Susan by Holly Day
I stood and watched you sleeping, had stood there watching for nearly five minutes in the shadow of the hallway for nearly five minutes of circus time before I dropped your purse on the chair, quiet as death and slipped quietly out the door, defying detection. Your bare back was open to anyone and everyone coming in, bareback riders slip in through the cracks of hotel security all the time, defying even little girl sanctity. Yesterday, I dreamt of your death how I would deal with it, wondering if you survived the circus of the imaginary midnight ambushes that haunted my mind, the big sister duties I’d imposed upon myself stuck in my head, driving me crazy--Why didn’t you call this morning? I had this idea of how this would all work out, I had it all planned out, but I can’t play everyone’s mother, not in this life. I’m stretched too thin as it is. The alarm clock rings in my head before true circus time, and I can’t sleep for worry...