Chapter 2 - THE WORLD WITHOUT HER GLASSES
Eluned’s prescription was strong enough that adults often misunderstood what “blurry” meant.
Without glasses she could see me across the kitchen.
She could not see my expression clearly.
She could walk through familiar rooms.
She could not read the whiteboard at school.
She could identify Cerys by dress and hair.
She could not see the details on Cerys’s shoes while kneeling at her feet.
That fact made me sick.
Her ophthalmologist explained it again for the police report.
High bilateral myopia.
Astigmatism.
No blindness.
No permanent damage from losing the glasses for a day.
Still:
The glasses were a medical necessity for normal school and daily function.
Morgause knew.
She had taken Eluned to an eye appointment once when I was stuck at work.
Then came the replacement.
Two days.
Eluned chose purple frames.
“Not black.”
“Why?”
“Aunt broke black.”
Fair.
We ordered two pairs.
One regular.
One backup.
Insurance covered part.
I paid the rest.
Morgause would later be asked for restitution if prosecutors pursued the property damage.
Separate.
Then school.
The counselor, Helen Mercer, called me.
“Eluned is asking whether she has to earn lunch.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
“She asked the cafeteria aide what chores she could do.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she say why?”
“She said Aunt Morgause tells her food comes after helping.”
Not enough to assume starvation.
Children do chores.
Families have rules.
The difference was the humiliation.
Shoes.
Food.
Glasses.
I asked Helen:
“Should I question her?”
“No.”
Good.
A child advocacy specialist would handle any broader interview.
I consented.
Then I called Owen.
Cerys’s father.
Morgause and Owen had been divorced for eighteen months.
Shared custody.
He sounded exhausted before I finished.
“Cerys told me.”
“What?”
“About the shoes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That her mom told Eluned to polish them.”
“Did Cerys ask?”
“No.”
Good.
Then Owen said:
“She’s crying because she thinks Eluned will hate her.”
“She won’t.”
“Don’t promise what Eluned feels.”
Fair.
I corrected.
“I’ll make sure she knows Cerys didn’t create the situation.”
“Thank you.”
Then:
“Has Morgause done this before?”
A pause.
“She makes things comparative.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
I did.
Cerys gets straight A’s.
Eluned gets reading award.
Who worked harder?
Cerys dances.
Eluned does art.
Which costs more?
Cerys gets new dress.
Eluned gets prescription glasses.
Why is one a need and the other a luxury?
Morgause could turn weather into a scoreboard.
But I had never seen servant language.
Not until now.
Then Owen said:
“She used to make Cerys return gifts if they weren’t equal to something Eluned got.”
“What?”
“She’d say Grandma favored your side.”
Our father had bought Eluned new glasses the year before he died.
Five hundred dollars after insurance.
He bought Cerys a bicycle that Christmas.
Morgause called the bicycle “catch-up.”
May you like
I had laughed.
I shouldn’t have.
