Glancing down the dim hallway, Abby made her way to the bench where her mother sat. There was a lump at her chest, and her heart pounded; what if today marked the last bit of sanity in the cycle? If Maggie took off now...
"You lied," she managed, settling grimly beside the older woman. "You wanted to kill yourself."
Maggie flicked her a quick, nervous look. "I can't be committed."
Abby pushed down a spurt of fury. Where was it in the rules that 'Marjorie Wyczenski Can't Be Committed'? People were put on psych holds every day, and for a hell of a lot less than taking thirty-six sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. "Well, you need help, Mom," she bit off. "And I obviously don't know how to help you."
"I understand. I don't want to be a burden to you," Maggie persisted.
Then get help! Abby felt like yelling. She'd never blamed her mother for having a disease, but there was no excuse for not doing something about it - particularly during one of her 'rational' periods. Abby managed a bitter laugh.
"I swear that's the truth. But I can't be committed." Maggie shook her head firmly.
Why? What is with this sudden allergy to the psych department? Why? But Abby held the angry words back. It never helped to get into a screaming match with her mother - and she always ended up disgusted with herself for stooping to Maggie's level. "So, what, you're just going to go out and do this to yourself again?" she demanded instead. "You're just going to roll through the whole cycle?"
"No," she insisted, but Abby spoke over her protests.
"Then what? What, what are you going to do differently this time?"
"I don't know, I don't want to make...I don't want to break any more promises to you," Maggie stuttered.
Grimly, Abby chuckled. Well, that was a help. Who cared if she went off and succeeded in killing herself, as long as she hadn't promised not to do it?
"I've put you through so much already," Maggie went on, and something in Abby broke.
"If you believed that, you would seek treatment!" she snapped, louder than she'd intended.
"I will," she claimed, "I just -"
"'Can't be committed', Abby echoed shortly. "Right, well...well, just forgive me if I don't trust your judgment."
There was a long moment of silence, and Abby nearly gave up. But Maggie did speak again - softly, but loud enough. "I would have found a way to try, Abby."
She sucked in a breath as her mother continued.
"It's not your fault. Nothing I do is your fault."
"Yeah," Abby returned hoarsely, training her eyes on the last dregs of yogurt in her cup. "Okay, Maggie."
After a minute or so, she felt the bench creak as Maggie stood up, heard the faint taps on the floor as she walked away.
Abby's hand strayed once more to the lump at her chest - and fumbling slightly, she flicked the recorder off.
