A Single Eye Read Online Free PDF

‘the nice one’ growing up, the youngest, Grace, a doctor. My oldest brother, John, is a police lieutenant, the next one’s a lawyer—he’s Gary—and Mike, the youngest, the one closest to me in age, is gone. I was always the little kid puffing out my chest and scrambling to keep up. By the time I was in ninth grade, even Mike was in college. Grace was in medical school. The others were married, buying homes, having children, succeeding in their lives. It was like everything had been done, you know? Like books read and shut. I wanted to rebel, but Mike had done that one. I wanted to live somewhere exotic but Gary had spent two years in the Peace Corps in Ethiopia and written us so often we knew the townspeople by name. I wanted . . . In the end, I realized that, rather than knowing where I fit into the picture, I just wanted to know who I was. And then I just wanted to know for myself without some authority giving me its truth.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell them that, did you?”
    I shook my head, “Oh, yeah. I bored them all to death, even dragged one sister into the zendo for the longest forty minutes of her life. It says a lot about what a gracious, decent person she is that she didn’t stalk out.” Suddenly I laughed. “It also says her legs went numb.”
    â€œArrogance,” he said, seemingly as much to himself as to me, “the Zen disease. It shows how ignorant we are.”
    â€œAbout life?’
    â€œThat, too. I meant, about Zen.”
    â€œBut, I have to say for my family, strange as they think ‘Darcy’s Zen thing’ is, they don’t bug me about it. My brother met my plane, and Mom is keeping my dog for two weeks so I can come here.”
    I felt a pang of loneliness thinking of Duffy, who had been ecstatic to be in Mom’s backyard, which would soon be little more than a hole with just his black rope of tail showing above grass line. I was sorry there’d been no time to see Mom. I wished I could tell Leo about them all and the baseless fear that had brought me here. It had been a silly childhood fear, probably born of nothing more than a family day in Muir Woods, each of the older kids assuming the other was watching the little one, all of them forgetting me for an hour or so. If I hadn’t screamed “till her face matched her hair,” the incident wouldn’t have become family legend and the cause of death of a succession of Christmas and birthday bonsais. I wished I could laugh with Leo about whichever well-meaning sister came up with the bonsai idea, not to bring a touch of life to my apartment but because she figured that my seeing the little tree die would show me I was in control. But I couldn’t tell him, anymore than I could chance letting a hint about my fear out to anyone. I drew back into the corner of the cab.
    The truck flopped into holes and rattled its way out. I shifted my luggage and braced my knees against the outer pocket that held sweaters. A soft low sound came from Leo’s side of the cab, like he was starting to hum. It was a moment before I realized he was gearing up to ask the question.
    â€œSo you’re an organizer?” he said. “A professional organizer? That’s what you do for a living? You have your own business?”
    I stiffened. But I hadn’t told him about my fear. So, then there was no need to hide my job. In a burst of relief, I said, “I’m not really a professional organizer, organizing is just a small part of my work. I’ve got the world’s best job: I’m a stunt double, in movies. I love it. I’ve loved it since I was a kid climbing out my window. I was nine when I figured out how to get to the tree and down. When my brother John spotted me, he cut off the limb by my window. I was so mad . . .”
    Leo was grinning.
    â€œBut here’s the thing”—my words tumbled out powered by the joy of talking gags and of not