24 Steps
Part Eleven
By Carolina
super_carolina1@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: All I need is one Luka, but I don't own him, so I have to settle for the inflatable doll.

Author's notes: The usual apologetic notes apply. Well, after I had everything written, my computer went bonkers and I lost everything, so I had to write the entire fic from the start. Imagine my anger. Well, it's not as good as the original, but I hope you like it all the same. Serves me right for writing so much in one chapter. Feedback makes me write faster ;o)

Five little speckled frogs sat on a little speckled log, eating delicious bugs. Then the speckled mother frog jumped on the log suddenly, causing the log to tip over and making all the speckled frogs fall off.

Abby closed the door behind her and leaned into it for a while, trying to prevent all those thoughts with torches and pitchforks from invading the room. Marissa was still sleeping soundly on her bed, and Abby approached hers slowly, sitting down and feeling the coldness of her sheets penetrate the fabric of her jeans. She used her hand to remove some hair from her face, but there was no hair there, so she just rested her hand on her forehead.

She could still hear Maggie. Even thought everything was quiet, she could still hear her in her head. "I need to see Abby, please. I need to see her." Somehow it never was, "I want to see Abby," or, "I came to see Abby." "I need to see Abby." I need. It was always a need, as if Abby was a drug Maggie needed to get a temporary fix of. Once she did, she disappeared until withdrawals came back. It was a need to seek Abby out and make her life miserable. It suddenly occurred to her that she came from a family of addicts. Abby was addicted to alcohol. Eric was addicted to airplanes. Maggie was addicted to misery.

Abby was misery.

The most surprising feeling was always the same. And it wasn't the feeling, but the fact that it still kept coming back. How long does it take to get used to having a Bipolar mother? But this was it. This was it. This was the same old speech she told herself. "This is it," said 18 year old Abby when her mother made a scene at her prom. "This is the last time," said 22 year old Abby when her mother got drunk on her graduation. "This has got to stop," said 27 year old Abby on her wedding day, when Maggie insulted her in laws. "I can't do this again," said 31 year old Abby when her mother showed up at the hospital.

This was always it, wasn't it. Was this it, Abby?

She let out a quiet sigh, and stood up from her bed. You know that feeling at the bottom of the stomach when something overwhelming is going to happen? Like when the roller coaster is going up, and up, and up, and suddenly there's nothing except that feeling that you are falling and nothing can save you? She opened the door to her room and walked out, not feeling sad, or weak, or even vulnerable. She was strong, strong with anger.

Somehow the stairs were steeper now, or maybe it was the fact that the roller coaster was going down.

Her legs trembled. "Stop it," she scolded herself, punching her thigh as she walked along.

Maggie was wearing one of those dresses she made for herself the last time she was in Chicago, with a fabric Abby was beginning to think she had stolen, wouldn't be the first time. This time, though, she had the decency of wearing a jacket over her shoulders, and the shoes were actually of normal height. She was carrying that big bag, though, probably to gather every piece of junk she could find because, "It could be useful someday."

She wasn't screaming, or crying, or even shaking, but merely leaning against the desk and having meaningless conversation with Marci, most likely to persuade the old receptionist to let her in, like the time her and Eric were little and Maggie told the school secretary Abby's father had died, only to be allowed into the school and make a scene in front of everyone because Abby left home without washing the dishes.

Abby stared at her for a while, with a blank expression on her face and her arms crossed in front of her. Sometimes when she was little she went to bed wishing Maggie would mistake a green light for a red and be hit by a car. Sometimes she hoped the cops would barge into the house and arrest Maggie, give her a life sentence for being sick. Sometimes she wished Maggie was being serious when she threatened to kill herself, so her and Eric could go back to Minnesota and live with her dad and they would never talk about Maggie again, one big happy family.

She was wishing that again. It was the only way this would stop.

Maggie suddenly laughed out loud, throwing her head back and glancing Abby's way for a moment. She turned serious, and dropped her bag on the floor, putting her hand to her mouth as if she had just seen the angel of death. "Abby," she whispered, but Abby didn't move.

Maggie ran over, and with shaking fingers ran her hands through Abby's face, and rested them on her daughter's shoulders. She forced her into an embrace, one Abby pulled back from immediately, the smell of Chloe perfume burning her nostrils.

"What are you doing here?" Abby asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, look at you, honey, you're all skin and bones," Maggie said with a smile, her voice trembling.

"Who told you I was here?" Abby repeated in the same tone.

