Later that day i went back to Mama and Daddy's house. Mama had not been at the hospital, which i found odd. If Daddy had a favorite it was Vanessa, and if Mama had one it was Marcie. How could Marcie be so sick and Mama not be there? i found out why.
She always kept her hair done and wore her makeup just so. Her nails were always painted to match her clothing and she was a striking woman. But, on this day my mother sat listless at the kitchen table with her hair matted to head in unbrushed snarls. Her face was a mask of agony and no color graced her cheeks or lips. She looked like a shell. When i spoke to her, she didn't respond. She was as locked away from me as Marcie.
