Under the Dusty Moon by Suzanne Sutherland

down, and I could barely get myself out of bed.
    â€œThe beast stirs,” Mom said, coming in with a mug of coffee and putting it down by my bed. “Thought you could use some caffeine.”
    I picked it up and took a small sip. “This stuff tastes like paint thinner.”
    â€œOh, so you’ve been drinking that, too?” she said. “We really have a lot to talk about.”
    â€œWould you grab my T3s from the bathroom?” I asked, putting on my most pathetic face. “Please?”
    â€œOne,” she said, offering up a cautionary finger and wagging it in the air. “I’m getting you one pill.”
    â€œThanks, Mom,” I said, taking another sip of coffee and grimacing.
    She came back to my room with the pill and a glass of water in her hands, and I swallowed it gratefully before laying back down on my bed. Mom sat next to me and ran her fingers through my hair. “So,” she said.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œDo you want to start, hon?”
    â€œI told you I was sorry about last night,” I said, brushing her hand away from my head.
    â€œI’m not so sure you did,” she said.
    â€œWell I meant to.”
    â€œSo …?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œGo ahead.” She pushed my nose like it was an apology button.
    â€œI’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I drank your wine.”
    â€œAnd the pills?” she asked.
    â€œMom, I need those pills. My arm hurts so bad.”
    â€œI know you think you need them,” she said, “just take it easy, all right? And don’t ever mix like that again. You could have killed yourself.”
    â€œI thought you were the one who was going to kill me.”
    â€œI still might,” she said, “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
    â€œHello, 911?”
    â€œHar har. So. Now that we have that settled …”
    â€œThat’s settled?” I asked. “Wow. I got off easy.”
    â€œYou have no idea.”
    â€œSome. So, are we done here? My head seriously hurts.” I stooped to take another sip of coffee and hoped that the Tylenol would kick in soon.
    â€œSurprise, surprise,” she said. “But before I leave you to wallow in your hangover, I thought maybe we could talk a little bit about the tour.”
    â€œWhat’s there to talk about?” I asked.
    â€œWell, maybe I’m reaching here, but I’m going to go ahead and use my stunning psychic abilities to guess that maybe there’s something about the tour that’s bugging you.”
    â€œWell, yeah,” I said. “It sucks that you’re gonna be gone for so long, but I know it’s important to you, so whatever. It doesn’t matter. Go.”
    â€œIt won’t be that long, sweets,” Mom said. “You’ll barely even notice I’m not here. We can video-chat all the time!”
    â€œYeah, uh-huh ,” I said. “I know.”
    â€œIs this about our birthdays?”
    â€œCome on,” I said, “I’m not some dorky six-year -old. I can handle us not being together for our birthdays.”
    â€œSo what then?” she asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean what ?”
    â€œWhy is this bothering you so much?”
    Mercifully, the Tylenol was starting to kick in, and I could feel my whole body start to relax. My tongue loosened, slip-and -sliding around in my mouth, and I heard myself say, “Because you didn’t even ask me to come with you.”
    Immediately embarrassed at how childish I sounded, I curled up onto my side, facing the wall. But Mom lay down on her side next to me and hugged me close with one arm around me, like we were spoons in a drawer. “I wish you could,” she said quietly into my ear. “I really do. But it’s almost two thousand dollars to fly to Tokyo and back again, and we just don’t have that kind of money right now.”
    â€œOh,” I said, mad at myself for not having considered the cost of