text: “Oh shit,” Chris said as he looked in the mirror, stroking his upper lip. “What’s the matter?” said Ralph, the optician. “I just missed a spot shaving this morning. Right above my upper lip. I didn’t notice this morning, but it’s grown out now. I look like Hitler! I gotta stop shaving in the shower without a mirror. Look at this!” Chris stepped out of the bathroom and pointed to his upper lip. Ralph chuckled. “Yeah, you do look like Hitler,” Ralph said. “Do you have a razor I could borrow?” “No, but even if I did, I wouldn’t let you borrow it, that’s disgusting.” “What’s disgusting about sharing a razor? I’d clean it off!” Chris said as he held his hands up in disbelief. “I dunno,” said Ralph, turning back to his computer. “You might get blood on it.” “So? I’ll rinse it off. I obviously wouldn’t give you back a bloody razor. Who the hell does that?” “I dunno, it’s just gross,” said Ralph looking back at Chris. “Besides, I don’t have a razor, and you only have one more patient left for the day anyway. You’ll survive.” Chris rubbed his finger over his upper lip and felt the long stubble. Debra, the tech came around the corner. “Dr. Gottlieb, your last patient is ready. She’s such a sweet old lady, you’re gonna love her!” When Chris turned around, Debra recoiled and contorted her face in disgust. “Oh God!” she said. “What did you do? Why did you grow a Hitler stache?” “I didn’t mean to!” Chris said. “I just missed a spot shaving, and I didn’t notice until now that my hair is growing in this late in the day, it looks like a push broom mustache.” “You mean, a Hitler stache?” said Debra. “Or a Charlie Chaplin!” said Chris, raising his hands in the air. “This was a popular style before Hitler went and ruined it.” “It’s a Hitler stache, Doc,” Debra said, pursing her lips. She pivoted and went back to the front desk. Chris turned to Ralph. “What am I gonna do?” he said, his voice rising and tightening with anxiety. “Get going and see that patient,” said Ralph flatly. “She’s probably like 90 years old and I want to go home. She probably won’t notice anyway.” Chris grumbled and looked back in the mirror. “I mean, I guess it’s not that prominent, you have to have an imagination to see how it.” “Yeah, sure,” said Ralph, his nose in his computer scrolling Facebook. Chris flattened his white coat and took a deep breath and walked to the door of the exam room. He knocked gently before he entered. “Come in!” said a cheerful German accented voice from beyond the door. He walked into the room, trying to keep his finger covering his upper lip as if he was rubbing his nose. He looked down at her chart and saw her name. “Hello Mrs. Eichelman, I’m Dr. Gottlieb, it’s very nice to meet you.” Extending his right hand, he kept his left hand over his upper lip. She didn’t shake his hand, he thought maybe she was offended, maybe she caught a glimpse of the mustache. “Oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that’s a nice German name!” she said in a pleasant voice. “I wish I could see you, but I can’t see anything without my glasses.” Chris breathed a sigh of relief, she wouldn’t be able to see his face, nor his “mustache.” He could get through this without offending her. He put his hand down and looked at her file. “Yes, my grandfather was from Germany,” said Chris. He wanted to get off the German topic as quickly as he could. He knew his Grandfather’s past in Germany was suspect to say the least. “Oh, that’s wunderbar! Sprechen sie Deutsch?” “Ein bisschen.” Mrs. Eichelman laughed. “I mostly spoke Yiddish growing up, even my German isn’t all the great even though that’s where I was born. But your accent is spectacular!” Doing the math in his head and knowing her country of origin, Chris knew wanted to get off the subject. He liked this woman and she seemed very sweet, and likely, since she was older, didn’t get out much or have anyone to talk to. Chris had a soft spot for these types of people, the elderly who had very little family or friends, going to the optometrist was the highlight of their week and he wanted to make sure she felt welcome and could speak as much as she wanted. But not about this, not about his German heritage. “Danke schoen,” Chris said quickly. He looked through her chart. “Let’s see...you look to be in good health...a little hypertension...” “Oy, yanno, I try to keep it under control, but I’m worried about what’s happening in this country these days. It seems like the Nazis are coming back, I thought we were done with them! I was very scared to see those young boys marching with the torches.” Chris swallowed hard. “If I saw another Nazi,” she said and her voice got low and serious, “I would slit their throat because that’s what they deserve.” He laughed nervously. “Oh, I agree, it’s