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Final Visit

Hands shaking, Tonya pressed her neatly pulled back bun of hair. I must look terrible, she thought. She looked at her dismal reflection in the glass window of the door. The weight of exhaustion was heavy. The previous sleepless night had taken its toll. Tonya rubbed the dark circles under her light brown eyes. She raised her naturally arched eyebrows and licked her plump brown lips. Her cinnamon brown complexion was just like her mother's. Tonya fumbled in her handbag for the key to her mother's house. Her sister had given hers up long ago.

Her mother had always been difficult. Tonya shuddered. She remembered the time she got the courage to move out on her own.

"I think it's time for me to have my own place," Tonya had said, staring at her mother's back. Her mother had busily washed dishes. A cool mood had darkened the room despite the rays of cheerful sunshine that illuminated the kitchen.

"That's nice. I hope it's someplace decent." Her mother had slammed the cabinet shut. It rattled loudly.

"It is nice. You could help me pick out furniture," Tonya said.

"Yes, that would be fun." Her mother had turned her concentration to the counter top and wiped it with quick circular motions. She never looked at Tonya during the conversation. Tonya stood, teeth clenched, nauseated with guilt. Feeling that same nauseous sensation now, Tonya turned the lock with her key.

"Hello, Tonya." Her mother smiled. She looked down from the loft. Her smile faltered as she observed Tonya's appearance.

"Hi, Mother." Tonya tugged at her collar. She forced a smile.

"Well, you look nice," Tonya's mother said after a pause. She came down the stairs, her robe flowing behind her. Tonya gave her a quick hug. She could smell the soft fruity scent of her mother's perfume. "It's good to see you, Tonya."

"Good to see you too," Tonya said.

"Coffee?" Her mother asked. She walked toward the kitchen. Tonya's mother never actually made the coffee, but always offered it. Tonya prepared it.

The warm fragrance of vanilla flavored coffee filled the air. Tonya sat at the kitchen table, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her stomach lurched as if she were on a plane during take off. She suddenly regretted eating breakfast.

"Since you're now divorced and obviously Austin is so expensive to live on what you make, when will you be returning to San Antonio?" Tonya's mother asked.

"Actually, I'm not moving back here. I got a promotion that will take me to D.C.-Washington, D.C., that is," Tonya said. She crossed

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