The Burden of my Father

3

Amaris looked out of the bus window and couldn't help noticing her reflection in the glass. Her bleak brown eyes seemed too big for her face, sunken in, surrounded by dark circles. Her black chunky glasses covered most of her face. She ran her fingers through her hair that shed spent two hours trying to straighten the night before but it still only barely reached her shoulders. She sighed, wishing she had long black hair like her mother instead of the rusty brown straw she was born with. Her petite nose was covered with dried flakes of skin she tried to hide with make-up but ended up making it even more noticeable than before. Her cheeks were hollowed in making her cheekbones stick out awkwardly on her face. Staring intently at her reflection, she noticed the slight mustache that she forgot to shave this morning. She sighed and slouched in her seat, but then immediately sat back up straight; she didn't want to get a hunchback like her grandmother.

Looking back at her reflection she thought she should probably stop by the Dollar Tree tomorrow to get a razor before her next appointment. As the bus turned onto Pine St., she pulled the yellow cord alerting the driver that it was her stop. She waited until the bus completely stopped before standing up so she didn't stumble. Then, she rushed down the aisle avoiding making eye contact, taking quick steps. She mumbled a quick thank you to the driver before stepping out into the cold October air.

Amaris put her hands in her coat pockets and walked down the street to her house. Walking up the driveway she saw her blue 2017 Chevy Colorado; it was her dad's truck before he passed away, a year ago. He was only 34, but he died from a heart attack while mowing the lawn. A week after his funeral, her mother had bought two containers of Roundup and poured it all over the lawn; the grass has been dead ever since. Maybe it was a good thing her mother wouldn't let her drive it anymore, Amaris thought. It held too many memories. She turned away from the truck and went into the house, stopping inside the door, trying to see where her mother was. It sounded like she was in the living room having a heated conversation with someone on the phone. It was probably the insurance company again; they never cover the medicine her doctor prescribes.