Mother of Pearl by Kellie Coates Gilbert

Author:Kellie Coates Gilbert [Gilbert, Kellie Coates]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kellie Gilbert LLC/Amnos Media Group

Steve checks the lock, and together we head upstairs. I can’t stop myself from opening the kids’ doors on the way to our room. Why, I don’t know. My head knows both rooms are empty.

Steve is propped on his pillow, reading over the lease one more time while I get ready for bed. At my vanity, I rub cream across my décolletage, making wide sweeps up toward my neck like the label on the jar recommends.

Never one to spend much on vanity items, I succumbed to the QVC host when she promised the elixir would shave years off my appearance, leaving me feeling younger.

Who couldn’t use a little of that?

Massaging the remaining creme into my hands, I lean closer to the mirror and examine my reflection. Several new wrinkles and under-eye circles the color of cigarette ash stare back, mocking me. The image eerily resembles my mother’s features—something I’m not prepared to see.

I close my eyes, envisioning the way I used to look—how I used to feel. Somehow, I’ve lost the girl in me, let spontaneity slip through my fingers. That realization takes hold of me like a cold hand around my heart.

I’ve morphed into a woman mired in grief, and every minute of despair I’ve felt these last months shows on my face. I used to be pretty. I used to be—a little daring. There was a time I’d have ridden a Harley.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

When I buried Pearl, I guess a part of me stayed in that casket with her. Somehow I’ve got to find a way to resurrect the woman I once was. I’m tired of feeling this broken.

Without fully comprehending the need, I stand and turn out the light.

Finding Steve dozing, the lamp still on, I pull the paper from his hand and toss it on the floor.

His eyes open in surprise.

My mouth presses against his with an insistence that surprises even me. I take in the smell of him, a man’s smell. His chest hair brushes against my bare skin and a slight shudder trickles down my stomach.

I reach beneath the covers, letting my hand wander. Steve’s breath catches. He lifts, but I slam his body back against the bed, pressing myself against him with an urgency I’ve not felt for some time.

Minutes later, we lay staring at the ceiling, drenched in sweat.

“What was that?” Steve’s face breaks into a puzzled grin.

I wait for my breathing to slow. A tear forms and trickles down the side of my face as I take a deep breath and search for the words to explain.

“I just didn’t feel like being myself tonight.”

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