I stretched but didn’t throw off my covers. I had the air conditioning on a low enough temperature that I was usually able to sleep comfortably with a sheet and a light blanket, but I’d woken up yesterday wrecked and aching. By noon, I was coughing, and my head ached. With my new job and responsibilities, I couldn’t afford to be ill, so I forced myself to the closest free clinic. I’d gotten back hours later, even more miserable than before, but at least fortified with medication and vitamins.

I’d hoped I would wake up mended today, but that was wishful thinking on my part. I wasn’t ill often, but when I was, it hit me hard. Da had always said it was because I pushed myself until something had to give.

I rubbed my forehead and glanced over at my clock. It was almost time to take my medicine again. I didn’t want to get up, but I’d purposefully left it in the bathroom so I’d have to do just that.

I splashed some water on my face before retrieving what I needed. As I shut the cabinet door, I caught sight of my reflection and grimaced. Good thing it was still the weekend. I didn’t quite understand why Alix thought I was a good model, though the pictures I’d seen showed a woman different than the one I saw in the mirror. But now, even he would be unable to find anything attractive in how I looked.

A warmth spread through me at the thought of Alix, and I allowed myself a smile. I didn’t know exactly what we were doing, but I’d thoroughly enjoyed our post-session sex Thursday afternoon, and if I was being honest, I wouldn’t mind more of it. I always thought I wasn’t the sort of person who would really enjoy sex since I hadn’t particularly liked it with the two guys I’d slept with before Alix, but he was making me reconsider that way of thinking.

Even the memory of my time with Alix wasn’t enough to keep me on my feet for long though. I wrapped my blanket more tightly around my shoulders and shuffled into the kitchen. I heated up one of those pre-packaged bowls of soup that never tasted as good as what Mam made, retrieved a bottle of water, and then made my way into the living room.

I managed to eat and drink most of my meal, but not too long after I finished, I fell back asleep. It was my phone ringing that woke me from a dreamless sleep. It’d already gone to voicemail by the time I managed to get awake enough to grab it from the table, but Mam’s number still showed on the screen, so I tapped the callback option before she could wait her usual five minutes and call again.

That had always been Mam’s way. If we didn’t answer when she called, she wouldn’t give up until she got ahold of us. One time, when my brother Ian had been out with some friends, he hadn’t answered her call, so she’d driven to the pub. There he was, chatting up some girl when Mam came in wearing a housecoat, her hair in curlers. Our tiny mother had grabbed his ear and dragged him out, then took him straight to the local priest and waited outside while Ian was in confession.

“Morning, Mam,” I said as soon as she answered.

“What’s wrong with ya, darlin’?”

Her familiar voice washed over me, and I closed my eyes as a wave of homesickness followed. It was times like these that I missed my mother.

“Not feelin’ well, Mam.” Whenever I talked to either of my parents, especially her, I sounded like I’d never left home.

“Are ya eatin’ enough?”

“Yes, Mam.” I smiled as she began her usual line of questioning. I knew it all by heart, but I let her go about it anyway. It was nice to have someone make a fuss for once.

I settled back onto the couch and snuggled down into my little nest of blankets. It wasn’t as good as Mam being here to take care of me, but listening to her fuss was a nice consolation prize.

“Are ya sure yer takin’ care of yourself, Sine?”

“I am, Mam,” I promised for the third time.

“Now tell me more about this job Donald mentioned.”

I mentally cursed my favorite brother while I tried to figure out the best way to explain things to my mom without her freaking out. “I’m working as an assistant to a photographer.”

“That’s lovely, dear. What’s her name?”

Another curse to Donald.

“His name’s Alix Wexler. And before you ask, he’s a nice young man, Mam.”

“Is he of the faith?”

I stifled a laugh. “I don’t believe so. We don’t really talk about that sort of thing.”

And there was no way in hell I’d be telling my mam what it was the two of us did talk about, because that was not the sort of thing that was fit conversation between mother and daughter. Especially when said mother would probably fly here and drag me to church if she ever found out what I was doing.

“Does he treat you well?”

I was pretty certain that her idea of treating me well didn’t include the multiple orgasms he’d given me, but I’d just leave it at an affirmative answer.

“Yes, Mam, he does.”

“If he ever...”

“Mam.” I sighed.

She kept going, just like I’d known she would. “You listen to me, Sine Janet McNiven, there may be an ocean between us, but your family will always be there when you need us. Are ya hearin’ that?”

“Yes, Mam.” I sniffled, suddenly realizing that I’d teared up.

As we finished up our conversation, I promised myself that part of that insane amount of money that Alix was paying me would go toward a ticket for a trip back home. But just a trip. I was more determined than ever to remain in America for life.