Chapter 3 - Eli’s eyes
The emergency department flushed Eli’s eyes for almost twenty minutes.
He hated every second.
He screamed at first.
Then cried quietly.
Then complained the water was cold.
That last complaint reassured me more than anything.
Dr. Maya Ellis examined him.
No vision loss.
No deep chemical injury.
The perfume had caused acute ocular irritation and a small superficial corneal epithelial abrasion in the right eye, probably from Eli rubbing it aggressively rather than the spray itself.
His cheek and forehead were red.
No burn.
No respiratory emergency.
No hospitalization.
She prescribed lubricating drops and antibiotic ointment for the abrasion as precaution.
Follow-up with pediatric ophthalmology.
Expected full recovery.
I cried.
Eli looked at me.
“Am I blind?”
“No.”
“Can I play games?”
The doctor smiled.
“Not tonight.”
He groaned.
Recovery had begun.
Then the hospital social worker arrived.
Because an adult relative had deliberately sprayed something into a five-year-old’s face.
Because police were involved.
Because the child’s grandparents had defended it.
Her name was Sharon Mills.
She asked Eli:
“Would you like Mom to stay?”
He grabbed my hand.
“Yes.”
She asked me not to answer for him.
Fine.
“Eli, what happened before your eyes started hurting?”
“Aunt Lena sprayed me.”
“Why?”
“I said it smelled bad.”
“What did she say?”
“That I whine.”
“Did she tell you she was going to spray you?”
He shook his head.
“Has she ever sprayed you before?”
I looked at him.
Sharon noticed.
“Mom, let him answer.”
I nodded.
Eli said:
“On my shirt.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
He shrugged.
“At Grandma’s.”
“One time?”
He held up two fingers.
Then changed to one.
“I don’t know.”
“What did she spray?”
“Her smell stuff.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No. I changed my shirt.”
I stared at the floor.
I had not known.
Or had I?
Memory began moving.
Three weeks earlier Eli came home from my parents’ house saying:
“Aunt Lena made me smell gross.”
I thought she had sprayed perfume into the room.
I had asked:
“Did she spray you?”
He said:
“My shirt.”
I called Lena.
She laughed.
“He walked through it.”
I accepted that.
Why?
May you like
Because the alternative was an argument.
That fact sat heavily inside me.
