Rhea Thomas
The Third Eye
Most people couldn’t see Sam’s third eye, but when he was tired or drunk, it tended to make an appearance, winking suggestively at other men, indiscriminate.
Sam was both super tired and beyond tipsy, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt it open. His third eye was a problem for several reasons: 1. He wasn’t gay, 2. He hated being seen as a freak, and 3. It was the first time Rebecca, his girlfriend of two would witness its appearance.
The party was opening night for a hip new restaurant located on the top floor of a downtown hotel. Rebecca worked for a monthly Texas magazine as a food critic, receiving a coveted invite.
Deep in a discussion about avocados with a guy named Beto, Sam’s third eye opened. He could tell by the brief tightening of skin and the fluttery feeling of eyelashes on his forehead as the eye awoke and stretched. He considered excusing himself, but it was too late.
“Avocados were originally called alligator pears in Florida, but in California – “ Beto stopped midsentence to stare. “Are you seeing this, too? Or is it just me?” he asked his date, whose name Sam didn’t remember.
Beto’s girlfriend pointed, mouth open wide.
Rebecca gasped sharply.
Sam felt all eyes on his forehead. He usually grew his hair long enough to cover his forehead, but Rebecca had talked him into a haircut last weekend. He usually carried a beanie around too, but realized it was unhelpfully in his car downstairs in the hotel garage.
He had planned to tell Rebecca about his unique condition, but kept putting it off, and now, well, there was no hiding.
He felt the eye wink at Beto and flutter suggestively. He turned to Rebecca and whispered, “I’m sorry, maybe we should go?”
“Oh my god, look at that! What’s wrong with his head?” someone blurted from across the room. Other exclamations filled the air as people turned to look.
He ducked his head, cheeks burning, that familiar sick feeling roiling his stomach.
Rebecca looked appalled, and tried to angle her body to put herself between Sam and the onlookers. She replied quietly, “I need to stay, but maybe you should.” She looked around at staring crowd. “Yes, I think you need to leave.” She pivoted away, and headed toward the bar.
Beto spoke up. ‘“So, I’ve never seen that before. How does it work?”
Staring after Rebecca, Sam said, “Well, I see chakras. I can tell if they are out of alignment or need to be unblocked.” He glanced around to make sure other people weren’t listening.
Beto looked impressed.
Beto’s girlfriend spoke up. “Can you look at my chakras?”
Sam sighed. “Yeah, your root chakra is out of alignment.”
“I knew it! Beto, I told you something felt wrong. I’m going to schedule a massage!” She stood, fishing a cell phone from her cavernous bag.
Beto shrugged and rose to follow her.
Sam found himself alone. This was the story of his life; always slightly apart from others. Even his parents hadn’t understood, pushing him to hide his third eye so other kids wouldn’t treat him differently. But it was like everyone sensed his differentness. He’d only found true acceptance from his grandmother, Seraphina, who never made him feel weird or asked him to hide. In fact, she encouraged him to embrace the third eye, told him to lean into his gift, and learn from what he could see .
“Hey, it’s Sam, right?” a voice piped up behind him.
He turned to see a coworker of Rebecca’s. He thought she’d been introduced to him earlier as Teagan.
“Don’t let these losers upset you. They don’t appreciate anything that’s different.”
“That’s really nice of you to say. Teagan, right?”
“Yeah. And I mean it. Don’t worry about these people, they aren’t the kind you should care about anyway.”
He looked at her dubiously.
She continued, “No, really, only pretentious snobs here today. All restaurant openings are like that. The people who feel the need to name-drop and be the first to eat somewhere new and trendy. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
Curious, he asked, “Aren’t you one of those people too?”
She mocked offense, and then laughed. “Ha! I’m undercover.”
“You’re what?”
“Undercover. I write a food blog under an anonymous name. I don’t blow smoke up these celebrity chefs’ asses. I tell it like it is. I get invited occasionally, like tonight, because my dad’s a chef, but if they knew I wrote that blog, they wouldn’t want me here. Critiquing and bitching is kind of my thing.” She grinned and shrugged.
“Sam, I thought you were leaving.” Rebecca reappeared at his side, her voice quiet but firm.
He flushed and noticed Teagan’s eyebrows rise. “I am leaving, not because you think I should, but because I don’t want to spend any more time with you and other rude people who think it’s okay to stare and point.”
He heard someone clapping and saw Beto, his girlfriend frantically trying to shush him. He caught and held Rebecca’s gaze. “I’m so disappointed. I thought you were different.”
Teagan caught up with him at the elevators. She smiled. “Want to grab some coffee?”
Her chakras were perfectly aligned, not a single one blocked. He nodded. “I’d like that.”
They stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, she leaned in and whispered into his ear, “When I get turned on, I grow a third nipple.”
All three of his eyes widened in surprise.
Rhea Thomas lives in Austin, Texas where she works as a program manager in the digital media world. She spends her free time hoarding books, kayaking and swimming in rivers, searching for mysteries and writing short stories that explore magical moments in the mundane.
