The Perfect Mother

by Aimee Molloy

You have a tendency to ruminate on things, he’d say. But, interestingly, never the positive aspects of your life.

Colette feels the full weight of her exhaustion, the room shifting around her. She closes her eyes, imagining lying down next to Charlie, curling against him, and telling him everything. About what happened on the subway, about losing the job. About the terror she’s been feeling, the desperate need to know that Midas is still alive. She wants to tell him about her guilt over being away from the baby, about how hard she’s been working trying to hold it all together. She wants to wake him up and tell him she can’t wait three months until Poppy’s next appointment to start worrying. She’s already terrified. But she’s too afraid. Afraid that if she begins, she’ll start to cry and never stop, that she’ll be swallowed by her sadness, her fear, how overwhelmed she is, how certain she is that everything she has is slipping away.