Justine: Thanks for your reviews, they crack me up.

**

"You eat just like when you were a child," my mother smiles. "You never gain anything either, reminds me of your fath-"

"Mom."

"Right, no more mention of the hideous bastard that never did anything right except give you to me," she answers sarcastically with a sigh as she fixes her napkin.

"Big prize."

"You are a big prize, and I never want to hear you say otherwise again," she chastises, legitimately angry. "You are the best thing that I could have ever gotten. It was worth anything else."

"Are you forgetting my teenage years?"

"Nothing like a little of the bad times to make you appreciate the good ones," she adds optimistically. I don't reply and she looks at me, tapping her fingers on the tabletop before she shakes her head. "He's your father, Harry, and that's why I have to see him. Because I loved him for so long and it hurts to see him like that. Because he's a part of my past that - though hard as hell - I don't regret."

"Because he gave you me? That's going to help with the guilt."

"Oh, stop it. It's not about you. It's about a relationship, one that ended, but still has a connection."

"Do you still love him?"

I used to ask her that when I was about sixteen and she used to see him. I didn't want her to say yes then and I certainly don't want her to now. Because I remember everything, I remember being dirt poor and him stealing her jewelry that Grandma gave her so he could gamble or do whatever. I remember him being drunk and passing out while she stole it back to go pawn it for food money.

"No. I don't," she says a little wistfully. "I have a little piece of my heart for my first love, but I don't know if he was my true love. He didn't stay with me through the hard times, Harrison."

"So why did you stay with him?" That came out a little bitter.

"Because I had to. Now . . . now I feel like I did when I was a teenager and wanted to love him because no one else did, because he was alone and didn't have anyone else. That is still there inside of me."

And I look at the tabletop to push away my glass.

Dana was right.

She is just a good person, and I can't change that. And I wouldn't want to.

**

Tropostey Hospital.

Tropostey Hospital.

That's where she is.

She asked for me. She said to tell her daughter she was in the hospital.

They told me it was Tropostey Hospital.

I've been sitting here for the past twenty minutes telling myself that and it's still hard to believe. Finally I stand and go to leave, I still don't have a key and so the door is always open these days. That's dangerous . . . Random thoughts fly through my head and I wonder, is this just a way for me to cope?

Should I write a note for Harry? Looking at the clock it's almost twelve fifteen, how did it get so late? I had to walk home from the café . . . home. My thoughts dart back to my old home, with my mother, and then further . . . when I was a kid and she was a great mom . . .

I wipe tears away and run out of the apartment, punching a number in the elevator and rushing inside. I can't hold back the sobs that I want to, if only a little, because it seems like there's so much I won't be able to handle it. When the bell dings I look up to see I did hit the right number for the first floor.

**

I jingle the keys against my hand and stare at the glowing indicators above the elevator. Silently I've been going over my speech to Dana, trying to find a way of saying, 'You're right' without *actually* having to say it.

But I was wrong. I'll admit that only to myself, thanks.

I was complaining and moaning when Dana only saw it as a good deed, a good mother. It seemed obvious she didn't get the upswing on that deal if Mrs. Poole threw her out and she had to come to me. Now that I think about it she never told me all the details what went -

The elevator opens and Dana stands there sobbing.

**

"Dana? What's wrong, what is it?" Harry asks and it only makes me cry harder. He doesn't hold my arms and try to talk to me, he just hugs me, and it's just what I need. But I still sob. "What happened? Is it what I said? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No." I tell him, pulling my head back. "It wasn't you. I just c-called --"

And I can't finish.

"What is it?" he questions, completely unnerved as he tries to wipe the tears from my face and get me to focus.

"My mother's in the hospital," I manage to choke out.

And he holds me tighter.

**

It's white and sterile. And for a hospital I guess that's always a plus, but to the common person walking down the corridor it's creepy and full of antiseptic smells.

Dana's calmer then she was before and she holds onto my arm as we walk along the floor we were directed to. The door numbers seem too confusing and when I'm sure I passed a room more than once we stop at the nurse's desk.

Dana clears her throat to ask. "I'm looking for a patient. Sandra Maison."

Maison? I always assumed it was Poole. She never bothered to come to teacher meetings to correct me.

"Are you family?" the young, efficient-looking nurse asks.

"Yes, I'm her daughter," and before the nurse asks she looks at me.

**

My mind is all clouded and I can't think right. What if they don't let Harry in because he's not family? I can't see her alone, I can't do it.

"He's my husband." The nurse nods and I look at Harry in apologize but he just nods for us to follow the pristine nurse. It's trite but that's what they always say in movies when they want someone with them. I guess it works.

"Here you are," she says stopping. I stare the door and mummer a thank you as she leaves. There's a chart hanging there with her name and I touch the print before taking a breath.

I have to do this now or I won't do it at all. I reach out and push the handle to walk in.

My hand falls until it meets Harry's and I hold it as tight as I can as we approach the bed. A made-for-TV movie plays and her eyes look glassy, making me wonder if she snuck in liquor before I realize it's probably the pain medication.

"Mom?" I ask softly.

**

The woman lying on the bed doesn't look much like Dana; her hair is bright red on the starchy white pillow. Her eyes are a dull brown as she looks over and her face seems sunken, defeated. Maybe, years ago, she resembled her daughter, but now she's gaunt and old beyond her years.

She seems almost as if she doesn't recognize Dana before she makes a face and turns back to the television.

"Mom?" she asks, her heart breaking in her voice.

"What?" the woman barks grouchily. "I'm watching something."

"What happened?"

"You don't see my leg?" she asks exasperated. It's up in a cast and elevated.

"But how did it happen, Mom?"

"I don't know, some idiot wasn't driving right, didn't see me when I walked off the curb."

