what you get

it killed her to watch her child board the bus every day. actors' daughters do NOT attend public school, she'd later rage to her older, heavier reflection. she'd planned to be married and divorced by now, cushioned by alimony and child support payments. support in fact was unreliable and paltry, an embarrassment when she did receive it. she mourned her lost 20s.

velvet ropes used to part for her, offering rich fat fruit for plucking. athletes with expensive cars wore the finest clothing but rarely condoms; musicians were a gamble either way. the handsome, recurring character whose face was now reflected in her daughter's evidently did not, but she couldn’t really remember that night. she sipped coffee and browsed through her closet, past the sweatsuits and mom clothes, blazers and comfortable shoes. black stilettos, black slipdress. artifacts. but there was a basketball game later that evening and a pair of spanx in her top drawer.