[Author's Note: I feel so bad for neglecting this story! I really don't mean to do it, but the end of the semester has been taking up all the time and energy I have to offer. I promise I'll be back to the two or so per week once exams are over, but until then thank you for being patient with my antics!]

Snow Day

Chapter Twenty-Five: Understand

December 15, 5:00 PM, EST

"Joanne!" Maureen squeals as she bursts into the apartment. "He wrote back!"

"Well, of course he wrote back: he's your friend, isn't he?" I reply from the couch. But I can't help smiling at Maureen's excitement.

"Oh, shut up and listen to what he said!" Maureen steps onto and over the coffee table, which she knows annoys me, and plops down in my lap. She clears her throat dramatically and reads:

"Dear Mo, by the time you get this I'll probably be home in almost exactly a week, and I can't wait to see your big show. We all know that that high-society nonsense isn't where Benny belongs- I hope you'll prove that to him once and for all.

Anyway, I hope you realize that when I get there I'll be expecting a full explanation of what happened between you and Mark, and I'll be the judge of what kind of punishment he needs. Also, you'd better warn 'mystery person' that they're going to have to be subjected to all the rites and rituals associated with earning the Tom Collins Seal of Approval.

It sounds like you've been doing a pretty bang-up job of it, so keep taking care of yourself. See you soon, kiddo. Love, Collins."

"Aww… You two are so adorable."

Maureen giggles and gives me a quick kiss. "It's ten times worse than he makes it sound, you know." I give her a questioning look, and she continues. "When he found out that Mark and I were going out, he lectured Mark for, like, two hours about what a perfect gentleman he was going to be to me and all this garbage."

"And these ended up being all the things Mark didn't do?"

She heaves a sigh and snuggles against me. "Essentially, yes."

"I just can't understand it," I admit while I lie down and pull her on top of me again.

"What?" she asks, curling into my side and nuzzling the underside of my chin.

"I just don't understand how anyone could ever bear to do anything that might hurt you. I mean, I… I'd never be able to live with myself."

"Oh, whatever. Everybody gets over that feeling eventually. You just haven't been around me long enough."

Out of instinct I try to bring her closer to me, but it isn't possible. "You can't say that," I tell her. I'm vaguely disgusted by how pathetic and whiny I sound. "You act like you're not worth anything." She has to think on that one for a little while, but her response makes me feel awful:

"I wish I could show you what things look like to me, Joanne," she says slowly. "I wish I could explain everything and show you how it really is… I think our lives have been a lot different; I don't think you know what I mean when I try to tell you that no one has ever been able to convince me that I'm all that important. You know how you're supposed to have to hear, like, five good things about yourself to cancel out one bad thing someone says about you? As far as I can tell that's definitely true… and the people who care about me can't even catch up- much less get to a five-to-one ratio."

For a minute or two I can't decide what exactly to tell her. I don't want to upset her, and I don't want to make it sound like I could be simply arguing for the sake of arguing. But finally I realize exactly what it is I want her to hear: "I can do five-to-one," I say while I trace slow, gentle patterns on her calf with my foot, "I just need a little bit more time."