Eclipse

Eclipse

Clouds in a dawn sky seen through stoical eyes can sometimes seem like ethereal carriers of innermost angst. Maybe there is a silent catharsis in imagining pain being lifted away on forgiving breezes regardless of recalcitrance. It was on such a day that I recall waking with a mild hangover to be greeted by an insipid horizon through my bedroom window. Another unremarkable moment in a forgettable present. The weather really does bear the burden of expectation and fortune.

A stranger called this morning; an incident notably filled momentarily by the silhouette of an impromptu peddler. With the sun at his back, the carpetbagger formed a human eclipse all of his own. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that the man stood tall, legs astride emanating an assuredness that was surely a requirement for anyone engaged in the heinously difficult occupation of door-to-door selling. For a brief moment he was met with a stony-faced reception enveloped in silence; a pre-requisite that complemented a “no hawkers” sticker stuck to the wooden front-door.

I expected a pitch along the lines of offering to jet-wash my drive, fit new windows, install plastic soffits or some other home improvement in exchange for money. Hard cash, of course. However, today was different: it was the day of a solar eclipse. He stared into my eyes, a cream trilby hat with feather poking out make me think of a spiv from wartime. The headwear didn’t match the rest of his garb – white tee shirt, beige slacks and pale blue casual shoes gave the appearance of a refugee from a cruise liner. He broke the impasse and smiled in an attempt to be disarming; my breath held ready for the punchline.

“Can I interest you….” the looming question was punctured by my hand already wafting in the air. The answer circling my head was no before the proposition could be spat out like a landed mackerel on the greasy deck of a North Sea fishing boat. 

“If I may finish sir..” I couldn’t help but notice the cobalt blue swirling in his irises as though the world in microcosm sat inside his eyes; a captivating twinkle drew my reluctant gaze. From a hessian bag carried by shoulder strap and dangling down at his side he bent low to reach inside. It was difficult to quell mischievous thoughts of tinkers plying their trade only we didn’t generally get tinkers on most housing estates in Northampton. When we did they were invariably in disguise and didn’t look like tinkers at all.

“As I am sure you are aware, a solar eclipse is forecast for today.” His tone was rhythmic, intonation rising at the end of the sentence for emphasis, faint Irish permeating a broader colloquial accent. In his hand he held a pair of sunglasses with dark lenses.

“Looking directly at the sun can cause permanent damage to a viewer’s eyes. Notwithstanding, today is a rare opportunity to see one of nature’s greatest wonders first hand. To enable a safe undertaking, I am offering these specially designed glasses for the low, low price of just £20.”

Low, low put me in mind of television commercials; the kind of language used to persuade would-be-buyers to dial the number on the screen and readily transact on their not-so-pristine credit cards. Those ads that were shown during the day shuffled in amongst smiling geriatrics promoting funeral plans and skits selling reclining comfy chairs for the aging. I kidded myself that the target audience excluded the likes of me but this was self-delusional for a man in his sixties.

“Why would I need something when the stellar event is due thousands of miles away?”

Mrs Tillson was emptying the grass collector from her lawn mower on the front garden directly opposite. She was looking across the close at the unfolding conversation. A disinterested expression masked a nosiness that came with living in a crescent-shaped arrangement of brick houses.

I continued: “I read that the eclipse starts in Mexico at 11:07am their time, then blazes a trail through US states including Texas ending somewhere in Canada on its path of totality…..or something like that.” It was only now that I realised how young the interloper was. I estimated him to be in his twenties, a thin face distinguished with a sharp nose gave him a hungry look; short, neat fair hair offset his trim, athletic body. I envied his youth.

“Ah yes, you have been following the news. The thing is, this unusual and magical circumstance will be visible right here in the fine county of Northamptonshire. These glasses will facilitate observing a truly spectacular sight. With it comes hope; hope and optimism.”

The last few words resonated like an echo in a dry well. It was as though he was looking into my soul as he spoke. I suddenly felt exposed. Normally any attempt to engage me in any kind of discussion at the door would have been met with short shrift by now. There was something slightly off kilter about this man. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Isn’t there a proper eclipse due here in 2026? Maybe come back then when we can all watch it together.” The question was riddled with guilt. An uneasy sensation had crept in; a voice telling me I was now being unreasonable.

