate so she felt at ease to roam. She had packed light to avoid a hassle at security—so much for that failed preparation—so, after using the washroom, she went to pick up the few things she would need on a long flight. She grabbed her favourite lip gloss, a pack of mints, and a bottle of water before indulging in a latte from Starbucks.

Back at her gate, she settled into an out-of-the-way chair and pulled out her current sci-fi novel. Thumbs delving gingerly into the pages of the thick paperback, she found her Dr. Daniel Jackson Stargate SG-1 bookmark.

Evie smiled down at the familiar face of her favourite sci-fi space explorer, the crispness of his blue eyes intense behind his geeky round wire specs, his lips clenched into that signature purse she loved. She ran her thumb over the scientist, recalling how many adventures they had shared, as her eyes ate up the words on the pages, and he kept her place.

Here we go, Dr. Jackson, she thought to herself with a whimsical scoff. Another adventure—just the two of us. Evie gave the face a quick peck before she ignored her trepidation and lost herself in the rousing story.

The boarding call came all to quickly, spiking her anxieties as well as her excitement as she grabbed her things and boarded her flight to Scotland. Once seated, she spent the night flight with her nose stuck in her book, descending into Glasgow the following day with a few pages to spare.

Weary from lack of sleep, Evie’s nerves thrummed as she made her way to the luggage carousel. Though she was the first to arrive, she was somehow the last to leave, and she did so emptyhanded.

It put a damper on her excitement to realize her bags had never made it. Like a drone, she filed a report, nodding at the airport attendee’s continual reassurance that they would recover her things.

Evie felt lost without her bags as she climbed aboard a train bound for the other side of the small country. The lulling motion of the train had her eyes and head drooping. Falling asleep on a train was an excellent way to lose what little she still had left, so Evie distracted herself by reading the last chapter of her space adventure. At least Dr. Jackson was still accounted for, and it warmed her spirits to see his face staring back at her with his bright blue eyes so close to the colour of her own.

Usually, reading was a simple way to escape the unwelcome company of stress and anxiety, but now it had become a dogged process. Her mind was ill at ease, and Evie found it hard to lose her worries for the rapture of the story. There were too many unknowns. She worried about how long her luggage would be MIA and how she would deal without it. She would have to grab a set of work clothes the first chance she got, which was a cost she hadn’t budgeted for.

The irrefutable necessity of it left a nagging feeling at the back of her mind as Evie pondered how on earth she was going to make up for the deficit. Her mind betrayed her sanity, suggesting that her bags might not show up at all, which produced a thousand more worries that formed a black hole of anxiety in her middle.

More worrisome than her clothes, shoes, and the money she would lose replacing them was her signed Stargate SG-1 DVD’s and Jurassic Park hardcover. Perhaps it was insensible to be more concerned about these possessions—as irreplaceable as they may be—but it was all she could think about. She certainly couldn’t go to the nearest shopping centre to have actor Sam Neill sign a new copy.

Evie chastised herself for falling into this predictable round-about repetition of worrying and fretting and fretting and worrying. Things certainly wouldn’t work out if she lost her head. She took a deep breath and then tucked the bookmark back in, slipping the book into her purse. She rested her elbow on the edge of the windowpane, watching as this new world whizzed by at top speed.  

This was it. This was Scotland. Her new home and her new adventure. Sure, it was off to a rocky start, but it couldn’t get any worse.

Her eyes watched the scrubby green landscape, recalling that the tourist websites all said June was the best time to visit. She was surprised that it looked very similar to the farmland she grew up on southeast of Edmonton.

Edinburgh, however, was nothing like Edmonton.

As she exited the train, Evie was overwhelmed by the immensity of the station. Tracks, trains, and people filled the space with constant motion. Pushed and pulled by the movement of others, she made her way out of the loading area into the ticket hall, where she was steered up and out onto the Waverly Bridge.

The skyline was awash with old buildings, proudly displaying their Victorian and Edwardian architecture, hazy with the misty rain that fell. Evie purchased an umbrella at a nearby shop—a budgeted expense—to continue without becoming soaked.

The dispensary that hired her was located in The Shore area, among the trendy restaurants and shops that attracted tourists and trend-setting locals. It was a hot area of the ancient city, and space was a commodity. Because of this, Evie set up a flatshare over email with a local so she would be within walking distance of the dispensary. Having lived on her own most of her independent life, Evie wasn’t accustomed to shared living accommodations, but that wasn’t an option here. Evie chose not to dwell on that challenge too much. Despite a distinct lack of grammatical grace, the young lady seemed nice enough.

Under her newly acquired Hello Kitty umbrella, Evie waited at the crowded bus stop with a warm latte—of the double-shot variety for red-eye travellers. It did not take long before a double-decker bus pulled up. It was so iconically candy apple red that the corners of her mouth twitched to a smile. She passed up the tight staircase to the second floor, grateful for the view. With the help of her smartphone, she secured her route to the apartment building as the bus eased into traffic with its bustling passengers.

Evie had barely finished her latte when the little red marker on her map app pinged to signal her arrival. She had forty-three minutes to spare, just as she liked it. Evie filled her buffer-time with a leisurely walk around the complex, investigating the nearby roads and shops and enjoying a small bridge over the canal that the building overlooked. Arriving an acceptable ten minutes early, she stood before the lady’s door. Her stomach tingled with excitement and anticipation as she pressed the buzzer.

