MIRROR
Squishing mouthwash around in my mouth, I study my pupils across from me in the mirror. I spit the Listerine out and lean into my likeness until the tip of my nose dissolves into its reflection. The mirror grants me access inward, allowing me to look through the center of my eyes. Inside, I hope to find her. I know she exists within me. How could she not? She was my portal into this world; I am bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh, and pain of her pain.
My eyes show no sign of life—hers or mine.
I close my eyes, and I hear the phone ring again.
…
“It’s time.”
The silent trembling that follows my little sister’s words sends the world into slow motion. I wish I didn’t answer the phone. I’m not ready to get on a plane, fly across the country, and say goodbye.
“OK. I’ll get a plane ticket.” This wasn’t another false alarm.
Behind Mama trailed a long line of near-death experiences. Each proof of Mama’s superhuman ability to outrun her circumstance: her gift from God. Mama’s escapes wore on her. Evading allowed Mama to live another day, but it didn’t keep her alive. And now, the coping pharmaceuticals Mama ingested daily for as long as I could remember were causing her organs to irreversibly shut down. Mama was no longer fit enough to run; her legs gave out on her. And Lisa’s call meant they finally stopped. Mama was dying.
“Billy…” my sister tried to speak.
I interrupted. “I know, Kiddo.”
I knew Lisa loved Mama. I knew she wasn’t ready. I knew she thought we needed to see a different doctor to get a second opinion. I knew my little sister was fracturing into a million pieces. She didn’t have to tell me.
…
I glance one more time into the mirror. I still don’t see Mama. Maybe if I run hard enough today, she’ll show herself.
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