Free The Misconception by Darlene Gardner Page A

ordered, stepping forward. “Now lean down so I can search your face.”
    Marietta bent over until her face was inches from Vicky’s, who looked like a larger-than-life image on a roadside billboard. “I’ll help you find it. Look up. Now look down. Oh, drat. It’s not in your eye.” She ran her fingers over Marietta’s face as though reading Braille. “It’s not on your face either. Maybe it’s on the floor.”
    She took a step back and bent down to survey the area. “Oops,” she said after a minute. “You don’t wear hard contacts, do you? Most people wear soft, you know.”
“Hard contacts are the only kind that work with my eyes. Why?”
“Because I see half of it.”
“Half of it?” Marietta’s stomach did some more tumbling maneuvers that had nothing to do with morning sickness.
    “The other half’s on my shoe. I can’t believe this. I just crunched my idol’s contact lens. I’m super sorry, Dr. Dalrymple. I’ll do anything to make up for it. Please let me.”
    Marietta tried to focus on the girl, but her nearsighted eye couldn’t synchronize with the eye with corrected vision. She saw two mouths, both of them frowning in misery. She had a vivid picture of the girl lobbying to get her elected as president of NOW.
    “That won’t be necessary, Vicky. Mistakes happen. Don’t worry about it.” Marietta went to the sink, popped out her other contact and reached into her purse for the pair of eyeglasses she always kept there. She tossed two tissues, a pillbox and three packages of crackers onto the counter before she remembered switching from her large brown purse to her small black one that morning.
    Accessorize, Tracy was always telling her. Never, ever carry a brown purse when your dress was predominantly black. Foolishly, Marietta had listened to her, even though her black purse didn’t have nearly enough room for all her things. Come to think of it, Tracy was the one who’d persuaded Marietta to get the contacts. And look what had happened.
    She was a professor known for her vision who couldn’t see a foot in front of her face unless someone stuck one there.
    “Can I help you with anything?” Vicky asked, her voice contrite.
    “Oh, no. You’ve done quite enough already.” Somehow Marietta was able to smile, just like she’d manage to get through the class that should be starting right about now. If she held her notes close enough to her eyes, she’d be able to read them. It didn’t really matter if she couldn’t see her students.
    “It was such an honor to meet you, Dr. Dalrymple,” Vicky called after her as she exited the restroom. Marietta spun to acknowledge her with a wave, turned back around and promptly collided with the door frame. Dazed, as well as nauseous and near-blind, she headed into the hall.
    “Marietta, do you have a moment?”
    The hall was blurry, like the reception on a cheap television that wasn’t hooked up to cable, but she could identify the man who’d asked the question.
    None of her other colleagues had quite the same shape as Professor Robert Cormicle, who sort of resembled a fuzzy lamp post. His body was tall and lean, which, unfortunately, made his rather large head look out of proportion. If Marietta hadn’t been so versed in biology, she might have believed his head needed to be large to house his brain, which was enormously impressive.
    “Robert! I’m so glad I ran into you. I need you to do me a really big favor. I’m late for class or I’d do it myself. Could you call my sister Tracy and ask her to bring me my brown purse?” Before he could respond, Marietta rattled off Tracy’s cell number.
“Of course I will, but—”
“Do you need me to repeat that?”
“No, of course not. I have an excellent memory. That’s not what I was going to say.”
“What were you going to say?”
    “I just. . . I wanted to. . . I thought you and I might. . .” Robert, who could spout chemical equations as easily as elementary students reciting the