The Unburied Ghost

Delia

Mother came to my room after midnight. She didn’t turn on the light. She sat on the edge of my bed and touched my cheek with two fingers.

“You are not her,” she whispered.

I don’t know if she meant Isabel. I don’t know if she meant the girl with the chipped tooth.

I don’t know if she meant Reva.

I pretended to be asleep because pretending is the only gift I give either of us.

When she left, I kept my eyes closed and tried to remember what it felt like to be held without correction or placement waiting outside the door.