So, Nancy some years past her college days is still suffering from a terrible attack she had. This is a snippet from a lunch scene with her mother…enjoy.
Standing in front of the mirror applying another coat of red lipstick, my mind races back to that night when blood oozed from below my lip. He cut me deep leaving a terrible scar; the scars just don’t go away, mentally or physically. The cut I sustained left a two-inch scar right under my lip. Three plastic surgeries couldn’t cover it up completely. The surgeon said it was the best that could be done under the circumstances. The best has haunted me continuously. Well, I guess I should be glad that I’m alive.
The voice of my mother again, “Nancy?”
All the way into the bathroom my mother followed me! Annoying! “What mother?” She just couldn’t leave me alone, not even in the privacy of the bathroom. Public restrooms, I guess, mean exactly that: public. But still, to follow your own daughter into the bathroom, as if she was going in to check on a five year old, is just insane. That’s typical for her though. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at all by her actions.