The most popular guy in school asked me to prom, and I ignored every warning sign because my mother wanted me to have one beautiful night. Then I stepped into the gym, saw the prom queen on his arm, and knew I had walked straight into a trap. But I had one thing they never saw coming.
The laundromat hummed on Saturday mornings, a steady mechanical heartbeat under the buzz of the overhead lights.
The smell of detergent had soaked into my hair, my jeans, my skin, and I had stopped trying to wash it out years ago.
I folded a stranger’s shirt and listened to Aunt Rosa count quarters at the front counter.
“Ivy, baby, you sure you don’t want to take a break?” she called.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Mom’s shift used to be longer than this.”
Aunt Rosa’s mouth tightened the way it always did when I mentioned Mom.
Mom had mopped floors at the hotel downtown for fifteen years. Fifteen years of aching knees and night buses so I could have new notebooks every August.
Three months ago her cough turned into something worse, and the hospital became her second home.
After my part-time shift after school, I walked the six blocks to see her. She was thinner than last week, but she smiled when I pushed open the door.
“There’s my girl,” she whispered.
I sat on the edge of her bed and held her hand, careful of the IV.
“Prom’s in two weeks,” she said softly. “Rosa told me.”
“I’m not going,” I weakly protested.
“I don’t have a dress, Mom,” I said. “I don’t have a date, and I don’t want to give Kenzie another reason to laugh.”
The name slipped out before I could stop it.
Mom’s eyes searched mine. “She still picks on you?”
“She breathes,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“That’s enough.”
A memory bled in without permission. Sixth grade cafeteria. Kenzie holding up a juice box, announcing to the table that my mom had mopped up someone’s puke near the hotel lobby one morning.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