“Ah, a man after my own heart. A knowledgeable man. Yes, that’s true but why wait for another two years? Who knows where any of us will be by then?” He rode the objection with a nonchalance that belied his years. Something about him was familiar. He had an uncanny knack for making me feel at ease. The point was well made; the future looked uncertain these days like shrouded mist in a gypsy’s crystal ball.

Almost unthinkingly, my hand wandered in search of my back pocket. As luck would have it, a folded bank note had been secreted away. Pulling it out, I glared at the denomination – it was a twenty. Before I could analyse the situation further, a hand gently snatched the currency from my grip and smuggled the black plastic eyewear into my empty left palm. It was how I imagined a drug deal would go down.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir.” He lifted the trilby off his head and tipped it forward in a gesture of gratitude, his face beaming with delight. I carried a feeling of bemusement back into the lounge with me not quite sure of what had happened. I simply never bought stuff on the doorstep.

The room looked as austere as it had for some time now. Slumping on the settee, I tossed the glasses onto one of the cushions and reached for the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels perched on the coffee table. Pouring amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, my gaze carried to the picture gallery hanging on the wall. Images of happy family times in Benidorm, poses for the camera, staged laughter on cue. My wife Jenny had been gone these past six months; hearts can be fragile things not built to last forever. Most days were spent moping from room to room punctuated by the occasional messenger call from one of the kids. It was a spiral that edged ever downward drifting towards darkness.

Gulping bourbon, thoughts glided, aimless ones about life and its purpose. Being retired wasn’t all it was cracked up to be; not if you were on your own. The man had mentioned hope; hope and optimism. It was as though he knew me and was trying to tell me something. Standing, I shuffled to the bay window. Houses in the close fanned in a semi-circle on the right until dwellings straightened again and linked with a road at the mouth of the estate. Staring through square-leaded panes, I scanned, searching, hoping to catch sight of the curious soul who had managed to sell me something bought spontaneously. Mrs Tillson had gone inside but there was no sign of the salesman. Surely he couldn’t have covered the other houses so quickly.

The rest of the day was frittered away quietly; at least in my universe. Colourless overcast skies formed the tail end of yet another named storm from the Atlantic. Under normal circumstances, routine was to rustle up dinner around 6pm and eat it on a tray in front of the news. Uncharacteristically, I was late tonight and by the time I was sat down with a plate of chicken pie, mash, peas and gravy on my lap, it was nearly 7pm. The latest stories from the UK and around the globe were showing on Channel 4. Needless to say, the lead story was the solar eclipse with voxpops of people talking about their excitement and clips explaining the science behind the unravelling phenomenon.

I thought about the earlier exchange with the young man at the door. The “special” glasses were still on the sofa. The whole thing made little sense really. Just £20 for such a specialist item when the event was unlikely to be seen here anyway. Through the reverie, a reporter could be heard getting animated, jabbering at pace into his microphone. It broke the spell of meandering deliberation.

Taking the glasses, I slipped them on and went upstairs. It was 19:55 according to the radio-clock on my bedside cabinet. From the bedroom window, a rooftop panorama presented a scene of parting cumulus and a star in the final throws of being engulfed by a dark lunar disc. What the salesman from earlier hadn’t made clear was that the Heavenly occurrence was only a partial eclipse. Even so, it was a spectacular sight. I stayed and watched as the event itself came and went followed by a phosphorous sun finally setting across a dusk-laden sky. Maybe there was something in what the peddler had said about hope after all.

The ringtone of my mobile phone blared. I took it from my pocket and saw Sarah’s name flashing on screen. I answered:

“Hi Sarah. Did you see it? The eclipse, I mean. Did you see it?” I surprised myself with overdue enthusiasm.

For a few seconds there was silence.

“Hi Dad. They said on the news that the eclipse was only visible in Scotland. Are you sure you saw it?”

There was an awkwardness, an unasked question about drinking sitting latent in the background. I reflected again on the day’s events. Was any of it real or was this just a trick played by whiskey in the daytime? Grief did funny things to people.

 “Anyway….dad, we have some news for you. Me and Lee.”

My life had been dark for so long now it seemed that perhaps the sun in metaphor would break through eventually and light the way again. The circle of life bringing birth. Maybe we are all players on a stage or possibly buyers at a door waiting for hope. Perhaps celestial powers are looking back at those gazing outwards determining yin from yang; our place in the Great Cycle.    

Image free to use at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Partial-Solar-eclipse.jpg