"They said you blacked out and the car couldn't avoid hitting you," Dana responded, starting to cry again.

"Who said!?" her mother yelled. "Do you think I'm lying? Believe a maniac- driving stranger over your OWN MOTHER?!"

"No, that's not it. A nurse from the hospital called the club, they said you asked them to call me," she insisted. "She told me--"

"HA! Why would I ask them to call you," she sneered. "Just a whore that I wouldn't even allow in my house."

**

That makes me break down completely but it's like my feet are stuck to the floor, I can't leave, I can't move. I was like a stone when I left the house and now it's like the tears that wanted to come that night are able to rush out now.

"Why would I want them to call you?" she spits. "A reminder of your father is what you are. Looking just like that son of a bitch! Daddy's little girl. You're just a snobby little girl who works the streets now, aren't you? And who's that? A 'john'? Has my darling little child finally crossed that line from taking off her clothes to letting them do whatever they want for a dollar?"

Harry steps up immediately and opens his mouth to say something, his face angry before I turn, pushing him out of the room and into the corridor. Tears are streaming down my face as I still hold him, preventing him from going in even if there's no need and his only concern right now is holding my face and telling me things in a sweet, low voice.

**

Dana's trying to calm down, I see it in her as she shakes her head and tells me she's okay.

But she's not.

"Dana, breathe, alright? It's fine," I say because I don't know what else to say.

"I-have, I have to see the . . ." she cries more and I hold her close to me. She buries her face in my shirt and we don't have that 'careful, no touching' rule flashing over us. We can't have anything that would prevent my comforting her now.

It seems like a long time before she pulls away and heads over to the nurse's station. Wiping her cheeks she clears her throat before asking for something and when she comes back she's looking over a stack of paper.

"What is that?"

"She doesn't have insurance," Dana informs me with a raw voice.

"Dana--"

"I have to."

"You have no money. You have college . . . Dana, don't."

"I really don't have it to spend, Harry . . . I . . . I lied to you. There was never a bank mistake; I just needed somewhere to stay for a while. She . . . She found my bank card and tried to drain me, I needed help and I thought of you . . . I just needed somewhere to stay instead of moving from hotel to hotel and draining even more than a flat rent rate. I'm sorry I just didn't tell you . . . I . . . God, Harry."

She's breaking right in front of me, she should have told me in the beginning, I would have let her stay anyway, but she doesn't realize that and that is what's so hard to see. "I would have let you stay anyway."

She cries more and wipes away the tears.

"Dana, we can figure something else out though. We can--"

"She's my mother, Harry," she says with a roll of her eyes like she hadn't been crying seconds ago and the tears still didn't roll down her cheeks.

"She doesn't act like it."

She stops her appraisal of the papers in hand and looks up and me. Her eyes a red and clear from the wash of crying. She hunches her shoulder and gives me a half smile before she answers.

"I have years to go to school."

It's small and sad as she puts her back against the wall to slide down and start with the paperwork.

**

I talked to the doctor when he came around on his rounds. He was so young that Doogie Howser was probably his supervisor, but he was nice as he told me and Harry about my mother's leg and how she had some bruised organs in edition to a liver that, though weak, was surprisingly in good condition considering my mother's 'problem'.

I nodded and smiled at the good points although I didn't want to smile.

I just can't understand what I feel right now. My mother pretty much abandoned me at eleven and now, after she berated my in front of Harry and showed the secret I tried to keep from him, displaying how much my own mother thought of me. . . After all that, all I wanted to do was to go in there and crawl into bed next to her and put my arms around her like she used to do for me. But I can't, and I even when I told myself I accepted that I don't think I ever really did until now.

They gave me a preliminary print out of the hospital bill so far.

If it wasn't certain before it is now. College will have to wait.

Harry pulls me closer like he's been doing the whole day and it's all I can do not to fall asleep in his arms. But he moves his face into my neck and now it's all I can do not to cry. I pull away instead and look up at him with a slight smile.

"We can go, she obviously doesn't want me here," I whisper. "But, I just want to see her before we leave, okay?"

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks, protective of me. And I smile a little again.

"No thanks. I'm a big girl," I tell him, even if I couldn't think of taking a step inside without him before. I don't want him to see the weak side of me; he's already seen it too much. I don't want him to see my mother's bad side either. "Be right back."

When I return to her beside she's half-asleep, the movie long since over. With her fluttering eyelids I see the medication trying her and at least she won't be conscious enough to belittle me.

"The Doctor said you're okay, Mom. I'm going to leave now, but don't worry about the hospital bills." Everything I tell her is barely audible as she lies there, drool seeping out of her mouth before I step forward and take a tissue from one of those cheap boxes and wipe it away. "Tuesday is my birthday, you're officially rid of me. It was hard, but that part is over now. I love you, Mom."

"Goodnight, Dana," she slurs startling me. She says nothing else and I step back, telling myself not to cry anymore. She looks tired even in her sleep. My mother, who I adored with the curled red hair, the best mom in the world, the woman in a drug induced sleep with drool seeping out of her mouth. I wanted to be just like her when I was a child, now I pray I never will be.

"Love you," I whisper and I look at her one more time before I leave.

**

Anger flooded me when she'd left me outside of the room. What could Mrs. Maison be saying to her? She had no right to say anything to her. Dana was NOT a whore, she was a stripper and there is a big difference. Besides, it looked as if she hadn't taken much interest in WHAT Dana was doing for a long time so what right did she have to say something now?

When we left the hospital I asked her were she wanted to go and she only told me, 'Home', and I didn't know were to go. To the place she once called home? Did she even call my apartment that? Maybe she didn't see it that way, but I wanted her to.

"I want to go home," she whispers to me. "I think I left the TV on."

That catches me and I glance at her to see her staring out the window.

She wants to go home.