Maggie wiped a tear off her eye, always the thespian. "Honey, I was worried about you, and I needed to see you, Abby."

"You can't be here," Abby said firmly.

Maggie grabbed Abby's arms again, "I'm your mother, Abby, I have a right to know."

"Know what?!" Abby snapped. "That your daughter's an alcoholic? That she was sober for five years and now has to spend a month in rehab?" she asked, not expecting an answer, not even wanting one. "Thanks for the visit." She turned around and walked off.

Maggie didn't move, didn't cry, didn't call out. She just looked at Abby as she walked away.

Abby stopped.

Maggie took that cue to walk closer, almost but not touching her daughter. "Do you want me to make a scene, Abby? Because I won't."

Abby just stood there, with her arms crossed and her head dropped. She was looking at an ant as it made its way from one side of the room to the other, carrying something white over its head, probably a piece of bread.

The big wooden door suddenly opened, and the quietness of the room was disturbed. "Maggie? Are you ok?"

Abby turned around, to see an average man of average height and average looks looking their way.

Maggie turned as well, "Yeah, I'll be right there, honey," she said sweetly.

The man closed the door and walked out. Abby laughed sarcastically, and shook her head in disbelief. "How many does that make, Maggie?"

Maggie turned serious, concern gone from her face. "I'm not going to let you do this to me, Abby. I have been working hard these past few months to better myself and I won't let you drag me down."

"Better yourself," Abby smiled mirthlessly and sarcastically. Flashes of all the men Maggie had dated came to her mind, it was a long flash. After her father left, Maggie made it her mission to find her kids a new dad. New was definitely a criteria, and the only one. Tall men, small men, white men, black men, men who had been in prison, men who were devoted to the Bible. They never seemed to be on the house for long, though. School was like a Motel 6 for Abby, because she spent most of her time sleeping on her desk. Poor little Abby can't tell her teachers that she got little sleep because Maggie's moans kept her up all night. Because her mother was having sex with a man who never seemed to be there in the morning.

She was sure the trend continued, only the good thing was that she couldn't hear it anymore. Still, God bless the soul of that poor man.

She looked down again, feeling the conversation was over, or rather the chapter was closed. Maggie had other plans.

"Abby listen to me. You want to blame me for everything that has gone wrong in your life? Go ahead. You want me to be the reason why your marriage failed and why you drink. Fine. But that doesn't give you the right to judge me and whatever I do with my life," Maggie said very firmly.

Abby smiled again, "I don't care about your life, Maggie." She turned around with a defying look, "Just keep it away from mine." She heard Maggie release a sigh, and heard something else.

"Abby? Is everything ok?" Renee asked as she joined the picture.

Abby turned around, giving Renee a fake smile, "Yeah, everything's great."

Maggie looked at Abby intensely, and then turned to Renee with a broad smile. "Hi, I'm Maggie, Abby's mother," she extended her hand.

"Oh," Renee said in an exclaim, looking at Abby, who had her head down. She then shook Maggie's hand a little hesitantly, "I, I'm Renee, Abby's sponsor," she said, not wanting just how much information Abby wanted her to divulge.

Abby finally looked up, "Maggie was just leaving." She looked at Renee and then gave Maggie a serious look, "Right?"

Renee looked at Maggie, who was about to protest, and then at Abby. "Actually," she said, interrupting Maggie. "Abby, can I talk to you for a second?" she motioned her to step to the side.

Abby looked at Maggie, who had a pained expression on her face, and then at Renee, who gave her an encouraging look. She let out a sigh and shook her head, and Renee immediately guided her away. "I didn't ask her to come, she just showed up. She always does that, I don't even..."

"Shh, calm down, Abby. It's ok," Renee cooed when Abby crumbled once they were out of sight.

"She always does that," Abby repeated, pacing around and taking long breaths.

"I know," Renee said, rubbing Abby's arm. "Listen, Abby, I know this is hard, but I really think it's time for you to deal with her."

"I have," Abby said exasperatedly.

"No, you haven't. You have to come to terms with this," Renee explained.

Abby stopped pacing, and looked at her sponsor with a serious look on her face. "That's never gonna happen."

"I know you think that, but you have to let her know how you feel," Renee said.

Abby shook her head, "She knows how I feel."

"No, she knows you hate her. That might be true, although I don't think it is." She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, "Abby, do you know why she keeps coming back?"

