Kimberly's eyes crawled from left to right, as if the slower she scanned her surroundings the better they would look. She sat at the kitchen table, her hands barely touching the coffee cup between her fingers. She looked beyond the skinny, wooden posts that rose from the half wall to the ceiling, separating the kitchen from the family room on the other side. The simple, unassuming furniture and wall coverings—intended to reveal the personality of the condo's owner—now simply looked extraordinarily plain to Kimberly.
Perhaps it DID reveal too much about me, she thought.
She took a sip of coffee and gently let the cup settle on the table. She didn't want to make too much noise, knowing that her mother was asleep down the hall in the extra bedroom. Surely the woman who decorated Kimberly's childhood home like a professional was saddened by her daughter's lack of interior design talent. But wasn't that true about everything Kimberly had done?
Her grades were never good enough. The college she attended wasn't good enough. The job she got wasn't good enough. And the husband she didn't even have yet wasn't going to be good enough.
Kimberly dreaded her mother's visits. Both women were lonely, but the time they spent together was not enough to cure their common ills. Each time her mother came...and went...Kimberly felt more detached from life; more alone.
There was also the deep-rooted jealousy. Kimberly watched her mother, now forty four, turn prettier with each passing year. Instead of feeling hopeful that she, too, might improve with age, Kimberly resented the perfect hair, skin and body her mother possessed. She was shocked, actually, that her mother had never dated another man after her father's accidental death three years ago. Kimberly assumed men of all ages were stumbling over each other to get at her.
And now Kimberly was attempting to survive another visit.
###
Laura pulled up the covers and stared wide-eyed at the bedroom door. A faint light snuck in between the bottom of the door and the carpet. It had not changed in the past hour. No shadow of Kimberly walking past. No dimming from lights being turned off.
There were no sounds except for the occasional car passing outside. If a TV was on, she couldn't hear it. If Kimberly was up, she wasn't moving about.
Why is she so sad, Laura asked herself? It was the same question she had every time she saw her daughter. How could a beautiful twenty three year old girl, just out of college and already working as a reporter at a big city TV station, be so sad?
Laura seldom pondered the question at length because she felt guilty trying to get inside the head of someone half her age when she couldn't even figure out her own feelings. It was three years since Kevin's accident and she still wasn't 'normal'. She still didn't have a reason to live.
Laura yearned for Kimberly's affection again, like when she was young. But neither of them was young any more. They had to grow up quickly in the years after the accident. Laura always felt Kimberly was doing a better job of it than herself. Nothing seemed to work like it used to for Laura.
Finally, she threw back the covers and slid out of bed. Dressed in a nightshirt that hung halfway to her knees, Laura quietly stepped to the bedroom door and opened it. She looked down the hallway towards the kitchen before nearly tiptoeing her way ahead.
Laura saw Kimberly sitting at the table with her back towards her. She was nearly upon her daughter before Kimberly jerked her head around in surprise.
"It's just me," Laura said.
"I thought you were asleep," Kimberly said once she caught her breath.
Laura put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Not yet. I'm not good at sleeping in another bed."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Laura said, massaging Kimberly's slender shoulders. "Aren't you going to bed?"
"Not yet."
"What's wrong?"
Laura shrugged. "Nothing's wrong."
"You're a lousy liar. Always have been," Laura said.
Kimberly smiled but didn't respond.
"Do you miss your Dad?" Laura asked.
"Of course. Don't you?" Kimberly said.
"A lot. I can't seem to get back into a routine. After all this time."
Kimberly nodded. "That's how I feel. Nothing's like it used to be."
Laura felt the material of Kimberly's bathrobe crumpling up inside her hands as she continued to rub her shoulders. Laura looked down past the shiny blonde hair of her young daughter and realized that the robe was being pulled open by her ministrations. The tops of Kimberly's full breasts were exposed and the cleavage between them more than evident. If Laura could take pride in anything, it was the passing down of full breasts to her child.
But she already knew that. She'd seen Kimberly on TV, reporting from a crime scene or another plant shut down, wearing a stylish suit that showed off her many attributes. Kimberly had told her about the creepy e-mails she received from guys having less interest in her journalistic skills than her bra size.
The protective mother in Laura surfaced once again.
"Do you have any new friends? Maybe you need to get out more—spend less time thinking about work," Laura suggested. As she spoke, she walked over to an empty chair at the table and sat down.
"Yeah, some. Mostly girls," Kimberly said before hesitating. "I don't trust most guys."
"Don't be tempted into talking to any of the jerks that send you messages, no matter how good they sound."
Kimberly laughed quietly. "Don't worry."
"Have they talked at all about promoting you to an anchor's slot, maybe on the weekend?" Laura asked with a touch on increased interest.
Kimberly silently resented the fact her mother would assume her next job would be a dead-end assignment like the dreaded weekend anchor. "Not yet. I can do better anyway."
Laura easily detected the tone of her daughter's voice. Actually, she was pleased to know Kimberly was thinking of bigger and better things. "Would you relocate if you had to?"
"Of course. In this business, you better be ready for that."
