{W}rite of Passage: Lizbeth

She sensed her mother’s presence even through the fog of sleep and snot. Lizbeth sunk deeper under the sheets willing her mother to please leave, to please turn her ducky humidifier back on, and to please just let her sleep.

Her mother’s hand rested on her clammy forehead, Lizbeth’s blond curls falling onto her mother’s perfectly french manicured nails. The light of the chandelier above her bed illuminated her room, but it felt blinding to her.

Lizbeth tried to breathe in through her nose. It felt like the time that mean third grader, Jace Upsinger, had held her nose closed on the playground. She couldn’t breathe, except through her mouth. Too bad she couldn’t get away from her mother by kicking her like she had that stupid Jace Upsinger. She pulled the covers over her head to block out the light and turned her tiny body away from her mother.

“Lizbeth,” her mother sighed, “You have been sick this entire Christmas break! Surely after two weeks, you’re feeling better today. I’m certain you don’t have a fever, just a stuffy nose. You’re fine! I have Pilates this morning and I’m not going to miss it. You need to get up and get dressed because we are leaving soon.”

Lizbeth immediately thought of Amanda, her most favorite babysitter who let her play with all of her toys at once and didn’t care if she made a mess or got dirty.

“You mean I can keep my Barbies out even if I want to play with my castle now?” she’d asked Amanda the week before when she’d come over to babysit. Amanda had told her that she could play with her Barbies, her castle, her Easy Bake Oven, her stuffed animals, anything she wanted and didn’t even have to put it all away until it was time for her to go home.

“My mommy NEVER lets me do that!” Lizbeth had squealed with delight, between coughs. She’d been so sick that day that she hadn’t ended up playing with all her toys at once, but instead fell asleep on her playroom floor.

Lizbeth rolled back towards her mother who had already opened her shoe closet and was reaching for her Uggs. “Mommy? Can Amanda just come over and stay with me? I don’t want to go to your gym. I feel sick.”

“I’ve spoken with Amanda’s mother this morning, but unfortunately she is not feeling well and cannot come over. Now get up, the maid will be here soon to clean and we need to get going if I’m going to make my class,” her mother turned and walked out of Lizbeth’s room. “I’ll meet you downstairs with a banana and a glass of juice, Lizbeth.”

Reluctantly, Lizbeth rolled out of bed and got dressed as her mother asked.

On the ride to the gym, Lizbeth pressed her face against the cold glass of the window in the backseat of the Mercedes. Her ponytail felt too tight and her pink hoodie felt too itchy. She willed herself to just stay well enough to make it through her Mommy’s class, and to make sure she didn’t let the gym babysitters see that she was sick. Her mommy would be so mad, she knew, if she got called out of her class because she’d let them know she was sick.

“Ta ta, Lizbeth!” her mother smiled and waved as she dropped Lizbeth off in the kid’s area.

She’d had to pretend before, lots of times, so she knew that she’d better stay far away from the babysitters. Her stomach gurgled and churned and her head throbbed as she made her way to the book corner in the back of the room. For two hours she sat and stared at the letter “A” and the cartoon alligator on the carpet, trying to feel better and hoping that her mommy would please hurry back.

When her mother finally returned, she’d showered and put on her make-up. “She looks so pretty”, thought Lizbeth, as she walked slowly to her mother, afraid of the sloshing in her stomach. Her mother walked several steps ahead as Lizbeth tried to keep up, her little legs struggling to match her mother’s long gait.

Lizbeth cried out after her, “Mommy wait!”

As her mother turned around, annoyed, Lizbeth caught up to her and promptly barfed all over her mother’s Dolce and Gabbana boots.

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This is my entry for the {W}rite of Passage Challenge. Today’s challenge was “Character.” This is a work of fiction, but based on a little girl I saw this weekend.