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Show Woodworth/122 "It's a psychological break, I guess," Ned says. "When you're in school, it's like you're still our little girl. Only someone else is taking care of you. But now it feels like you are really launched. Like you're really an adult. What do you think, Ruth? Have we done a good job? Do you think Marty is adequately prepared for the big, bad world?" Both turn to look at Ruth. Marty realizes that her mother hasn't said anything since the beginning of the conversation, and fears that now she will attack. This is dangerous territory to be on with Ruth. She'll say Marty is too this, too that. She's a whore, a prostitute. She's irresponsible, a slob. "I don't know," Ruth says quietly. She looks at the candles with her hands folded primly on her lap. "I don't think I'll ever stop worrying about my children. I guess mothers aren't ever ready for what happens to their children." She is quiet, and they all watch the candles, burning smaller, melting. Marty picks off a glot of wax, still warm, and pushes it back under the base of the flame. "But sooner or later," Ruth says after a moment, "Something happens. .Something happens to your children. They grow up, they leave home. And it doesn't really matter if you are ready or not. Because it just happens." They sit again in silence. "This is supposed to be a celebration," Ruth says, suddenly sparky. She lifts her wine glass. "And I'd like to toast to Marty- To wish her well in her new apartment. Her new life. Just because I'm not ready for her to leave doesn't mean that the time isn't right for her." Ruth raises her glass towards her daughter. "I /dsh you all the best. I really do," she says. "I'll drink to that," Ned adds. "Me, too," Marty says, and both her parents laugh. "AnJfTrawT R S W ^ s j ^ standing up, "I have a special dessert." |