When the 11 p.m. news ended, Evelyn climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She held the handrail that her son, Robert, had installed at his wife’s insistence ten years ago when death stole her companion of nearly 60 years.
She liberally applied moisturizer, guided by her blurry reflection. Her eyes used to be a clear ice blue, but now they were dull – just like her life. Dragging her nightgown over her head bothered her shoulder and left her breathing fast and shallow. Evelyn leaned on the vanity with both hands until her breathing slowed.
Then with a sigh, she trudged to bed. Lying in the dark, she thought about the next day. Another week with with nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to look forward to. Not long ago, she did things with friends at least three times a week.
But that was before her son took her car keys. He thought two accidents in two months were two too many. But nobody was hurt in the simple fender benders. It wasn’t her fault that someone parked where they shouldn’t have.
Maybe her daughter-in-law could take her out tomorrow for lunch and shopping. Shirley had a job, but why couldn’t she take the day off? Evelyn wanted to hear about what the grandchildren were doing these days. They hardly ever visited since becoming teenagers. With a plan to phone Shirley first thing in the morning, Evelyn drifted to sleep.Read More