I cannot fathom how this could happen! My mother had done everything she could to whisk her daughter out of this world.
I had a best friend named Ethel. Wed been inseparable for years, and she would often tell me how heavy her life felt, all because shed spent two decades living with her husband and her mother under the same roof.
Agnes was the very sort of woman who delighted in using other people, completely indifferent that the one she was exploiting was her own child. Nothing ever seemed to go right for her. Ethels grandmother was eightyfive, yet, oddly enough, she still managed to keep herself rather spry.
Agnes always believed her daughter owed her everything, that she owed her very existence. The reason, according to her, was that when Ethel became pregnant, her husband walked out and found another woman. All the anger she could not contain spilled onto Ethel, who bore an uncanny likeness to the father.
Ethel was never the daughter Agnes lovedshe was a servant, a cleaner, a slave, but never a daughter. Ethel juggled two jobs, and when she trudged home after a shift she would mop the floor and cook a meal. Her mother refused to lift a finger at home and, on occasion, would sulk simply because Ethel had cooked something she didnt like. Poor thing, Ethel eventually quit one of her jobs and drove to the far side of town to tend to her mothers whims.
It was Ethels birthday that day. We gathered around the table shed set with a splendid spread, but I saw a deep sorrow cloud her face. She whispered that a scandal had erupted between her and her mother. In any case, we all slipped away early.
The following morning I discovered Ethel had vanished. It turned out that after we left, Agnes had ignited another uproar. Ethels heart gave way, and no one called an ambulance. She slipped away in the night, the way a mother might steer the darkness that follows her own.
