Her total dismissal of me, her own flesh and blood, is something that could only be made up in Hollywood. She tries to send me away like I don't matter. Like I'm some casual acquaintance that she just doesn't want to deal with now. I don't matter to her, not one little bit.

"Are you for real?" I stammer.

"Go on home, Rory. Tell Dean I said hello," she says. What kills me is that she's smiling as she says this.

"He doesn't love you, Kathleen. He never has. He's nice to you because he feels guilty. You were his big mistake."

"Shut up," she snarls.

"He thinks you're crazy. He told me that you were a nut case, but I didn't want to believe him. He's right, you are crazy."

This weird shriek comes from her and she lunges for me. Her long red fingernails are splayed out like she aims to impale me or rip my heart out with them.

"Go away, you little bastard."

I stumble backwards as she reaches down and grabs a handful of gravel She hurls it at me. It connects with the side of my face, but I hardly feel it. I should run because God only knows what she'll do next, but I can't. I want her to hurt as bad as I do.

"He loves me, Kathleen. Your Dean cares about me. He couldn't care less if you live or die. I don't care if you live or die. You're a horrible excuse for a human being!"

I take off, because my anger is turning into something else. It's turning into sadness and humiliation. Her incoherent screeches are all that I hear as I run away.

Blood is pounding in my ears. How stupid was I to think I could have a normal relationship with her? She is exactly what my dad said she was. She's empty. Empty of anything good and I hate her.

I'm a good block and a half away when I hear a car horn. The crunch of tires on gravel sounds dangerously close when I hear my name.

"Rory, stop."

I stop in my tracks, ready to turn on her again. Only it isn't her. I should have known it wasn't her. Why would she come after me? I'm not worth the trouble.

Cecilly swerves and pops up on the curb cutting off my escape.

"I hate her," I scream.

"You have every right to be angry and hurt, Rory." Maybe it's her tone or maybe it's the fact she sounds like she's on my side, but whatever it is, it takes all the combustible emotion and neutralizes it.

"How can she not feel anything?"

"Get in, Rory. This area is too dangerous for you to be running around alone and upset."

I get into her car and lay my head against the seat.

"Whoa, she really got you," she says, reaching over to touch my temple and cheek. I feel the slightest sting and wince when she shows me her fingertips smeared with my blood.

"Cissy, what did I do?" I ask. "What did I do wrong?"

Even though Cecilly laughs, it's not a mean one. No, she's never been a hugger or a cheek pincher, but I have no doubt she loves me.

"Let me tell you something, and listen good. You aren't to blame for anything. Your momma and your daddy should never have had you."

"So, I should never have been born."

"No, that's not what I'm saying. You should have been born to someone else. Even so, you weren't, but we had a good family all ready to take you. Your daddy made a selfish decision to keep you."

"He's not so bad, Cissy," I say. I feel the need to defend him. "He's been a good dad."

"I know you love him, Rory. And I know he loves you. But love doesn't pay the bills and no matter how much he loves you, it will never replace the love of a good solid family."

I stare out the window. In the side view mirror I can see my own reflection. There are three or four tiny cuts where the rocks connected with my face. I wait for my reflection to say some smart ass comment, but thankfully it's silent.

My breathing has returned to normal and the bite of the whole Kathleen encounter has dulled enough to where I can think again. "I gotta get back to the library. Thanks, Cecily, for listening to me."

Cecilly ruffles my hair and then does something remarkably un-Cecilly like. She leans over and kisses my cheek.

"You are a good kid, Rory French."




She drops me off at the library and just as she is turning the corner, Charla shows up.

"You get everything done?" Charla asks, as I slip into the front seat.

"Sure did," I say. I feel tired and sluggish now.

"You hungry?"

In truth, all I want to do is go home and crawl under the covers. I just want to pretend this night never happened. But I can tell Charla is in mother-mode and, well, I think I kind of need that right now.

"How about we hit Patterson Deli? I'm in the mood for a Reuben. How 'bout you?"

"Sounds good."

Charla reaches over and pats my arm. With just that one touch I feel better.

First Cecilly and the kiss on the cheek, now Charla and the patting my arm. These are women who could just walk away but don't. The only mark Kathleen leaves on me is from a handful of rocks.