Mom is lying on her bed with a wet washcloth over her eyes when I get out of the shower.
“Mom,” I say softly, but she doesn’t reply. My mom is never sick, so her lying there so quiet looks weird and a little scary. Like finding Nana scary. “Mom?” I say louder.
“Oh, sorry, honey. I have a headache and thought I’d lie down for a minute. Must have dozed off. If you’re done in the bathroom, I’m going to take a shower. There’s a sandwich in the kitchen for you.”
Normally, I’d ask what kind she made but I’m still seeing Mom all quiet like Nana Belle in her chair, and I forget.
Riley Rose is on the couch, legs crossed, coloring in a book. My auntie is outside on the deck. Mom fixed me a turkey sandwich and cut it in four triangles, just the way I like it. I take the plate and sit down beside
