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Show Woodworth/222 say something. "You are not my mother anymore." There was nothing she could say, because here was another child, having an emergency. There always seemed to be three times as many children as there actually were. She never understood them, never understood why they cried, or why they were angry. With Jake, they had tried everything. They had gone to the psychiatrist. If he wouldn't come to the table, she let him eat dinner after everyone else, and even came into the kitchen late, after everyone else had gone to bed, to rinse off his plate and the dishes he left. It seemed like the only way to reach him. To do things like that for him. But it never helped. Then she read in a book that adolescents have to be taught respect. They have to have rules that they can rebel against. So they had him do chores. The girls did a lot more than he did, really. She felt sorry for him because he didn't like boarding school, and they made him stay there. It seemed like she had tried and tried everything, and still she wasn't his mother. She really waan't his mother any more. It's time to stop thinking about Jake. It's been time for a long time, but he won't go away. Like the ghost in Hamlet, it's like he's not really dead yet. Needs some retribution before he can rest in his grave. She pours the melted ice cubes and scotch from her glass into the wastebasket, and walks unsteadily to the liquor cabinet. Just one will help her sleep. She wants to be rested. Tomorrow - or today, already - is Megan's party. She wants to make breakfast, be refreshed. She half fills the glass, and decides to drink it straight. Funny, no one jv, V,QV. •»-ii- firnnJtti Taitf"r° |