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Show 155 me, grabbing my hands, pulling me to my feet, and everybody in the cafeteria, especially the nurses, are staring at us, I know they are. I've been thinking about my mother today. When I was little she used to come visit me, but it was always terrible, a lot of stupid tears and crying which nobody liked, so finally she moved to Florida, with a real-estate man. I remember the last time she came to see me. I was twelve or thirteen, and it was springtime. I was at my worst. I was in bed and they had my hands in mittens, tied to the side-rails so I couldn't dig at myself in my sleep. "Jenny, my God, what have they done to you?" Her crying awakened me. "They're torturing me, Momma," I said. "Untie me, untie me." She untied me, I took off the mittens, and by the time the doctors and nurses got to the room, my sheets were gloriously soaked with blood. I had to laugh. Owen and I have been going for walks every evening now. At least he's somebody to talk to. Even though I still hate him, I've decided he isn't such a bad person to talk to. Besides, he's only got two days left here at the Center. Last night we walked around and around the block until we were tired and then we went to the garden and sat on the bench where the |
