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September 2 Tuesday

Dad was supposed to be home all week, but he received an emergency call this morning and was gone before lunch.

At 2:00, the office called me to the front desk and said Jeremy was on the phone and didn�t sound good. When I gave Mrs. Jones a funny look, she explained that he wasn�t feeling well earlier and mom had okayed him to ride his bike home. I hesitantly answered the phone �Hello?�

Jeremy was in tears and could barely speak. My heart was racing. All I could think was that there had been a plane crash and dad was dead.

�It�s mom.� Jeremy squeaked.

My heart stopped. Had she ventured out of the house and been in a car wreck? Was she sick?

�She�s been cleaning since I got home, and I think she�s actually been cleaning since Dad left this morning.� He whispered.

I tried to sound normal, but a cold sweat had broken out all over my body. I assured Jeremy that Mom would be ok and she would quit when she got tired.

Now Mrs. Jones gave me the funny look but I turned my back on her.

�Can you please come home,� Jeremy pleaded. �I don�t know what to do.�

�Okay,� I answered and hung up the phone.

When I turned around, Mrs. Jones ruffled some papers on her desk, but I knew she had been listening. We don�t go to a very big school and I had a feeling everyone would know about my conversation by the end of the day.

I stammered that my mom was sick and Jeremy needed me to go home to help take care of her. Mrs. Jones nodded and gave me a pass.

I ran to my classroom, but stopped in when I got to the door, walked in calmly, collected my stuff and left. As soon as I was outside, I started running again.

The five-minute drive home took forever, and anxiety filled my stomach. When I got home though, it was all I could do to make myself go inside. Anger burned through my veins and all I could think was, �This isn�t fair.�

Why was I left do deal with this? Why couldn�t she wig out in front of Dad, so he could help her?

I felt like I sat in my car for an hour, but it must have only been a couple of seconds, because Jeremy popped out the door, ran to the car and practically drug me into the house.

When we got to the bathroom, Mom was hunched over on her hands and knees scrubbing. The barely dirty water was tinged pink and the floor had pink swirls. She kept muttering, �I can�t get it clean. I need to get it clean.�

�Mom?� I asked tentatively.

She stopped, rearranged her face, plastering a big smile where the frown had been.

�Hi!� She said a little too brightly.

�Mom, you need to stop. You�re bleeding.�

She glanced around, �I�m almost done here. Why don�t you go start dinner?�

I looked at Jeremy and would have laughed if tears weren�t so close to the surface. He looked horrified. His eyes were huge, his mouth was hanging and his face was as white as a sheet.

�Mom, we�ve got to go to the bookstore for school, but I�ll pick something up on the way home for dinner.� I had to get out of the house. She barely looked at me.

Jeremy hissed, �We can�t leave her here!�

�Yes, we can.� I answered firmly.

�We have to call dad,� he shot back as I pulled him to the door.

�What�s he going to do,� I replied sarcastically. �He�s in Denver.�

I crammed Jeremy in the car and we went to the park. We sat in silence for about an hour before he finally spoke.

�What are we going to do?� He asked.

�It�s only bad when Dad leaves. I�ll talk to him when he gets home and maybe convince him to stay home a while. If she goes a couple of weeks without cleaning, maybe she will forget this obsession with it.� I didn�t think it would work, but I had to say something.

Jeremy looked relieved.

By the time we went home, Mom had put away the bleach and was waiting on dinner. Her hands clad in the tiny white gloves.

I�m exhausted and Dad won�t be back for three more days. I�m scared, though, that when I close my eyes, instead of seeing black, pink swirls will suffocate me.



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