OCR Text |
Show Woodworth/223 Turning, she sees the beginnings of dawn over the field. Morning looks so fresh, but doesn't feel that way. More like an anemic repetition of the day before, worn over and over. Dawn reminds her of Kathy Grayson. "Gee, Mom, I really love you," she hears her say. She sees the image of herself, holding her arms up to her daughter. The look of horror on Marty's face. Is she really that disgusting? That her own daughter finds her horrifying? The image rasps at her, super-imposes itself on the creamy colors of morning. What grates is that she didn't learn the first time. There she is again, caught with her arms up, while they make a fool of her, laugh at her love, and look in horror at what she has tried to do for them. Nothing on television yet. The drink burns when she sips it, so she tips it back and swallows it all in one, long, searing gulp. She only wants to sleep. Restless, she wanders around the room, looking for a book, a magazine, something to occupy her attention until she is sleepy. Look at this room. Does anybody live here? What kind of people live here? Megan's summer jacket: a tan cotton. Funny, she used to buy them clothes. Would she have ever picked a jacked like that for 'Tegan? It looks dike a safari jacket. Probably not. Probably they never eiyen liked the clothes she picked and just put up with them because they were free after all, and could always be returned later for credit. Then they could pick out what they wanted. They never allowed her to give them things. She tries to put the jacket on, pushing the glass through the sleeved.It turns upside\iown somewhere in the sleeve and |