The receptionist had to be wrong. There was no way my mother would leave work in the middle of the morning. Having seen how she had reacted to the police department summons, I only phoned her offices as a last resort when the swelling would not go down. Listening to the hold music, I tried to imagine her reaction when she had to leave work because I was a klutz. But, instead, the receptionist returned to the line and told me my mother wasn"t there. I hung the phone up and returned to the bathroom. My eye throbbed in pain, and each time I looked at the mirror, I winced. The first sight of my swollen, bruised cheek had sent me into nightmare visions of a trip to the emergency room, a place that, through an incredible run of good luck, I had avoided my entire life.
I turned on the cold fauce