A series of thwumps, bangs, and even an abnormally loud shuffling was audible through the door before it was finally wrenched open.

Yeah, wha’-is-it? a young blond called out, her English quick and heavily accented.

The young woman’s mop of blond hair looked like an 80s blow-out, teased so that the volume made a large cascading wave of tresses that wafted down over half of her round little face and the front of her neon green sports bra. A strikingly yellow mesh crop-top overlaid black leggings. The girl was sweating heavily, and Evie absently wondered if she had fallen out of a yoga pose to answer the door.

Gaze landing upon her, the girl’s big chestnut eyes blinked a few times and refocused. Oy, I’m sorry. Were ya’ deliverin’ somethin’?

An icy stab rent through Evie’s middle. Caught off guard by the other girl’s confusion, she couldn’t find the right words to introduce herself or her purpose for being there. Her mind whirred uselessly, swirling in a state of panic.

Does she not remember renting out her flat? Or the emails back and forth? Did I mess up the date and time—as if! I’d never get that date wrong! Maybe she lost track of time doing her yoga-thing and is just a little confused.

Like a quizzical bird, the other girl’s head cocked to one side, staring blankly into Evie’s face, looking lost, confused, and spaced out. The blonde’s eyelids fluttered slightly, looking heavy and stoned. In her thick lilt, she impatiently suggested, I’ma waitin’ for an Ozzy of Kevin Bacon. Is that you, then?

An Ozzy of who? Evie repeated, stunned, as her brain produced a strikingly potent picture of a very grumpy-looking Ozzy Osborne cradling on his lap a terribly clingy Kevin Bacon—wearing those tight blue jeans and cowboy boots from the movie Tremors.

A powerful whiff of the flat beyond made Evie’s stomach tuck and roll. Though she had never heard of marijuana in those terms, the aroma was unmistakable. As she catalogued the new lingo for future reference, Evie hoped she had mistakenly rung the wrong flat.

The girl groaned in annoyance, impatiently stamping a barefoot, as Evie eventually found the wits and nerve to explain, I am looking for a Fiona Taylor at... her eyes darted to the number on the door, belatedly verifying that she was in fact at the flat cited in her email correspondence, 308?

The girl grinned and nodded enthusiastically, strikingly contrasting her previous impaired demeanour, as she hitched a thumb at her chest.

That’s me! she crowed energetically, thrusting a hand towards Evie, expecting her package.

Ugh, no. Evie reinforced, protectively tightening her purse against her side, as her stomach sank and froze into an icy pool between her knees. I was supposed to meet with you, Fiona, about sharing the flat.

It was out of her mouth, just as Evie concluded she probably no longer wanted to.

Sharin’ the flat? the blond queried, wrinkling her upper lip and screwing up her nose. The girl was so far gone that all her reactions were comically exaggerated. She waved a dismissive hand at Evie and laughed, No-no! Me boyfriend and I made up. I dinna need a flatmate no more.

Oh, umm....alright, Evie said dumbly, as her shock was slowly overtaken by angry frustration, with a side of relief.

So... Fiona asked, looking crushed, ya dinna have the Ozzy then?

No, Evie snapped harshly. She balled her fingers into fists, restraining the strong urge to scream at the girl as she tried to politely reply through her clenched teeth, No, I do not.

Evie spun on the heel of her flat and returned to the stairs. Her feet shuffled down them as reality slowly sank in, leaving her deflated and heavy. She had been in Scotland for less than eight hours, and already she had no clothes, toiletries, Stargate SG-1 DVD’s, and now no home. Her well-laid plans quickly cascaded out from under her like a toppling tower of Jenga blocks. As she made her way out of the building lobby, the sky had grown dark and gloomy, releasing sheets of rain that replaced the quaint piddle paddle from earlier.

Evie stood in the foyer, avoiding the downpour, her butt leaning back onto a warm radiator. She pulled out her phone. She would need to find a place to stay for the night promptly, and she wasn’t sure what her options were. As she searched the area, she quickly eliminated hostels and expensive hotels. Just across the canal, a small hotel listed rooms still available for a more reasonable rate. It had hardly any amenities, but it was her best short-term option.

Evie stood up, wincing as the intolerably hot backside of her jeans pulled tightly against sensitive skin. Tossing aside thoughts that boarded along the lines of failure, doomed-venture, and why the hell did I ever think I could leave home and do this on my own, she found the determination not to let this be the end of her Scotland adventure.

Just a bump in the road, she told herself as she entered the deluge.

Evie struggled with the umbrella latch, unaccustomed to carrying such a thing back in Edmonton, where rain showers were often fierce but short. When it finally sprang open, one of the spokes caught the arm of her glasses. The frames were flung off her face, clattering to the rain-soaked cement lense-side down. The arms stuck straight up, proudly rubbing her bad luck in her face like an ill-willed omen.

Of course, she grated, slapping her palms frustratedly against her thighs as she nodded in agreement with this latest ‘bump in the road.’

With a long sigh, she bent down to pick them up. She lifted the black frames upwards, looking through them to see the pit marks and scuffs permanently embedded in the material.

Just great. Yup, of course, they’re scratched. And these were my favourite pair.

Evie wiped the lenses off with the hem of her cotton tee—the cardinal sin of all opticians—before slipping them on her face. They were fogged and scratched, and