The water was almost too hot, but Bri inched into the shower anyway. She was too preoccupied to find the perfect temperature on the touchy nozzle. Letting the water flow over her head and down her spine, Bri let her thoughts wander. Of course, they always wandered back to the same situation: her mother.
Bri’s fists clenched. Her disappointment was as thick as the swirling steam—disappointment in her mother for letting her down and in herself for wanting to believe her.
Her mother was trying, but it didn’t matter as long as she made these mistakes. The longer things were drawn out, the more she feared that Jess and Chloe would want to stay with their foster families and Kyle would stay with Nana, whom Bri didn’t have any desire to associate with.
One thing was certain: if her mom ruined their chances of getting back together as a family, Bri would never forgive her.
Stepping onto the mat outside the tub, she wrapped a towel around herself and stared down her foggy reflection in the mirror. Her fingertips trailed over her prominent jawbone, another resemblance to her mom, and as she brushed her hair, her mom’s image persisted in the front of her mind.
Her eyes stung. It hurt to think about her, but she couldn’t stop.
Blinded by a steady flow of tears, Bri desperately dug to the bottom of the vanity drawer for a pair of scissors. She glared at her reflection. Her appreciation of the similarities to her mother had left as quickly as it had come. She no longer wanted to be associated with the woman who had given birth to her.
Taking half of her hair to one side, Bri snipped it clumsily up to her shoulders, gripping the thick, wiry ends as they detached. She repeated the process on the other side and threw the scissors into the sink. She stared at the eight inches of hair in front of her before hurling it into the small garbage can nearby.
I’m not like you, Mom. I never will be.
Without warning, her anger took control. Punching the wall, she let out a sharp cry. She hunched over the sink, bracing her weight on her elbows as her shoulders shook uncontrollably.
Copyright © 2018 by Saty M. Cornelius
All rights reserved.