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even saw her manage to squeeze a tear out.  I wish that her tears were for her only child’s grief at losing her best friend, but I knew they were really just to convince everyone else that she was the perfect mother.
    “I know, it’s just…”
    “It’s just nothing. Garrett is gone.  I know you miss him, but you need to get it together.”  The tone in her voice held the same expectations of me dealing with it , as it had the last time she mentioned Garrett’s name, when she told me “I was an adult” and that “death was just a part of life.”  
    I’d never understood how this woman and I shared the same DNA.  She was about as empathetic as a statue. The only things that linked us were physical similarities: dark hair and dark eyes. It was amazing how much my mother and I looked alike.  The only difference was that my mother’s hips had become a little wider over the years.  I’m sure she blamed me for ruining her figure. As she reminded me often, she carried me for nine months and endured eighteen hours of labor to bring me into this world.  Even when I was a child, I never remembered my mother being warm or loving, unless we were in public.  I used to wish for the days that we’d go to the market, where she’d hold my hand, or attended church, when she’d pull me onto her lap, but as soon as we were home it all ended.   All I remembered was her constant desire for adulation.  I used to be tempted to ask her what made her this way, but as the years went by, I found that I didn’t really care.  I wasn’t going to waste my feelings on a woman who didn’t seem to have any for me.
    “You are not going to skip your graduation.  Do you know what the town will say if you aren’t there?  This family has an image to uphold.”
    “An image?! Really, Mom!” Of course she only cared about the way it would look to the town if I didn’t go to my graduation.  We were the Boyds.  The perfect little farm family.  Heaven forbid, anyone in this town believe that we were not like the Rockwell portrayal of a hardworking, good Christian family that she’d worked her entire married life to ensure.  What she was really trying to say was, “I can’t have people thinking I’m not the superior wife and mother I pretend to be when I walk down the street.”
    “Yes, Alyssa.  This is not just about you.  Your father works very hard. So do I!”
    I almost laughed at that one.  What a hard life you live, mother.  Grocery shopping and making lunch every day for my father and the two hired hands was really freakin’ stressful.  Oh, and let’s not forget, the gallon jug of sweet tea that she slaved over before driving it out to my father in the fields.  “You think I like feeling this way?  I hate not being able to walk into the gym without having a meltdown!”
    “Do not raise your voice again.” Her hand slapped off the counter top. Then the five words that I knew were eventually going to come out of her mouth made their appearance. “Are you taking your medication?”
    “Ugh!” I closed my eyes and pinned my lips so as not to let any foul words spew out of my mouth.  The medication in question was the prescription that my doctor had given me the day after Garrett’s funeral.  My mother hauled me into his office when I couldn’t stop crying.  I knew she wasn’t really worried about me.  I was pretty sure that she was actually allergic to tears.  I’m sure the one she squeezed out at Garrett’s funeral took every ounce of her will to summon.  I took that medication for one week before deciding that I’d rather feel everything than nothing at all.  The person I was off the meds was nothing compared to the zombie-like existence I led while on them. “Yes,” I lied.
    “Well, we need to get your dosage adjusted.”  She stated flatly.  As if watching a few episodes of gray’s Anatomy qualified her to write prescriptions, and I loved the way she said “we” as if she was going