Because she likes making my life miserable? Because she's insane? Because she likes the attention? Because she can't see other people being happy? Because she God decided to create a little creature called Abby Lockhart so he could test all the pain of the world on her? All of these reasons were thought, none were spoken.

Renee didn't wait for an answer. "Because of that. Because she thinks you hate her." She looked at her friend for a moment. "Abby, the other day my little girl came home, and when I tried to help her with her homework she told me that she could do it herself, because from now on she has decided she doesn't need me to tell her what to do. I couldn't sleep that night. You have no idea how much that hurts a mother. Imagine how much more it would destroy you to know your kids hate you. A mother can't die knowing that somewhere there's a daughter who hates her guts. She's here because she wants to change that. There's only one person making that impossible," she said.

Abby looked at Renee, and then towards the main desk, where Marci was peeking her head out of the desk area, trying to catch up on the gossip. "Did you see him?" Abby asked absentmindedly. "He has no idea what's waiting for him. First comes love, then comes marriage, then Maggie changes her mind and breaks his heart."

Renee looked at what Abby was looking at, "Don't change the subject. Forget about him, men are resilient. This is about you. What are you gonna do for you, Abby?"



Luka didn't even wait until his patient was out the door before he threw the chart on the desk and rubbed his temples gently. Kerry went home early, which meant that it was his turn to deal with all the crazy admissions, and all the crazy staff members. Luckily, everyone was behaving today, yet he was exhausted.

"Dr. Kovac?"

Randi's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked at her with a question in his eyes, his left hand resting on the keyboard of the computer.

Randi sat on her chair, her eyes engrossed in the latest issue of Vogue. She took her time while she made a bubble with her gum. "Some guy called for you."

Luka stared at her, waiting from more, but apparently Randi wasn't in a talkative mood, for once. "Some guy?" he finally asked.

"Mario or something," Randi said, still browsing through the magazine.

Luka was beginning to get a little exasperated. "I don't know any Marios."

Randi let out a sigh of annoyance, and put the magazine down to look around the desk area. She finally found a post-it on her thigh, and peeled it of to bring it forward. "Don Burke from the Marriott called, tell Dr. Kovac."

Luka grabbed the note from her hands and read it also, then crumbled it and threw it away.

Randi gave him a questioning look, but decided not to let the Grouch ruin her day, so she went back to her horoscope. Cancer: This is the month for you to make some economical investments. The moon is in alignment with Mars, making it a perfect time to meet that special someone. Excellent.

Carter let out a sigh and threw a chart on the desk, adding more to the pile. If Kerry was there, she would have them all neatly stacked on the rack, but she wasn't, so the front desk was a big mess. He met Luka by the computer. "Hey."

Luka looked up, "Hi."

"Are you going home soon?" Carter asked.

Luka looked at his watch, the soft light of the computer screen illuminating his face. "In a couple of hours." He looked up at Carter, "Do you have plans?"

Carter curled his mouth, "Yeah, actually, I have a date with Georgia."

"Not anymore you don't," Randi jumped in.

Carter gave her a questioning look as she began frantically searching for something. He finally spotted a small yellow paper on her back and peeled it off. "Georgia something called, has to go home, can't make it tonight, tell Dr. Carter, pick up my diaphragm..."

Randi snapped the paper away before Carter could finish.

"Why did she have to go home?" Carter asked, confused.

"Do I look like a fortune teller?" Randi quipped.

Carter moaned and turned to Luka, "I guess I don't have plans anymore."

Luka looked up, "It's Saturday night," he lamented.

"It's Saturday night!" Dave exclaimed as he walked into the desk area.

"At least someone's taking the news well," Carter said.

Dave leaned on the counter, next to Luka, who was still on the computer. "Why the long faces?" He looked from Luka to Carter, to Randi.

"Carter got dumped," Randi said calmly.

"No, I didn't get dumped, our plans got cancelled," Carter said defensively.

Dave nodded, "What's wrong with him?" he pointed to Luka.

Randi looked up again, "Abby, and I think he's getting evicted."

Luka glanced up at that, and gave her a frown.

"Oh come on," Dave said. "That's no reason to be so gloom." He looked at Carter, "So, your girlfriend dumped you," then at Luka, "So yours is miles away and now you're homeless. It's not that bad."

"She didn't dump me, she had to go home," Carter said.

"I'm not a hobo," Luka added.

"Whatever, come on," Dave insisted and looked at Randi, "Randi, what do you do when your boyfriend's out of town?"

"Go out with his brother," Randi said casually.

