XLIX

“Mama!” I called from the kitchen, hopping off the stool at the counter before turning to grab the bowl that was far too big for me to manage with one hand. Even as a child I had been small, a diminutive scrawny creature one would hardly notice. I managed to carry the bowl as steadily as I could through the bright kitchen and into the back hallway to the door of my mother’s room. She had been sad lately, then would get angry, then would be sad again. I had tried to make her feel better but the more I tried the sadder or angrier she got. I thought that, maybe, if I made her breakfast she would smile.

She used to smile a lot, I thought as I balanced the bowl precariously while reaching for the door. She would sometimes hold me in her arms while we watched a movie and giggle at the antics on the screen. She would take my hand and lead me into the garden and play hide and seek with me through the manicured bushes or just sit beneath the apple trees and tell me stories about places I’d never imagined could exist. Places with tall buildings and people scurrying everywhere like bugs. I would giggle at the thought of people running around with lots of legs.

Amanda had installed a little flower holder in the middle of the door and I had picked carefully through the garden each week to bring flesh flowers to brighten her door. It never seemed to take long before they wilted and dried but even still they were pretty, especially the purple ones that grew near the wall at the back of the garden. I didn’t know what kind of flower they were; I just knew they had a sort of dignity to them even after wilting I found regal. I knocked on the door lightly, being careful to keep the bowl from tipping too far one way or the other. Rice porridge was harder to make than it looked, I thought, staring down at the lightly steaming bowl. It smelled delicious, though and I was sure it would make her smile.

Maybe she would even come out and dance again, I thought excitedly. I loved when she danced. She was so graceful and fluid, she looked like a princess. I could sit with my chin on my hands and watch her forever when she danced. It lit my entire being up with joy to watch her spin and leap in the studio with the sunlight filtering through the windows from the garden. Maybe she’s sleeping still, I thought with a frown. Normally mama was up very early but she had been more tired lately. It had been getting colder so maybe she was hiding under the blankets the way I liked to do in the early morning when it was chilly. Still! I had hot porridge I knew would warm her up. Undeterred I rebalanced the bowl and turned the knob.

“Mama!” I called, stepping into the darkened room. “I brought you…” I stopped, the bowl tipping over in my nerveless hands and falling to the floor with a crash.