Morphine Ghost

I used to think everyone was exaggerating when they said that about someone, but I have counted. I have watched her through entire conversations without seeing her eyelids close once. Sometimes I stop talking in the middle of a sentence just to see what she will do. Nothing. She only stares at me until I speak again, as if she has been waiting for me to continue reading from a script I was never given. When I ask why she won't blink, she laughs and blinks several times in a row, almost theatrically, then asks if I'm feeling all right. It makes me wonder if she only remembers to do it after I mention it.

Last night I woke up thirsty and found her standing in the hallway outside my bedroom. The lights were off, but I could still make out her face. She was looking directly at my door. I whispered, "Mother?" and she answered immediately, as though she had been expecting me to wake at that exact moment. When she walked back to her room, I realized I had never actually seen her eyes close—not while she stood there, not while she turned away, not even when she disappeared into the darkness. Maybe everyone blinks. Maybe I only stop looking whenever she does.