"See?" Dave said.

Luka seemed to consider that for a moment, "Well, I could call Abby's brother, but I don't think I can handle a long distance relationship."

"Fine, fine," Dave said, "You don't have to be sarcastic about it. But what do you say, boys night?"

"With you?" Luka asked incredulously.

"Last time I went out with you, Dave, I had to make a phone call to my sister at 4 in the morning with a quarter I borrowed from a guy named Bubba, who is still leaving messages on my answering machine," Carter said as he read a chart.

"I didn't know those women were prostitutes," Dave said defensively.

Carter looked up, "Dave, they had their rates tattooed to their arms."

"For your information those could have easily been quotes for the Bible," Dave said.

"I doubt there's something on the Bible about 'Thou shall charged 20 dollars for a holy blow job'" Carter quipped, making Luka smirk.

"Ok, ok, so I did know they were prostitutes, forgive me for trying to get you laid," Dave said. "No prostitutes tonight, I swear. What do you say?" he asked again.

Luka looked at Carter, who had the same doubtful look on his face. He finally let out a sigh, "No dancing," he said and walked away.

"And no women," Carter followed.

"Fine, no dancing, no women, I'll bring the CandyLand," Dave said.

Randi approached him, "Wow, a date with Tom Pity and the Heartbreakee, sorry I can't make it," she said sarcastically.

"Now. By the end of the night those two will be partying like it's 19-, um, 2000 and," he shook his head in confusion. "They'll be partying, ok?"

Randi reached into her bag and gave him a camera, "Here's my Polaroid. I'll give you 100 dollars for a naked Luka. 150 for both and 200 for naked Luka and Carter in a compromising yet delicious position. I'll throw you a bonus if they're in the bathroom."

Dave took the camera and gave her a suggestive look, "How much if I'm in the picture also?"

Randi smiled mischievously, "Rubba dub dub, three men in a tub."



Abby watched carefully as everyone walked out of the cafeteria, ready to go to their respective meetings. It was beginning to set outside, but she didn't notice that. She hadn't noticed anything from the time her mother came in and she still was numbed. She spent all day in her room, knowing Maggie was somewhere around the center, probably talking to every single person about her daughter, telling people embarrassing stories about baby Abby. But this time Abby simply didn't care.

She felt someone sit down next to her, and was about to tell Ben to fuck off when she found someone else instead.

Harold gave her a warm smile, and extended his hand, "I'm Harold."

"Abby," Abby said, but didn't shake his hand. She wasn't trying to be rude, but her arms were just not answering to all the messages her brain was sending them.

Harold stared at her for a while, and then looked forward, to whatever it was she was looking. "Look," he started. "I know this is, hard, but Maggie is not lying this time, she really is taking her medication."

Abby looked at him for a moment, her mouth curled, almost forming an S. Then she went back to watching everyone leave.

Harold let out a sigh, "You know, I'm Bipolar too."

Abby nodded, "That's... very convenient."

"We met in New York," he continued. "Maggie wanted to show Calvin Klein some of her designs, and the receptionist called security. I knew what was going on, so I took her outside, and calmed her down."

Abby nodded again, craving a cigarette like she never had before. "That was very nice of you, Harold. Sounds like love at first sight."

Harold smiled, "We're both taking our medication. I make sure she takes hers, and we have that log." He paused for a moment, and then continued, "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

Abby smiled, and looked at him, "You're here to ask for permission to marry her?"

Harold chuckled, "No, I already asked."

Abby nodded. She looked down at her fingers, and then at Harold, "Well, I should go now." She stood up, knowing this wasn't the last time she'd see this guy, and walked away from him. Indeed, God bless that poor soul.



Dave peeked his head out the window and took a deep breath of fresh air. "Do you smell that? There's women around here, I can taste it."

"Dave, please keep your eyes on the road," Carter said, trying to reach for the wheel.

Dave finally sat back. "How you doing back there, Kovac?" he asked as he looked at his friend through the rear view mirror.

Luka looked around the seat, trying to wipe all the empty containers of junk food away. "Just familiarizing myself with your video collection." He reached inside a bag and took out some videos. "Girls Gone Wild," he read.

"It's, a documentary," Dave said sheepishly.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Carter asked.

"Some place I'd like to call: you'll see." Dave pulled his car in front of a loud building, filled with people to over saturation and women of all shapes and sizes, but still the same small amount of clothing, pranced around.

"No way," Carter said.

