Leave mommy alone. I only hug pillow and drift into the sweet softness of sleep. Next door to our little store, an old man named George gives me candy or children's books to read. I feel pride as I read each word aloud and begin to understand the words. Sometimes I imagine I am a beautiful mistreated princess whose wicked stepmother and stepsister forces her to do chores and dream about living happily ever after.
Princesses always get happy endings.
But I'm not a princess. I see less and less of my mother as the months pass by. My father rarely speaks to me, only acknowledging me when he asks me to get him something from the fridge. My beautiful mother, with her pretty face, long silky black hair, and ready smile, smiles less readily. Small wrinkles form in the corners of her eyes and around her mouth and traces of white appears on the hair on her temples.