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Tracy

Seviche insists on going to the bathroom alone, and promptly gets lost in it. After twenty minutes Tracy sighs and goes in.

“Coming, Mom?”

Seviche is washing her hands, which are shaking. “I’m just waiting for the water to warm up,” she says. “I don’t know why it takes so long.”

“You didn’t turn the hot water knob,” says Tracy. “The movie’s going to start.”

“Well,” sniffs Seviche, and tries to turn off the water but turns both knobs on instead. “After you, Babette.”

“Tracy, Mom.” Seviche’s hands are still dripping. Tracy opens the door, holding eye contact. Eye contact helps.

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