What's Important

I fingered the bottle of nail polish in my pocket.  “Could you do me a favor-something for my mother?” I asked handing him the bottle of bright red polish.

On our last visit, I promised my mother I would polish her toes the next time I saw her.  “Don’t bother doing it unless you use red,” she told me. She did not believe that anyone should paint their toes unless they used red.  This was one thing she was adamant about. Really.

“Please, would you do my mother’s toe nails? I had promised her…” my voice trailed off. Uncertain he would actually do it, I added.  “It's important.”

“Of course, of course. We will.” he looked at me with a thin smile.  He put the bottle in the pocket of his suit jacket and walked out of the room.  I was alone.   

Soft music played in the background and a strong floral smell permeated the space. I felt sick.  I didn’t know if I could manage without her.