Pregnant, fat, miserable, alone. Then, I had a toothache on top of everything else. I went to that stupid bald fuck Fred Bart. He told me he had something that could take the edge off.' She glared at Jeffrey as if he'd challenged her. 'I made my choice.'
' Lena would want to see you.'
'I been in and out of jail the last twenty years. You think a cop wants a con for a mother?'
Jeffrey certainly hadn't wanted his own father, but then you didn't get to choose your parents. 'I've known Lena a long time. She'd want to see you.'
'You think she wants to see this?' Angela demanded, rolling up her sleeve.
Jeffrey winced at the damage the needles had done to her skin over the years.
'I work here,' Angela said. 'I make just enough money to keep myself going. I don't need nothing in my life that makes it complicated.'
'I'm not sure Lena would agree.'
'Yeah, well…' She pushed her sleeve back down. 'I don't really give a fuck what you think, asshole. Get the hell out of my face.'
She walked around the counter, heading toward the door. Jeffrey expected her to leave, but she stopped.
He tried, 'You're her mother. Nothing will ever change that.'
She kept her back to him, her hand on the glass door. 'You wanna know what kind of mother I am?' She shook her head, disgusted. 'I promised I'd leave them alone, but I was broke, twitching so bad it hurt. I went over to the house, begged Hank for some money. He gave it to me, and I-' she took a deep breath. 'I was backing up the car, not looking where I was going, and I ran right over her, right in front of her sister and that pudgy little girl from up the street. You know about that? You know I blinded my own daughter?'
Jeffrey couldn't fathom that kind of guilt.
'Cops banged me up the next day for holding. There was some other stuff on my sheet – some bad checks, a couple of priors. The judge came down on me hard. Me and Hank, we figured the girls would be better off thinking I was dead instead of knowing what I really was.'
'Still-'
'Mister, giving up those babies was the only good thing I ever did in my life. Don't take that away from me.'
She pushed open the door and walked out, leaving Jeffrey alone with Lena 's things.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Lena sat in a wheelchair beside Hank's bed, holding his hand with her good one. His skin was dry, his fingers like sticks that wouldn't bend. He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't return her grip. At first, she thought he was mad, but she was slowly beginning to realize that he was ashamed. If he was talking to her, he would've said something about his own pride ruining him. He had been almost arrogant about his recovery from addiction, but it had only taken one needle to get him hooked again. His body was ravaged from the drugs he had taken. The ones the doctors had prescribed were doing their best to counteract the withdrawal, but there was nothing they could really do for his depression.
Mostly, the two of them just stayed like this, Lena holding his hand, Hank staring out the window, until the nurses came and told them both to get some rest. Lena didn't talk much because there wasn't really anything to say.
'Doing okay?' the nurse asked, coming in to check all the tubes and machines Hank was hooked up to. She was a nice woman, but her cheerfulness grated and her voice was loud enough to wake the dead.
'Fine,' Lena told her, coughing.
The nurse shot her a look of concern. 'Did you do your breathing exercises this morning?'
'Yes, ma'am,' Lena answered.
She smiled, patting Hank's hand. 'See how good your niece is being, Mr. Norton?' Her voice was even louder when she talked to Hank, probably because he never responded.
She asked Lena, 'How's your hand doing?'
Lena held up her right hand, which was tightly bandaged. 'Doing okay. The doctors say I should be able to get full movement back.'
'Of course you will,' the nurse said, relentlessly positive. 'Just a few more minutes with your uncle, okay? You both need to get some rest.' She wagged her finger in warning. 'I'll check up on you!'
The door snicked closed, and Hank mumbled, 'Sure is damn loud enough.'
Lena felt so relieved to hear him speak that she couldn't respond.
His voice was rough when he asked, 'You really doing those exercises, girl?'
'Yes.'
'I never could tell when you were lying.'
'Me, either.'
Hank took a deep breath and let it go slowly.
She said, 'Tell me about my mother.'
He smiled. 'Which story do you want to hear?' He thought she was playing the old game Sibyl and Lena had made up when they were little.
'The true one, Hank. The one where she lived.'
His eyes watered all the time now, so she couldn't tell if he was crying. 'She always loved you girls. That never stopped.'
'She blinded Sibyl.'
If he was surprised, she could not tell. His face was still turned away from her. 'She came to the house looking for money. She was out of her mind with grief when it happened. I got her out of there, took the blame when the cops rolled up, said it was all my fault. I couldn't let you hate your own mother like that. I wanted you to love her, love the memory of her.'
'What happened to her?' Lena asked. 'How did she die?'
His head jerked around. He was obviously shocked by the question. There was almost panic in his eyes, as if he could not decide what to tell her.
'It's okay,' she soothed. 'I'm not blaming you. I'm not angry. I just need to know the truth. Just tell me the truth.'
Hank's throat visibly tightened. He pressed his lips together as if to force back the words that wanted to come. He had never been a man to dwell on memories, maybe because none of his were good.
'Hank, tell me,' Lena coaxed. 'Tell me this one time and I'll never ask you again. I think after all this time I deserve to know how my mother died.'
He stared back at the ceiling as if to collect himself. When he finally answered, he spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. 'Car accident.'
'Fred Bart told me that she's in a better place.'
Hank was quiet again, thinking it over. 'Losing your daddy, and then
