Page 44 of Power Play

“No.” She shakes her head vigorously.

“Maya, baby, haven’t we talked about this? I need you to wear glasses and an eye patch from time to time. We need to train your right eye.” I’m standing on my knees, holding her gaze and trying my best not to cry myself. I need to be strong for her. “Remember what Doctor?—”

“I don’t want it!” she yells at me. Then she pushes herself away from the wall and runs out of the bathroom.

I stay put, her pink glasses in one hand and an eye patch with unicorns on it in the other. My chest caves in; my breathing is short and erratic. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I expected her to throw a tantrum, maybe refuse to wear the eye patch.

God, I don’t want to cry, but hot, fat tears are already filling my eyes.

Maya doesn’t want to wear her glasses, doesn’t want to put an eye patch on. She wants me to leave her alone, but I can’t. If everything the doctor prescribed works, she won’t need surgery. But if I fail at getting her to do what needs to be done, then…

A sob bolts out of my throat, and tears come flooding. I weep, quietly at first, my body wracked by shuddering sobs. Slowly, I stand up from the floor, put the glasses and the eye patch on the bathroom counter, and wander to my bedroom. I don’t have the energy to go find her. I need a moment to myself to calm down.

I plop onto my bed, close my eyes, and lie here. My face is wet from tears.It’s going to be fine. I’ll be able to convince her. Maya will agree, and it will help with her intermittent exotropia. She’s going to be healthy and fine. She’s going to be?—

“Mommy?” Her quiet, shaky voice makes my eyes snap open. Maya stands in front of me, her face red and tearstained. She’s still crying, and it cracks my heart more. These are no longer angry tears; she’s just upset.

“Come, sweetie.” I wriggle, making room for her. “Come here.”

Maya climbs onto my bed, moving toward me until her face is hidden in my chest. I wrap my arms around her slender little body and press her to me, holding her close.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t make you cry.”

“Y-you cry too,” she hiccups. “Mommy, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, I understand that you’re scared, but please know you have nothing to be scared of.” I bend down, and she lifts her face to me. “Do you remember what the doctor told you?”

She nods.

“Your right eye is a bit weaker than your left, a bit lazier. We need to train it, and wearing an eye patch a few hours a day will help us. Just like the glasses.”

“I don’t like it.” She sniffles.

“I often have to do things I don’t like, but I do them anyway. You’ll be wearing the eye patch at home, when it’s just us. Will that be better for you?”

“Yes.”

“The glasses are different because you’ll need to wear them to preschool.”

Maya frowns, and her pouty mouth starts trembling again.

“But didn’t you see how beautiful they are? How cool? They are pink!”

“Pink?”

“Wanna see them?” I ask, a hopeful sound to my hoarse voice.

She nods and starts moving away, but instead, I pull her into me and keep her close. “A few more minutes, okay?” I hide my nose in her soft hair, the smell of cotton candy hitting my nostrils. She’s an embodiment of everything that’s important to me. She’s my home.

“Okay.”

We lie together in the dimness of my room. Usually, I’d light some scented candles that I have on my nightstand while I’m getting ready for bed, but now I have no desire to move. The minutes are ticking by. It’s growing darker as night falls. Maya’s heart is beating slow and steady, her breathing labored and quiet. Then she falls asleep, and for the first time in several months, I let her stay instead of taking her to her room.

I snuggle her into me and close my eyes, letting sleep win me over.

We’re going to be fine. I know it.

Chapter 16

---