“I know,” she said. “And it’s true. She did get me into therapy. Nagged me into it, God bless her. And therapy’s helped me cut a window in my cell. Sometimes I feel like such a fool for not doing it sooner, all those years…” She shifted position suddenly, showing me her complete face. Flaunting it.

Saying nothing about her second marriage. I didn’t pursue it.

She stood suddenly, made a fist, held it in front of her, and stared at it. “I’ve got to convince her, somehow.” Tension blanched the scarred side, marbling it again, bleaching the stripes on her neck. “I’m her mother, for God’s sake!”

Silence. The distant whir of a vacuum cleaner.

I said, “You sound pretty convincing right now. Why don’t you call her in and tell her that.”

She thought about that. Lowered the fist but kept it clenched.

“Yes,” she said. “Okay. I will. Let’s do it.”

She excused herself, opened the door on the rear wall, and disappeared through the doorway. I heard padded footsteps, the sound of her voice, got up and looked.

She sat on the edge of a canopied bed, in an immense off-white bedroom with a muraled ceiling. Mural of courtesans at Versailles, enjoying life before the deluge.

She sat slightly stooped, bad side unprotected, pressing the mouthpiece of a white-and-gold phone to her lips. Her feet rested on plum-colored carpeting. The bed was covered with a quilted satin spread and the phone rested on a chinoiserie nightstand. High crank windows flanked the bed on both sides- clear glass under pleated, gold-fringed valances. Gilt-framed mirrors, lots of lace and toile and happily pigmented paintings. Enough French antiques to put Marie Antoinette at ease.

She nodded, said something, and put the phone back in its cradle. I returned to my seat. She came out a moment later, saying, “She’s on her way up. Do you mind being here?”

“If Melissa doesn’t mind.”

Smile. “She won’t. She’s quite fond of you. Sees you as her ally.”

I said, “I am her ally.”

“Of course,” she said. “We all need our allies, don’t we.”

A few minutes later footsteps sounded from the hall. Gina got up, met Melissa at the door, took her by the hand, and drew her in. Placing both hands on Melissa’s shoulders, she looked down at her solemnly, as if preparing to confer a benediction.

“I’m your mother, Melissa Anne. I’ve made mistakes and been weak and inadequate as a mother, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m your mother and you’re my child.”

Melissa looked at her quizzically, then whipped her head in my direction.

I gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile and shifted my glance to her mother. Melissa followed it.

Gina said, “I know my weakness has put a burden on you, baby. But that’s all going to change. Things are going to be different.”

At the word different, Melissa stiffened.

Gina saw it and drew her close, hugging her. Melissa didn’t fight it, but neither did she yield. “I want us always to be close, baby, but I also want us to live our own lives.”

“We do, Mother.”

“No, we don’t, sweetheart. Not really. We love each other and care about each other- you’re the best daughter a mother could ever hope for. But what we have is too… tangled. We have to untangle it. Get the knots out.”

Melissa pulled away a bit and stared up at her. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, baby, is that going away back east is a golden opportunity for you. Your apple. You earned it. I’m so proud of you- your whole future is waiting and you have the brains and the talent to make the best of it. So take advantage of the opportunity- I insist you take advantage.”

Melissa wriggled free. “You insist?”

“No, I’m not trying to… What I mean, baby, is that-”

“What if I don’t want to take advantage of it?” Melissa’s tone was soft but combative. A prosecutor building the foundation for an assault.

Gina said, “I just think you should go, Melissa Anne.” Some of the conviction had left her voice.

Melissa smiled. “That’s fine, Mother, but what about what I think?”

Gina drew her close once more and pressed her to her breast. Melissa’s face was impassive.

Gina said, “What you think is the most important, baby, but I want to make sure you know what you really think- that your decision isn’t clouded by your worries about me. Because I’m fine, and I’m going to continue to be fine.”

Melissa looked up at her again. Her smile had widened but turned cold. Gina looked away from it while holding tight.

I said, “Melissa, your mother has given a lot of thought to this. She’s certain she can handle things.”

“Is she?”

“Yes, I am,” said Gina. Her voice had risen half an octave. “And I expect you to respect that opinion.”

“I respect all of your opinions, Mother. But that doesn’t mean I have to live my life around them.”

Gina’s mouth opened and closed.

Melissa took hold of her mother’s arms and peeled them off her. Stepping back, she looped her fingers in the belt loops of her jeans.

Gina said, “Please, baby.”

“I’m not a baby, Mother.” Still smiling.

“No. No, you aren’t. Of course you aren’t. I apologize for calling you that- old habits are hard to break. That’s what this is all about- changing. I’m working on changing- you know how hard I’ve been working, Melissa. That means a different life. For all of us. I want you to go to Boston.”

Melissa looked at me, defiant.

I said, “Talk to your mother, Melissa.”

Melissa’s attention swung back to Gina, then to me once more. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on here?”

Gina said, “Nothing, ba- Nothing. Dr. Delaware and I have had a very good talk. He’s helped me clarify things even further. I can see why you like him.”

“Can you?”

Gina started to reply, stammered, and stopped.

I said, “Melissa, this family’s going through major changes. It’s rough for everyone. Your mother’s searching for the right way to let you know she’s really okay. So that you don’t feel obligated to take care of her.”

“Yes,” said Gina. “Exactly. I really am okay, honey. Go out and live your own life. Be your own person.”

Melissa didn’t move. Her smile had vanished. She was wringing her hands. “Sounds like the grown-ups have decided what’s best for little me.”

“Oh, honey,” said Gina. “That’s not it at all!”

I said, “No one’s decided anything. What’s important is that the two of you keep talking- keep the channels of communication open.”

Gina said, “We sure will. We’ll get through it, won’t we, honey?”

She walked toward her daughter, arms out.

Melissa backed away, into the doorway, braced herself by grasping the doorframe.

“This is great,” she said. “Just great.”

Her eyes blazed. She pointed a finger at me. “This isn’t what I expected from you.”

“Honey!” said Gina.

I got up.

Melissa shook her head and held her hands out, palms-front.

I said, “Melissa-”

“Forget it. Just forget it!”

She shuddered with anger and ran out.

I stuck my head out the door, watched her race down the corridor, legs flying, hair flapping.

I considered going after her, then thought better of it and turned back to Gina, trying to conjure up something profound.

But she was in no shape to listen.

Her face had gone ghostly and she was clutching her chest. Mouth open, gasping for breath. Body starting to shake.

The shakes got violent. I rushed to her. She stumbled back, shaking her head, holding me off, her eyes wild.

Reaching into one of the pockets of her dress, she fumbled for what seemed like a very long time, finally pulled out a small L-shaped white plastic inhaler. Inserting the short end in her mouth, she closed her eyes and tried to fasten her lips around the apparatus. But her teeth chattered against the plastic and she had trouble gripping it in her mouth. Our eyes met but hers were glazed and I knew she was somewhere else. Finally she clamped her jaws around the mouthpiece and managed to inhale. Depressed a metal button at the tip of the inhaler’s long end.