Holly - Thursday, December 8, 2016
Sunday had been a sob-fest. Monday was a shit show. So, when Nanette had called Tuesday afternoon, asking if Holly could play nurse since she’d gotten a nasty stomach flu and Charles was away, she had jumped at the chance.
“Thank you.” In the black jumpsuit, her mother appeared to be part of the leather recliner. “Vodka this time, please.” Her face was softer without her makeup.
“Probably not great with your cold medicine.”
A thundering collapse startled Holly. House flippers were doing demo on the massive flat-screen TV, which she usually enjoyed. But instead of satisfaction with every wall they busted through, she got queasy and mournful, so she hurried out of the room.
“Holly, dear,” Nanette called after her.
“Yeah?” As she arrived back on the shag rug, its black-and-white cowhide pattern made her wonder if her mom missed her dad sometimes.
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