One of the main problems with having a sister who is three and a half years younger than you are, especially when you’re of primary school age, is that you always have to do things together – whether you want to or not. We both preferred to keep ourselves to ourselves, and would invariably spend our free time shut away in our bedrooms, not talking to each other. However, when one of us had to go out, the other one got dragged along as well. I wasn’t over-keen at being there when we went to drop Chelsea off at some party or other, and the fact that she spent most of her time on the swings and slides when I was playing football for my team on a Saturday morning seemed to indicate she felt much the same way about my activities. At least we didn’t spend our time squabbling and arguing over the most insignificant little things, like we did when we were dragged out round the shops with one or other of our parents. Whenever we went out, the other one was forced to come along too, as we were too young to be left alone. If I had to pick my least favourite outing, it had to be the termly meetings we had with the teachers at the Primary school we both went to. We had to listen to each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and invariably ended up arguing about them on the way home. The reports seldom seemed to vary much, either. “David is very intelligent but could work a lot harder if he wanted to.” (It was true, but as I was in my final year at the school, I felt like I was one of the big boys, and I knew exactly what I was doing.) “Chelsea tries really hard in class, but she is a year behind her peers in terms of her reading age.” Every time we had these meetings, the outcome was the same. I was made to spend my time doing homework in the dining room, and Chelsea had to spend half an hour each night, reading – either on her own or with Mum or Dad to listen to her and help her with the words she didn’t know. We didn’t go out that often as a family, if the truth be known. It didn’t help that Dad did shift work, as he was always quite tired, and Mum had a part-time office job to help make ends meet. This meant that she was able to look after us before and after school, but we didn’t get to go away at all, as they had to take turns in looking after us, when we were on holiday. Occasionally we would get to go out for a treat, but even this was often more like a bribe for behaving well at some other event, like a visit to the doctor’s or the dentist’s. The biggest waste of time of all was our yearly visit to get our eyes checked. Mum said it was important, because both she and Dad wore glasses, so it was highly likely that we would need them too, one day. Dad only wore his glasses when he was driving; I’d tried them on once or twice, and they made virtually no difference. Mum’s glasses were a lot stronger; you didn’t need to be an expert to see that. Firstly, she wore them all the time, and secondly, on those rare occasions when I had tried her glasses on, I really couldn’t see clearly with them at all. Our visit at the start of the school year began in much the same way as previous ones had. Mum hadn’t told us in advance as she knew one or other or us would have moaned incessantly, so she simply picked us up from school and dragged us into town to get our eyes tested. I went first, and Chelsea had to sit very quietly while I had my eyes examined. I knew from the previous year that my left eye was ever so slightly short-sighted, so it was possible I might be getting glasses, but it turned out that not a lot had changed in the last twelve months. Both eyes were now a little short-sighted, but if I got glasses, they would be so weak they would hardly make any difference, so I was told to come back again in twelve months, unless I had any problems. Then, it was my turn to sit and watch while Chelsea had her eyes tested. I kept willing her to make a mistake when she was reading the chart on the wall, but she didn’t, and she was told that her eyesight was perfectly normal for a healthy seven year-old. What surprised us both was that Mum also had her eyes tested, and was told that she needed to get new glasses. It wasn’t much fun watching her trying on various frames, and I don’t think either Chelsea or I were much help in her decision over which frames to select. We weren’t impressed by the fact that when she had chosen one frame, she then went on and chose a second one. Once we were back in the car, I asked her why she needed two pairs of glasses. She told us that one was for seeing far distances and the other was to make it easier for her to read clearly, as her eyes were getting older and needed more help with reading. She must have picked the glasses up after work about ten days later, as she was wearing them when she picked us up from school. If it weren’t for the fact that the lenses looked so much brighter in the new pair, and the metallic frame sparkled in the sunlight, I might not even have noticed. She did make some comment about getting used to them, which rather surprised me, as I thought that you just got new glasses, put them on, and could see perfectly. I did ask about the reading glasses as well, but as she was driving, she couldn’t show them to me at that moment. “Mum, do you think I’ll need glasses like you and Dad?” Chelsea asked at this point. “One day, maybe, but certainly not yet, and I hope you never need glasses as strong as mine. I can’t see anything without them.” After that, the conversation drifted off onto plans for the weekend, and I didn’t really give it any more thought. In fact, Mum’s new glasses were so similar to her old ones that, even by the following day, I had forgotten that they were new. The next week at school was the same as any other. The same lessons, the same preparation for our SATs tests in six months’ time – nothing to remember the week by. I played football again on the Saturday, and we drew 2-2. It wasn’t my best performance ever, but Mum didn’t see much of it as she was busy