Double Blind by Brandilyn Collins

Robot-like, I obeyed. She wheeled her bag into the apartment. I closed the door.
    We looked at each other some more. Any remaining energy I’d had drained out my feet.
    She straightened her back. “I came to take care of you. And clearly you need it.”
    Not from you.
    At my telling silence Mom’s mouth opened, then closed. She glanced past the living room. “As I remember, you have an extra bedroom.”
    She’d stayed with me when she came for Ryan’s funeral. “Yes. The computer’s in there.”
    She gave me a look.
    â€œAnd a bed, too, I mean.”
    A corner of her mouth lifted. “Good. I’ll just put my things in there. First on the right?”
    I nodded.
    I watched her go. When she returned I still stood there.
    She put her hands on her hips. “Looks to me like you should get off your feet.”
    No kidding. A heart attack about now wouldn’t surprise me. I headed for the couch.
    The minute I sat something clicked inside me. Why was I acting like this just because she’d shown up? I wasn’t the scared child I’d once been, trembling in my mother’s presence for fear of the next cutting remark. It was high time I got over that.
    My mother took a seat in Ryan’s armchair and looked me over. For a split second some emotion—reticence? fright?—flicked across her face.
    Or had I imagined that?
    â€œLisa, what happened to you?” Her voice softened. “Please don’t tell me you were attacked a second time.”
    There it was again, in her tone. My mother was actually afraid for me.
    It took a moment to gather myself. “Nothing like that.” I rubbed my palm over the couch cushion. “I . . . had a medical procedure, and I’m still recovering.”
    â€œWhat kind of—”
    Another knock at the door. Mom’s head swiveled toward it. “You expecting someone?”
    â€œSherry.”
    â€œOh.” A terse response that dripped with the memory of their last caustic exchange at Ryan’s funeral. “You should have told me she was coming.”
    That comment deserved no response.
    I walked to the door on wooden legs. Oh, man. My mother was enough, but with Sherry in the room? I opened the door with trepidation. “Hi, Sherry. Guess what? Mom’s here.”
    Sherry’s chin dipped. She gave me a look through the tops of her eyeballs.
    â€œDidn’t know she was coming.” My words turned tinny. “But hey, what perfect timing for the three of us to talk.”
    My mother turned in the chair, her back regal-straight, and gave my friend a cool nod. “Hello.”
    Sherry crossed the threshold, glancing from me to her. “Hello, Ms. Wegland.” She knew my mother hated being called that. Made her feel old.
    â€œAlice. Please.”
    I closed the door and ran home the deadbolt. Sherry and my mother eyed each other. Maybe I should just go to bed. Let them fight this thing out.
    â€œCome on.” I tugged at Sherry’s sleeve. “Sit down with us.”
    She followed me to the couch. I ended up on the side closest to my mother, sandwiched between them. Terrific.
    â€œMom just got here. After you called.” I shot Sherry a look— Please be civil .
    â€œI hopped on the first plane I could.” Mom sounded almost defensive. “After that threatening phone call about Lisa today, and her not telling me what was happening—”
    â€œThreatening phone call?” Sherry rounded her eyes at me.
    â€œIt wasn’t really. Well, yes it was.” I took a deep breath. Now I’d have to tell both of them everything. I didn’t have the strength.
    â€œI know it was, since I’m the one who heard it.” Mom’s tone edged. “Lisa, I expect—”
    â€œStop.” I raised my hand, palm out. Mom’s words cut off. I hung there, surprised at my own power. She’d actually listened . “Okay.” Now what to