Like Mother, Like Daughter

Lisa looked at her watch. Ben was late. He had said when he’d left for work that morning that he would meet her at the school, that he had a light day for a change, only one short appointment in the afternoon, and then he would be home after a detour to the gym.

The kids were teenagers now though and it felt like the grown-ups were trying too hard to hang onto their rapidly fading youth when they were actually bone tired, intolerant of too much noise, and wanted to be at home watching The Great Pottery Throwdown in their slippers

lies in the bed, still, too still. A chill passes through me. I take a step forward, press up to the glass. Then I hear the whir of the machine, see the hospital-issue blanket rise and fall. I exhale again too.

bullies everywhere, even when you were a grown-up.

were bullies everywhere, even when you were a grown-up.

were bullies everywhere, even when you were a grown-up.

matter how many times she walked into this school, it was still like stepping back in time, triggering memories of disappointing report cards and comments about not living up to her potential

Lisa Marco stopped abruptly as the double doors to the school hall slapped back into place behind her. Familiar smells bombarded her: sweat, stale air and canteen grease hanging suspended in the air, bringing back unwelcome olfactory memories of her own school days

Lisa felt heat rise in her cheeks.

She lies in the bed, still, too still.