Les Confrères

Beth was met at the airport by her mom and her dog Barkolomew, so named for the Jesus-shaped spot on its back. Tiredly delirious from a 15 hour flight, Beth made it through to the airport exit in her New England hometown quickly as she'd brought only a single carry-on stuffed with a chaotic assortment of ambergris shower moisturizer and a low-fat energy bar. Barkie went from impatient anticipation on the outside curb to spastic delirium when Beth stepped through the exit doors. Her mom greeted her warmly with Barkie jumping between them. She didn't seem to notice that Beth was two sizes smaller and had lightened her hair. She seemed glad to see her.

The house was messy, making for more work and less relaxation than she thought. Duty and family accounted for it. Her mom made it known she'd been sick these past few weeks, but as she settled in Beth could tell her mom had made the attempt to straighten up a little. Today was the first day in four months that her mom had failed to call her, and that was because today she returned. A scent drifted through the porch screen door, the freshness of New England earth in the spring. Tomorrow there was a grieving family to support. She slept on the couch with Barkie beside her until two the next afternoon.