Free Facelift by Leanna Ellis

raspy.
    My closet is a quick escape. I refuse to feel guilty since it’s my own space with my own clothes and shoes. In a box toward the back, I find a little brass bell I used once for a play Izzie was in at school. “I thought this might be useful.” I place the bell on the bedside table. “In case you need something . . . anything.”
    “Fine.” She doesn’t open her eye. I’ve been dismissed.
    Still I hesitate. “Dinner will be ready soon. Are you hungry?”
    “No.”
    “It’s homemade chicken noodle soup.”
    No answer.
    “Well . . . let me know if you need anything. Water. Your pills. An ice pack. Okay?”
    Still no answer. Definitely dismissed. I slip out of the room and close the door as quietly as I can. When I reach the den, I glance out the back window and realize something is wrong. Dirt splotches the pool decking like it has just rained soil. The roots of a plant are upturned, the leaves shredded and scattered about like confetti. Mixed among them are the pink and yellow petals of my roses. Next to it all is the panting, eager face of Cousin It. Which makes me growl low and menacing at the back of my throat.

    The bell was obviously a mistake on my part. I should don a uniform of some kind to complete my new role of servant. Maybe I should answer, “You rang?” in the same ghastly voice of Lurch.
    “Mom!” Izzie appears in the den. I’m curled upon my new bed, exhausted from the day of being Marla’s beck-and-call girl. “Did you get me cotton balls at the store today?”
    “I didn’t go to the store.” I feel as if I didn’t accomplish much today but drop the balls I’ve been juggling, scamper around to pick them up, rush around to help Marla, and chase after Cousin It. “Did you ask for some?”
    “Yeah.” The disgusted look on Izzie’s face reminds me of my full-blown reaction when Cousin It dug up my roses. I took a long time-out, walking around the block to cool off my temper. I took another this morning with Cousin It in my effort to tame her. But I’m not sure who walked whom.
    “I’ll pick you up some cotton balls tomorrow. There may be some in my bathroom if you want to check.”
    “I’m not going in there .” There now means where she is. But she also means Cousin It. As in, she has a pen. Or she’s eating toilet paper. Or she’s counter surfing again.
    Before this week I would have considered it a toss-up as to which would be in the lead for worst house guest—Marla or Cousin It. But the dog seems to be winning. Maybe God planned it this way to give me more patience and appreciation for Marla. After all, if Cliff and I are to get back together, then I’ll have to get along with his mother. At least she doesn’t drink out of the toilet.
    “I’ll sneak in later and find some for you. Okay?”
    “We have to sneak around in our own home,” Izzie grumbles.
    “Yes, and we also have to keep the toilet seat down and food away from the counter’s edge. You can’t blame your grandmother for that!”
    She gives me a look—the teen kind that means I’ve stepped in it. She turns on her heel and heads back to her room. I follow. At least Izzie is less intimidating than Marla. And that’s saying something as my daughter’s temper could be considered a perfect storm at times. “I’m just trying to be considerate. Marla needs her rest.”
    “She always needs something.”
    Carefully I close the door. A crunching noise alerts me. I glare at the dog. “What’s she chewing on?”
    “A bone. Gabe gave me a supply at school.”
    “Look, Izzie, I know you’re not happy about this, but we have to make the best of the situation. Can we at least try to get along? Marla hasn’t done anything to hurt you.”
    “Lately.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Did she eat that soup you went to so much trouble to make?”
    “No, but you didn’t either. And she didn’t eat my roses either.” Ignoring her scowl, I walk toward my daughter’s closet. “Can I borrow