supervising Chelsea on the swings and slides. It was Monday evening, and Dad had just got home from work. Chelsea was out at her dance class, so I had a bit of peace and quiet in the house, and because Dad was around, I didn’t have to go with Mum, just to drop her off. “Richard, have you seen my reading glasses? I could have sworn I brought them home on Friday evening, but cannot find them anywhere. I hunted high and low in the office as well, but no-one had seen them.” “No,” Dad answered. “When did you last use them?” “On Friday, when I was at work. I’m almost certain I put them in my work bag at the end of the day, but as they’re mostly for work, I haven’t had them out over the weekend.” “In that case, they must still be at work somewhere. You haven’t seen them, have you, David?” I hadn’t, but, that evening, Mum looked everywhere she thought she might have put her reading glasses, without any luck at all. Dinner was distinctly overcooked – none of us dared use the word “burnt”, as we didn’t want to get in trouble for anything and everything else as well. I made sure I was seen to do my homework diligently, although I was interrupted a couple of times when Mum came past to look somewhere even more improbable for the missing glasses, and Chelsea practised her reading with Dad to allow Mum to keep looking. It took a week or so for Mum to conclude that they must have fallen out of her bag somewhere between her office and the car park, or when she nipped into the shops to get some food for the evening. In the end, she ordered herself a new pair, to replace the ones she had lost. It took the best part of a month for the whole saga to reach its conclusion. Christmas and New Year passed unremarkably. The weather during January and February was cold, but never quite cold enough for more than a few flakes of snow, and before we knew it, Easter was upon us. That meant there were just six short weeks to go until our SATs tests, and I was being made to do an hour and a half of homework every night – thirty minutes each of English, Maths and Science. All that, and one final Parents’ Evening, to explain what I still needed to do in order to pass the exams. Actually, the teacher was quite optimistic about my chances and said how much harder I seemed to have been working (I hadn’t been given much choice). Chelsea’s teacher was also very complimentary, and said how much her reading had improved. She wasn’t sure why this had happened, but she did comment that Chelsea always seemed to have her nose glued to a book, even at playtime. She had even asked to move to the front of the classroom so that she could concentrate better. Chelsea looked as if she was going to say something important when she was asked why her reading had improved so much, but ended up mumbling something about working hard to improve as she had been told that was what she needed to do. It was a week or so before the start of the Summer holidays that I stumbled on Chelsea’s secret. It was a hot July day, and I had been outside playing football with my friends. Suddenly, an ice cream van came round the corner, playing a rather tuneless version of “Greensleeves.” I knew he wouldn’t wait for long, so I dashed inside to ask Mum if I could have an ice cream. She gave me a five pound note, and said that I could, as long as I also bought one for Chelsea. As there was no time to lose, I raced upstairs and straight into her bedroom. Chelsea was sitting on her bed, reading, but on her nose were Mum’s reading glasses. She whipped them off as soon as she saw me, but we both knew that she had been caught. I didn’t say anything immediately, but took her order for an ice lolly, and came back with it a couple of minutes later. Closing the door behind me, I handed her the ice lolly. “What are you doing with Mum’s reading glasses?” I asked. “Reading. You won’t tell her, will you? She said she got them to help her with her reading, so I thought I’d try them out. It was a bit difficult at first, but it’s much easier now.” “Is that the pair she lost almost as soon as she got them? Let me have a look.” I held out my hand as she passed the glasses to me. Putting them on, my whole world disappeared into a blur. “You can’t see wearing these. They’re far too strong,” I said. “I can. Look, read this.” She handed me the book she had been looking at. If I forced myself, I could just about make out the words in front of me, but I really had to strain my eyes to see them, and I told her so. “But I can.” She took the glasses and the book from me, put the glasses on, and started reading the page in front of her. She really was reading very well with them. “Now read it without the glasses,” I challenged her. She put the glasses on top of her head, moved the book several inches closer to her face, and continued to read. Now, I understood exactly what her teacher had meant about her having her nose glued to a book – and why. As we continued our conversation, the glasses slipped off her hair and onto her nose. She put them back where they had been, but when they slipped again a few seconds later, she simply adjusted their position on her nose and continued talking to me, as if wearing them was the most natural thing in the world. “Okay, so you find it easier to read with Mum’s reading glasses. Are you going to tell her… or shall I?” “You wouldn’t. That’s not fair! Besides, I’d tell her about you kissing Molly Greenbaum at lunchtime the other day.” If I had realised that anybody had seen me kissing Molly, I wouldn’t have done it, and certainly not if I had realised that the witness would have been my own eight year-old sister. Weighing my options up, I knew better than to say anything. It would have been fine for me to embarrass Chelsea, but for her to get her own back… no, thank you. “Okay, you win. I won’t say anything if you don’t. Anyway, if you saw me and Molly, where were you?” “In the Library, sitting in the corner seat, reading. If the windows had been shut, I wouldn’t have recognised your voice, but once I