Page 27 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

“But it was just a routine checkup,” I pointed out.

The news was…gut wrenching.

“I know,” she said softly. “I have made an appointment for you with Dr. Castilian. He’ll be able to meet with you tomorrow morning at eight.”

After grabbing the details from her on when and where to meet up, I hung up the phone, then walked woodenly to the oven to turn it off.

I then gathered my paperback and headed out to the front porch to read.

Just like every other night since our final child had moved out to spread their wings in the real world, I found myself with nothing to do.

Like always, I took my seat and opened my paperback to the last page I read.

I had to smile when I read the word “cock” on the page.

Dixie liked to call this my ‘smut time.’

I tended to agree with him.

Today, though, I couldn’t focus on a single word I was reading.

I got up and went to find the Post-it Notes.

I started writing the moment that I got a pen.

One for the bathroom:

We use Charmin toilet paper. Not any other kind, because it’s the one that doesn’t make you break out.

Another one in the pantry:

Remember, if you want to make a pie, it takes two cans of filling to one pie shell. The recipe for the pie shell is in my recipe book.

Another one by our checkbook. Well, more than one.

I had to write four.

I explained the bill paying process, what he needed to pay and when, and how much we owed on each thing as of right now.

The next Post-it was a list of numbers. The trash people we used. The water company. The car note company.

I did this over and over again until I got to the one on the nightstand.

Don’t forget to take your medicine before bed. You know you’ll sleep like crap if you don’t. Love you always.

I had to stop because I ran out of Post-it Notes.

It was a good thing I did, though, because when I passed the mirror in the hallway, my gaze snagged on the mirror hanging there and I saw my reflection.

I made a beeline for the bathroom and started to clean off my face, but it did no good.

No amount of water or makeup was getting rid of the bloodshot eyes.

I was so lost in thought, looking at myself in the mirror, that I didn’t hear him come in.

I cursed myself for not meeting him outside like I usually did.

There’d only been a few instances when I wasn’t here when he got home. Each time it was because I’d been out of town.

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