When I was 10, I was the recipient of a cruel betrayal. I was a girl who was shy and didn't trust many others. I remember a new boy showed up that year.
For privacy, I'll call him Charlie. He was also 10 and so shy he barely ever spoke. The teacher was very hard on him, constantly yelling at Charlie to speak up when called on in class or to read book chapters out loud.
I took pity on him and befriended him. For a year or two, things were good. Then I learned he became a member of a local gang.
I didn't believe it until the betrayal happened. He hadn't gone to school that Friday, which concerned me. I was walking home from school with my mom and my younger brother.
At a stop sign on 7th Street, it happened. I took off my glasses to wipe a smudge when something hit me. My left eye felt like I was hit by a baseball.
I bent with a groan of pain, alerting my mother. She asked me to look at her. When I did, her face was in pure shock.
As my dad was at work and unreachable, we had a neighbor drive us to the hospital. There, I learned I'd been hit with a BB striking the side of my eye. The doctor told us had I'd been looking forward, it would have blinded me.
For 2 months at least, I had to endure endless treatments and had to wear an eye patch. I also endured the cruel comments from students making pirate jokes. The day before my eye was healed and I no longer needed the patch.
I learned who shot me. He confessed after seeing me with the patch. I was brought to the principal's office where I could see him before he was sent to juvenile hall.
When I saw him, I felt like exploding. Sitting on a chair, handcuffed, was Charlie. He was staring at his feet, face ash shamed.
In a choke voice, I managed. Charlie, why? I was your friend.
You You hurt me bad, you know. He could only shrug. I asked him to look at me.
When he did, I lifted my eye patch. I knew it wasn't a pretty sight. I leaned in nose to nose.
Get a good look at me, Charlie. I want you to see what you did. And I want you to know I'll never forget this.
You did this. I hope you always will remember what you did. He was hauled off.
Never apologized. I recovered completely with only a tiny defect in my left eye's vision. I didn't see Charlie again until almost 18 years later.
My brother and I were visiting our old town of Downey after moving almost 10 years earlier. We visited a nearby mall that was a favorite of ours as kids. In the food court, I waited while my brother used the bathroom.
Glancing at a Hawaiian barbecue shop, I paused. A young man with his back to me looked strangely familiar. When he turned to hand a customer a food tray, there was no doubt it was Charlie.
He was shaggy looking, looked like he had a rough life. When I saw his left eye, I gasped. He was wearing an eye patch.
I approached him, called his name. Charlie. He practically jumped, saw me, and sadly smiled.
Hia Jane. I asked him, pointing to my own eye, what happened, Charlie? He told me after he'd left Juvenile Hall at 17.
He'd gone back to his old house on 7th Street to rebuild his life. He was living with his mother as his father had died while he was in juvenile hall. In his backyard, he was shooting cans with his old BB gun when it happened.
A pellet had ricocheted off a tree, hitting his left eye dead center. in the hospital. He'd been told the damage was too great.
He'd lost the eye. I didn't believe him until for a second he lifted the eye patch. I saw, to my horror, an empty socket.
With a sigh, he whispered, "I'm so very sorry, Jane. You weren't really my target. " I got a lesson in karma.
Please forgive me. I reached out and hugged him, whispering, "I do forgive you, Charlie. " I left with my brother shortly afterwards.
I caught up with Charlie and he did better later. In time, he started working in an office and also married and had children. I was glad he turned his life around, but he had to learn a lesson or two to gain what he needed.
