Mission

My mother called for the hundredth time, and I finally answered. She asked if I was okay, if something was wrong. I feigned illness and said I was on the mend. “I’m happy to hear that,” she answered cheerfully. “I’m just in your neighborhood. Did I tell you that your dad and I are getting new curtains? Do you want to come along, check them out?” Mom didn’t wait for an answer before adding, “I’ll be there in fifteen, be ready.”

I tossed the comforter off of me and threw on some clothes, stumbled into the bathroom. I brushed the moss off my teeth, splashed water on my face, tried to freshen my appearance. In the mirror, I saw my sickness, sallowness. Hair in tangles, disordered. I had become so pale that the circles under my eyes were colored black purple. I didn’t understand why I had such dark circles; I’d done nothing but sleep for the past few days. I wrapped my hair in a bun and painted over the darkness under my eyes.