"Get up!"
Someone is prying my ribs apart with a stick.
"Mo-ommm!"
I roll over and open my eyes a slit. A pink Sailor Moon T-shirt floats above my head. Twelve-year-old Belinda kneels beside me, jabbing my ribs with one finger. There are dark rings under her eyes.
"I'm sick," I groan, rolling away from her, pulling the covers over my head. I was never cut out to be a single parent.
Belinda puts her hand on my forehead. "You are not," she says matter-of-factly. I feel the covers being wrenched off. I squint. Belinda is sitting cross-legged, arms folded across her chest. "You promised."
"Ugh..."
"It's ten o'clock and you promised!"
"I did?"
We both glance at the glass on the night table, half-full of scotch and ice that melted around 4 a.m. Condensation has formed a puddle below the photograph of Collin. Collin with his bright baby eyes and thick curly hair; Collin before.
"Remember?" Belinda asks. She picks up the picture of her baby brother and studies it. "Remember?"
She knows full well that I don't. I feel a flush rising on my cheeks....
Hope you've enjoyed this excerpt from Roads Unravelling published by Sumach Press.
