Single Sashimi by Camy Tang

morning.
    Wasn’t prayer supposed to make her feel better? She only felt more agitation in her body. It had suddenly, fully dawned on her that Trish’s life was in danger. Her wonderful, fun-loving cousin Trish. They didn’t always get along, sure, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything.
    Her cousins were all she had.
    Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Trish would be okay, right? Venus had to be making something big out of nothing. So why did her relatives look so somber? She pressed her hand to her sternum, feeling her heart beating against the bone.
    She couldn’t even pray for Trish properly. Since when had praying become so hard? Hadn’t she had an easier time of it when she first became a Christian in college?
    She’d done a lot of things differently then. Maybe that was it. She’d gone to weekly Bible studies in addition to church, studying the Bible and soaking in all that she could. She’d attended college group, worshiped with complete abandon, felt at ease with both the guys and girls…because she’d been fat. She had recognized it, even back then.
    The guys had thought of her as one of them—androgynous. The girls had been friendly with that hint of pity, that relaxation in their smiles because she wasn’t more competition for the cuter guys in the group.
    She still read her Bible every day, she still prayed (badly) every day, still attended church every week. But it didn’t have that same enthusiasm, that same spark.
    Since when had her faith turned into a smelly, stagnating pond?
    Lord…maybe through all these troubles at work you’re trying to tell me something. But I’m not sure what .
    In the meantime… There’s just so much going on at once right now. Please take care of Trish. I’ll bother you later with all my other stuff .
    She was sure that made God just giddy with anticipation.
    She pressed her forehead into her hand.
    Someone sat beside her. She caught a scent of… Mom’s perfume. Expensive and elegant.
    Her eyes snapped open. She raised her head, already feeling her shoulders knot like sailor’s rope.
    Mom grabbed her hand, lying loosely in her lap, before Venus could snatch it away. “It’s okay, darling.”
    “I’m fine, Mom.” She sat straighter in the uncomfortable plastic chair.
    “I saw her earlier. She’s fine, you know.”
    Venus didn’t answer, but her mother’s voice had such a strange confidence. It eased the pain in her chest a little, despite the fact she didn’t want it to. She didn’t want her mother’s comfort.
    “She’s just like how it was when I had you. First babies typically take longest.”
    “It’s over twenty-four hours, Mom. How can that be normal?”
    “You took thirty-six.”
    Did she know that already? She must have. Mom must have told her at some point in her life, right? Why couldn’t she remember that? “You were in labor for thirty-six hours?”
    “It started around midnight, so I was awake for about two days straight.” Despite the horror of her words, Mom’s face seemed serene. Pleasantly reminiscing, even.
    “Did you even have strength to push?”
    She laughed, and this time it wasn’t that brassy tinkle she usually had. “By that time, I was begging you to come out.”
    They lapsed into a silence more comfortable than any she’d had with her mother in a long time.
    “Anyway.” Mom patted her hand, then released it and stood up. “I just wanted to tell you that what Trish is going through is fine. You looked worried.”
    “Yeah…th-thanks, Mom.” Her mouth almost couldn’t form the words, she’d rarely said them.
    Mom moved back to sit with Trish’s parents. She chatted with them with such ease—sweet smiles, nonstop mouth, animated hands.
    And the worry lines on Aunty Marian’s face disappeared, and Uncle Arvin flashed one of his winning smiles at his younger sister.
    How strange to see Mom useful, rather than whiney, flighty, and irresponsible. No, that was mean. Her mom was