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Keep it together

I glanced in the fold down mirror of Chris’ car, wincing when I saw my reflection in natural lighting. My eyes still held tinges of pink streaks and the puffiness hadn’t gone down at all.

The only consolation is that Chris wasn’t lying about his hangover cure. My stomach was no longer rolling with nausea and my headache had dulled down to a brain fog.

“Do you think it’s frowned upon to wear glasses inside of a church?”

Chris snorted, “Yes. But who the fuck cares? If his almighty greatness can forgive murderers, he can forgive you for wearing sunglasses to church.”

My whole body deflated at the thought of my mother ordering them off before ranting about why in the world I thought it would be appropriate to not only wear the sunglasses, but to get drunk enough to need them the night before Easter.

I spotted her the moment we stepped out of the car. My mother was wearing a beige satin dress with long lace sleeves. Her shoes matched perfectly, and it appeared she’d called the on-demand ha
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