« There’s my girl, » she whispered. Her hand, light as paper, found mine on the blanket.
« Brenda says you’ve been keeping secrets from her. »
« A woman my age is allowed a few, » Mom said, and her eyes crinkled like they used to before everything got hard.
I bent and kissed her forehead. She smelled like lavender soap and the lotion I rubbed into her hands every night.
I was already glancing at the clock. Eight twelve. The bus came at eight twenty.
« I love you, » I said.
« More than you know, Margaret. »
I was already glancing at the clock. Eight twelve. The bus came at eight twenty.
« I’ll be late tonight, » I called, grabbing my bag. « Big meeting. »
« Margaret, » Brenda said as I passed her in the kitchen. « She really has been different lately. Quieter. Watching the door. »
