Ninety-two

The bed dips with the new weight, Ma's subtle fragrance announces her presence before she coughs. I turn my face to the wall, pretending to be fast asleep. It is only a matter of time until she figures out my little lie and I don't want to view her disappointment.

"Are you done?" she asks, referring to the makeover I started in my room. It remained unchanged since I married but the need to keep busy led me to repaint. I can’t be idle.

My eyes squeeze shut as her fingers weave into my scalp, I reply, "Not yet." Half of the bathroom wall is coated in paint, I needed a short break. "But I should be done today." 

I have all day, night too. The work keeps me sane. Away from Ma and her supposedly harmless questions. Away from thoughts of him. What is he doing now? He should be behind his desk, eyes narrowed at the figures on his laptop screen. My face sinks into the pillow, does he miss me too? Not a chance, he is with that bimbo dis