Not all the guilt we feel is ours. Often enough, we feel guilt because it gives us some sense of control over something that seems terrible to us. Then, if can only atone in some way....
She noticed the sticky note on the mirror, as she always did, and though the words were not from her religion, it was still comforting to know the woman who had opened her home to her was god-fearing.
You're not gone you're still here
With me all the time
You're still here
When I close my eyes
I still see you I still feel you
Dianne Warren, Still Here
She could still feel the jealousy, curling around her body, a restless snake, making her nauseous, prickling down her spine. Stifling a sob set another tight wave of pain even through her aching body.
He had been so eager to show off that afternoon, taking his bike over to his lover’s place. He could feel his face grow hot with the shame of it, his chest begin to ache.
She ducked her head down. He did not need her crying, he needed her hope, her can-do, he needed the mamá who had cheered at all his home games, who had thrown him a giant party when he graduated, who made over every new job.
There was a chorus of "dad! dad!" from inside, then the snick of the lock and the door yanked open. They threw themselves on him, knocking his phone down as he patted their heads,
But she couldn’t sleep. The bed spun. She felt woozy and nauseous. Too tired. Too wired. And all she could think about was the line of pain going up her neck and driving its spike into her head.