terrible...” said Chris. “Let’s check your vision.” Before Mrs. Eichelman had a chance to say another word, Chris put the phoropter in front of her eyes and adjusted it so that it sat comfortably on her nose. “Is that comfortable for you?” Chris asked. “I can’t see anything still,” she replied. “That’s because I haven’t put your prescription in there yet,” said Chris. “I see the big E!” she said, laughing. “I just want to make sure it’s not pinching you or pressing on you uncomfortably,” said Chris. “E. I can see that, but it’s fuzzy.” Chris rolled his eyes and entered in the prescription from the autorefraction into the phoropter. “Oh, that’s good. E,” said Mrs. Eichelman. Chris said nothing. He kept turning the knobs until it reflected her autorefraction prescription she had on her page. “E,” she said again. “That’s very clear.” Chris changed the chart on the screen to a much smaller line. “That’s too small, make it bigger please,” said Mrs. Eichelman. “I liked the big E, I could see that.” Chris grumbled under his breath and turned up the next largest line. “That’s fuzzy,” she said. “Bring back the big E, I could see that one!” “Well, I have to give you somewhat of a challenge to make sure you can see well. Can you read the letters there?” Chris asked. “H...V...O...T...Z...” she said, carefully and tentatively. “Great! Perfect!” said Chris. Then he clicked to the next lens. “Is that better or worse?” “H...V...O--” she began. Chris cut her off. “No, you don’t have to read the letters again. Just tell me if it’s clearer. Here.” He flipped back to the old lens. “This is one...” and then he flipped back to the other lens again, “this is two...which do you prefer? Which on is clearer?” “H...V...O...” she began. He blocked off that eye and switched to the other, huffing as he did. He changed the letters on the screen. “What happened? I can’t see out of my right eye,” said Mrs. Eichelman. “I switched to the left. Can you read those letters?” “I think two is better,” she said. Chris hung his head. “No, Mrs. Eichelman, I changed the letters on the screen, can you read them?” “Can you show me one again?” she asked. He took the phoropter away, he wasn’t getting anywhere. “Is that it?” she asked, squinting at him. He grabbed the clunky trial frames, rooted around his case of loose lenses. “I’m just going to see if you can see better with the new prescription,” he said, fiddling with the lens case and trial lenses. “Will I have my new glasses by the time I have to go to Temple tonight? I have a hard time seeing the Rabbi from my seat,” she asked. Her voice was so sweet and innocent, he couldn’t be annoyed with her for very long. “No,” he said, “Unfortunately, it takes a week for the glasses to be made, but you’ll have them by the next Sabbath.” “Oh, you know about Shabbat, are you Jewish too?” “No ma’am,” he said. “Oh that’s too bad, because you seem like a very nice young man. You’d be perfect for my granddaughter.” “Oh, that’s nice of you to say, Mrs. Eichelman, but I’m happily married,” Chris said as he held up his ring hand. She squinted and strained to see it. “Oh, well you’ll see it better, once I get these glasses on,” Chris said and placed the trial frames over her eyes. “Oh, these are heavy,” she said and lifted the frames off her nose. “But I can see again!” She smiled looking around the room at everything she could now see. Then she focused on Chris’s face and her smile dropped to a scowl. The skin on her cheeks turned red with fury. “Nazi!” she yelled and hit him with her purse. “What?” Chris said in confusion. Then he touched his upper lip. Mrs. Eichelman stormed out of the room as fast as her body would allow her muttering angrily in Yiddish. He chased after her. “No! I just missed a spot shaving! Mrs. Eichelman!” he yelled and ran toward the front to explain himself, but she was yelling to her daughter, who drove her to the appointment. Her daughter spotted him and pointed a finger in his face. “My mother didn’t escape to America just to deal with Nazis here. You monster!” said the daughter. She turned her mother around and guided her out the door, keeping her piercing glare on Chris’s face. “Let’s go, Mom.” Mrs. Eichelman turned and spat on the ground. “Burn in hell!” she yelled on her way out the door. Chris stood up front in disbelief as the patients picking out their glasses scowling at him. “I’m not a Nazi! I swear!” Chris pleaded. All the patients in the waiting room left, striking their angry eyes at Chris, muttering how terrible of a person he is and how they’ll never return. “You’ll be getting a bad review from me, Hitler!” cried one man. After the last patient had left the office. Debra looked at Ralph, who ran up from the lens lab to see the commotion, they both laughed.