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They talked for hours about the last few years of their lives. She told him about her abusive father: how she and her mother had been forced out onto the streets, her mother dying of the cold the same year. Christie had found her and had not been able to wake her. She had been forced to grow up alone. She could not trust anyone. He told her about the car crash in which his wife and child had died, how he could think of it only as his fault, for working late. If he had been home to nip out for milk, Lisa would not have had to take Anna in the car with her. Dead, they had looked cold and lonely. Three nights ago, Christie had looked the same. He never wanted her to look like that again. She should have been resting, but they talked until the sun rose, then fell asleep, John sitting in his chair with his hand in hers. A nurse walked in to check on Christie, saw they were finally sleeping, smiled, and turned away. Christie was allowed to leave the hospital the next day. They did not. "Trish threw her arms around my neck and thanked me. Tamara happened to walk up. I could see her expression was one of puzzlement and possible jealousy. I held up my hand and motioned her to go back downstairs."Trish, why don't you take Stephanie home and relax? Jerry will probably want to see you since you were gone since Saturday." You're right. I like Jerry but he is not what I need. I need someone who can go at least two days without a beer." I like Jerry, but he is a blue-collar redneck. You have stepped into a white-collar job with a very good future. Maybe you ought to hang out at the country club and meet someone with goals." The truth hurts, but it is the truth. Thanks John. You truly are a friend."I kissed her lightly and told her not to worry. I left her there and went downstairs. Tamara was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and motioned me to the study."What the hell was going on up there?" Relax," I said and then told her the whole story."That little bitch!".
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