by Dave Ferraro
My Mother entered the room, and I reluctantly turned to face her. I was in a good mood. I didn’t particularly want to change that. But, she was here, and that meant she had a reason. My Mother never visited for a simple chat.
Her eyes flicked briefly to the window. If I hadn’t been watching, I would have missed it. She didn’t comment. She didn’t ask about the lone black feather sticking out from under Capote. She just gestured to the bed, and I took a seat.
She had the makeup in her hand, and I refused to wince when she set it none too gently to my eye.
“There,” she said, leaning back to examine her work.
I blinked a couple times to clear my vision and went to study myself in the mirror. My black eye was still visibly swollen, but at least the foundation she’d applied covered up some of the dark coloring. I stared at myself, almost ignoring the fact that I had become reasonably comfortable with this routine.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. It was all I ever said to her when this happened, and it occurred to me that it was strange to be thanking her for covering up an injury she had caused. Still, I had learned long ago to enjoy these moments with her. These moments when I could almost believe her when she said it was necessary for me to endure the physical pain she inflicted.
“Now go,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Or you’ll be late for school.” I nodded and grabbed my loaded backpack off its hook as I headed out the door.
“Hey, wait!” my little sister, Nelly, called from upstairs.
I was tempted to shut the door behind me and head off without her, but I knew that would only piss my Mother off. I suppose that’s why I was tempted. I felt good this morning; stronger. And, it occurred to me much later that this probably had something to do with the blackbird.
As it was, my Mother shot me a warning look as I stood in the open doorway and waited impatiently for Nelly. A few moments later, she came running down the stairs with her backpack in tow. I rolled my eyes as I took in her usual perfect and prim appearance. Her golden brown hair hung perfectly straight across her shoulders, and her makeup was light and tasteful. We were both very pretty, but most of the time I couldn’t help but feel mildly jealous of her. I had my reasons. Believe me.
She was wearing a baby blue button-down blouse and light colored jeans. I looked down at my wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. Mom always got her the good stuff. At least the pants fit me nicely.
“Well, don’t you look pretty,” I said. “Can we go now?”
This earned another glare from my Mother, which I pointedly ignored by pushing the hair that had fallen out of my sloppy ponytail out of my face.
Nelly just smiled genuinely and swept past me through the open door. It was childish, but I sighed and rolled my eyes again. Nelly certainly is the diplomatic one. Me? Not so much. Still, I felt bad for making fun of her this morning. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have to “prepare”- that’s what my Mother called it- like I did. And, truth be told, I was glad she didn’t get the same treatment from my Mother as I did. Nelly is more fragile than I am, and I wasn’t sure she could take it.
Just before I closed the door, my Mother called out to me. “Alexa-“
“I know, I know,” I said, cutting her off. “Don’t stop until we get there.”
Chapter Three: Blood Warrior