From The Mind Of Jemma Winchester

The Optician Visit

Hey guys! This is the third chapter I've wrote in the past two days. I've been on a writing high since Saturday night and it's not going away anytime soon. So this one is a little short but I hope you enjoy it!

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4:12 p.m.

The Bunker

        I bump into the corner of the table. The third time I have done that today. Everything is blurry. I feel my way along the table to where Dean is sitting. "Dad?"

        "What's up, pumpkin?" He asks.

        "I-I think I need to see an eye doctor."

        "Why, what's wrong?" A look of concern spreads across his face.

        "Everything is a bit blurry and I keep bumping into things."

        "Okay, I'll see if I can get you an appointment for tomorrow."

        "Okay, thank you."

        "No problem. Hey, do you need help getting back to your room?"

        "Yes. Help me."

        "Okay." Dean laughs and gently holds my arm and guides me to my room.

        "Yep, you need glasses," the optician says as she lifts the machine from in front of my face. "Mr. Hollenfield?" She says as we enter the waiting room. Dean hesitates before realizing that it's him and shakes the doctor's hand.

        "How is she?" Dean asks, casting a worried look my way.

        "She needs glasses, badly. Lucky for her, we just got a huge shipment with tons of new frames." The doctor points to a wall filled with different colored glasses in various shapes. "Choose whichever one you like and bring them up here and we'll adjust them."

        "Okay," I say as I wander up and down the display. I pick up a pair of dark green, oval-shaped glasses and put them on. No. That is a definite no. I place them back on the shelf and try on a red pair with navy blue stripes. No. Too flashy. Then, I put on a pair of plain, black, rectangular frames that nearly take up half my face. Perfect. The optician looks up from the work as I set the frames on her desk.

        "You want these ones?" She asks and picks them up to examine them. I nod and sit in the chair across from her. "Okay, now I'm going to heat the ends up and bend them to make them smaller, and you have to tell me if they're too big or too small." She turns toward the machine and sticks one end of the frames into it. She turns back around and places them on my face. "How do they feel?"

        "Perfect-wait, they're a little tight." She takes them back and makes them slightly bigger.

        "How about now?"

        "Okay, now they're perfect."

        "You sure?"

        "Yes.

        "Okay, let me just put your lenses in here and you'll be all set for a year and a half." She pops the fake lenses out and puts mine in. "Here you go. It will take a few hours for you to adjust to them, so be patient." She hands Dean a clipboard with paperwork to fill out. "She'll need to get a new pair in a year and a half, or whenever they become too small."

        "Sounds good," Dean says as he finishes filling out the papers.

        "Have a nice day," the optician says as we walk out the door.

        "You look adorable," Dean says as we get in the Impala and drive off.

        "Stop it. No I don't."

        "Yes you do. C'mere, let me fix them, they're falling off," he says as he reaches out to push my glasses further up the bridge of my nose.

        "Stop! I got it," I say and push them up myself. Dean laughs.

        "You really do look cute. I remember the first time I saw you wear glasses."

        "Oh, not this story again."

        "The glasses that were dipped in holy fire we used on that one hunt a few years ago, when Sam completed the First Trial. You were 10, and you insisted that you tried them on because you wanted to see what you would look like. When you put them on, your eyes lit up and they slid down your face, so I pushed them back up. You wanted to keep them, but I said they would hurt your eyes. Now here we are, nearly three years later, and you have a pair of your own. Do you remember that?"

        "Yeah, I remember."

        

        "Hey, how'd it go?" Sam asks as we walk back into the bunker.

        "Guess who has to wear glasses 24/7 now?" Dean says as he sits in the chair next to Sam.

        "Oh, no!" Sam says with fake sadness.

        "I don't mind; I actually kind of like them," I say.

        "They make you look grown up," Cas mentions.

        "Thank you, Cas."

        Sam claps his hands together. "Okay, who's ready for lunch?"

        Dean leans back in his chair. "Mm, I'm starving."