“Mom?” Emily’s voice snapped her back. “You spaced out. Are you okay?” Clara smiled quickly, too quickly. “Just tired, sweetheart. Long shift.” She reached across the table, squeezing Emily’s hand, memorizing the feel of it. Emily squeezed back, unfazed, and dove into another story about a friend’s new boyfriend.
Clara let her laugh, let herself laugh too, even while the fear gnawed beneath her ribs. Tonight, she promised herself, she would just be Emily’s mother at the dinner table. The day after, she could fall apart. Clara let her laugh, let herself laugh too, even while the fear gnawed beneath her ribs. Tonight, she promised herself, she would just be Emily’s mother at the dinner table.