did… Molly seems like a nice girl.” The threat of my parents finding out about Molly Greenbaum was enough to keep me from saying a word about Chelsea and the glasses, but the older brother in me was concerned that she was damaging her eyesight – or indeed that she had already done so – so I wanted to help her. The only way to find out was to get her eyes tested, and the sooner, the better. It took me a few days to work out how to do it without telling on her, so I persuaded Mum that I thought my eyes had changed and that I probably needed to get glasses. I knew that such an admission would see us both being dragged off to the optician sooner rather than later, and the appointment was hastily arranged for the first week of our Summer holidays. The optician was a little surprised when I said that I thought my eyes had changed and that I needed glasses. I may not have been 100% truthful when asked to choose between two lenses, but the test was soon over, and it was confirmed that my eyes had, indeed, got a little worse, and that, as I seemed to feel I needed glasses, I should get them, although I could probably have waited another year. Then, it was Chelsea’s turn. While I was sitting in the chair, I had glanced occasionally at Chelsea, and could see her screwing her eyes up to try to read the letters on the chart. As she moved to take my place, I could see she was nervous, but there was nothing I could say to help her, so I just wished her “good luck.” The next few minutes didn’t go very well for her. She did admit to having had a few problems seeing from time to time, and when asked to read the chart, she couldn’t get past the second line. Even with those letters, I suspect that she had memorised them, as she seemed to be spending more time looking over at where Mum was sitting than she was trying to read the chart. Once she had the trial frame on, it seemed to take a long time, and a lot of changes of lenses, before Chelsea was able to read the bottom line with both eyes. She was then given a chart to hold which she had to read. This surprised me, as I hadn’t had to do that test. Taking the trial frame off, the optician continued to do a number of tests before he turned back to complete his paperwork. I wondered what he was going to say when he had finished. Rather than talking to Chelsea, he turned to address Mum. “Chelsea’s eyes have changed a lot since she last had her eyes tested, and she is now a very short-sighted young lady. Hers is one of the strongest first prescriptions I have ever seen, and she will need to wear her glasses all the time. I’m not sure what has caused her eyes to change so much in the last year; they seem very healthy, but I’d like to see her again in no more than four months. If her eyes change as rapidly as they have over the last year, she may need to come in again sooner, and we may have to refer her to a specialist.” At this point he turned to talk to Chelsea. “Do you have any questions?” It only took three days to get our glasses. Chelsea’s had been marked as “urgent” and Mum had persuaded them to do the same for mine, as she did not want to have to go in to collect the glasses on different days. Once I put my glasses on, I had to look right off in to the far distance to notice any difference at all. When we got home, Chelsea went straight off to her room, and a few minutes later, I went in to join her. I had taken the chance to look at the prescriptions Mum had been given, so I knew that my glasses were -0.50 in both eyes, where Chelsea had -4.50 in one eye and -4.25 in the other. “Happy?” I asked. “Yes, I can see really well now, and I don’t have to take them off when I come out of my room.” “They look very strong. Can I try them?” “Only if I can try yours.” As we swapped glasses, I noticed that the edges of Chelsea’s glasses were just a little bit thicker than the frame she had chosen, and when I put them on, the room dissolved into the same sort of blur I had experienced when I had tried Mum’s reading glasses. I was trying to work out how to be nice about how bad my little sister’s eyes had become, but she spoke first. “These are so weak, you hardly even need them. They don’t make any difference at all.” “Well yours are so strong I can’t see anything with them. They’re probably stronger than Mum’s.” “I’m used to Mum’s glasses, and they do feel a bit stronger, but I can see so well with them. I’ve tried both pairs and there are things I can see clearly with my glasses which are just a bit less clear with Mum’s.” “You’ll soon need glasses which are stronger than the ones Mum wears every day.” My throw-away comment proved to be more accurate than I had intended. Chelsea needed to get stronger glasses four months later, and again four months after that. When it was time for my annual check, Mum booked herself an appointment as well, and we all ended up getting new glasses. A quick glance at the prescription sheets showed me that I was now at -0.75, Mum was -5.50 and -5.25 with a +1.75 add and Chelsea needed -6.25 in both eyes. The optician did comment that Chelsea now qualified as a high myope, but was happy enough to allow her to wait six months before her next appointment, as there did not appear to be any other problems except that her glasses were very strong for a child of her age. By the time Chelsea joined me in secondary school, the fronts of her lenses were totally flat, and when my friends asked me which of the year 7 girls was my sister, all I had to say was that she was the one with the glasses, and they knew exactly who I meant. I often wonder what would have happened if Mum had never said that she needed a second pair of glasses to help her with her reading, or if I had borrowed them instead of Chelsea. Would I now be the one with the minus nine and a bit prescription, new glasses every six months, and unable to see a thing without them? Besides, at what prescription do part-time reading glasses become full-time seeing glasses?
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