The Hangover
“Mom?”
I open my eyes to a broken pink oil pastel on my wood floor. Cold and wet I adjust the weighted blankets on me and turn to Bea.
”Mom, I just got home, it’s 9a.m.”
We have a dermatologist appt in thirty minutes. My body doesn’t respond.
”Mom?”
“Okay.”
I was out at my friend Alex’s until 3am. We needed to hang and work and talk. Sometimes you get on a roll with someone creative and time means nothing until you have to wake up and take your child to the dermatologist.
My pajamas and sheets are cold, heavy and soaked. I peel them off, rinse in my shower, put on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black crew shirt and leave.