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The Perfect Wife

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Mom? I blinked, and then I blinked again. I kept thinking the woman standing in front of me was going to be gone when I opened my eyes again.

My feet wouldn’t move. Neither would my legs. It seemed my limbs weren’t responding to the signals my brain was sending them. My hand was still on the doorjamb, my feet rooted to the spot right in the entrance of my father’s room.

I hadn’t seen this woman since I was a child, but she was smiling at me with her arms extended a little, like she either wanted to squeeze my cheeks or was waiting for a hug. Neither of those things was going to happen.

Over my dead fucking body was I letting this woman touch me. She left us when I was so young I barely had any memories of her. I could count the ones I did have out on my fingers. We hadn’t seen or heard from her since, which begged the question.

“What are you doing here?”

The hopeful smile on her face fell. Her hands dropped limply to her sides, then she started toying with her slender fingers. “
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