Sex?

Chapter 97

I look back at my mother who has followed her gaze towards me, the sky's light illuminating her dark hair and making her look paler than usual.

I look away.

What am I supposed to say?

I haven't talked to her in days, weeks?

Months?

I don't even think, I turn away, my back facing her now.

My gaze is sticking to the floor, my mind in a whirl yet at a blank. I wouldn't have realized my arms were crossed if I hadn't found my eyes on the mirror wall.

Oh hi! Nina.

My face reeks of obvious perplexion. It doesn't know what to do.

I don't know what to do.

My eyes are asking yet stuck inside my head, afraid to come out and speak.

The song's past slow beat is more uplifting, thankfully it's low, but it empowers me for a big enough second to cause me to turn back to her.

She seems to have continued her work but stops as soon as I look at her, she's staring at me before I do.

I look at the bed, then at her.

I can see her lips moving, parting, itching to speak.

I look back at the bed.

I speak first.

"Are you making my bed?"

She looks back down as if now realizing what she's doing.

"Uhm," her voice finds its way through her throat.

She looks back up at me, her eyes piercing blue alertness.

Is she okay?

I respond with the same gray pierce, but they're filled with confusion. And I realize even with a bit of protection. My steps are inching away from the bed and from her. I uncross my arms in an attempt to be more approachable, but they stand pin-straight and tight beside me.

"Um," she looks back down at the flower-patterned sheet, blue and pink, yellow and green, brown and blue.

She clears her throat, patting the bed before standing straight. "Yes, I'm making your bed," she claims, more confident, but she seems worried.

I'm usually angry and defensive and I can see why she's taking it slow and cautious. But, instead of responding, I sit down. A sigh releases as the bed bounces underneath me. My back is to her but the initial tension has cleared.

"Thank you," I express, my chest heaving in response, maybe my body feels a bit tense after all.

I hear her release a sigh too.

"You're welcome," she manages, her voice shaky.

There's silence, except she seems to be shuffling in place.

Until I ask, "How long have you been doing this?"

"Um, well, for a while, I guess. I usually, um, well, do it after you leave. But, I see, you're still here."

"Hm," I respond, my voice rough.

"You were bound to catch me eventually," she adds, chuckling it out to break the air between us, coping with the unease.

I feel sorry for her, but I feel mostly sorry for me.

"Where have you been?" I snap, facing towards her in my seat.

She seems taken aback, she even steps back. She adjusts though, looking away, taking a deep breath.

"Well, I've been working," she looks back at me with hopeful eyes. "Honey,"