"Oh no, I know the bouncer, we won't have to stay in line," Dave said.

Luka shook his head, "I'm not going in there."

"Ditto," Carter said.

"Well, no one who still uses the word 'ditto' will ever get in there. So just act like you're cool," Dave said.

"Dave, we agreed this was not what we wanted to do," Carter reiterated.

"Dave! It's Dave!" a woman who was not visible yelled, and then all of a sudden the car was surrounded by women, rocking it back and forth.

Carter and Luka pulled the locks as they tried to pull the windows up quickly.

"My club fan," Dave said humbly over the cries of all the women.

"Let's go!" Luka yelled.

Dave let out a sigh, and started driving away. "Congratulations, you've just saved yourselves of a week of sex."



"Thank you, thank you so much for doing this," Maggie said as she walked with Renee down a hall.

Renee smiled, "Where's your friend?"

"He's eating something. I-I really don't know how to thank you. What are we doing now?" Maggie asked quickly.

"We're going to a session, we have these every night, and sometimes we have guests, you are ours tonight," Renee said.

Maggie turned serious, "In front of everyone?"

"Yeah," Renee said casually. She opened the door, and Maggie peeked her head inside where she saw around 10 people in a circle, all looking at the two chairs in the middle. Abby sat in one, her head dropped, hair cascading down to her shoulders. That made Maggie even more nervous, as if she was in a hearing. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

"Maggie?" a middle aged woman stood up. "I'm Beth. Why don't you sit down?"

Maggie nodded nervously, and proceeded to take the seat in front of Abby, facing her daughter. She put her hand on Abby's thigh, but the tensed muscles she found there made her retrieve.

Renee approached Beth, "You don't mind if I hang around, do you?"

Beth smiled, "No, take a seat." She put her cup of coffee down, and sat in a chair in the middle, facing the two women. "Ok, let's get started."



Dave pushed an old door to an old bar and stepped inside with incredulous eyes, "You've got to be kidding me."

Carter and Luka decided to ignore him and they walked out back where there was an available table. The bar was softly illuminated by old lamps, and the music was soft, yet not a soft genre. Some men were playing pool, other darts, the rest sitting by the bar. It was almost a depressing sight, if it wasn't for the good camaraderie.

An old man came to the table, wearing a white apron, a towel over his shoulder, and a pencil pinned between his ear and his head. "What can I get you fellows?"

"Draft please," Luka said.

"Can I get a coke?" Carter added.

Dave, who was busy looking around, finally stared at the man, "Corona, with lemon."

"Got it," the bartender said and walked away.

Carter looked at a standing Dave, and pushed the last available sit with his foot. "Sit down, you're not gonna grow any taller."

Dave sat down on the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. "So, do you guys come here often?"

"Not really," Carter said.

"Oh good," Dave said. "I was worried you already knew there's married men in here."

Luka looked around, "So?"

"So?" Dave asked in disbelief. "They're... married. They have wives, some have children. They come here every week to talk about their wives menopause, and then they go home."

Carter chuckled, "You know, Dave, you're 30 years old, you didn't think you'd still go to clubs in your 40's, like those middle aged men who still have motorcycles."

Dave scratched his nose, "Smells like Jean Nate in here." He let out a sigh, and looked at his two friends, "So what are we supposed to do here?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders, "Talk, maybe?"

Dave stared at him for a moment. "That's gotta be the gayest thing I've ever heard."

"You're free to leave if you like," Luka added.

Dave looked at the bartender, "Forget the beer, get me a whiskey. There's no way I'm getting all fruity while I'm sober."



The entire room was filled with an eerie silence, a deadly awkward pause, and if you listened carefully, you could hear Abby's heart pounding loudly on her chest. Maggie looked like she had just been told she had 5 minutes to live, but Abby looked strong, Abby always looked strong. She shifted on her seat, as they all waited for the witness to answer the question.

Maggie took a deep breath.

"Maggie, look at Abby," Beth said.

Maggie looked up slowly, too slowly. She met her daughter's eyes, covered with a thin layer of strength. She began to stammer, and then all of a sudden some incoherent words came out. She stopped. And with a deep breath, she looked at Abby again. "I don't know. I don't know. I," she let out the air of her lungs, "There are some things in life that make you happy. Abby knows that. I always wanted to be an artist, I wanted to draw, and design. When I was little that was the only thing that kept me sane." She paused at the irony of her description. "It still does. But if I take the medication, then I can't draw as well as I can when I'm manic, and if I don't draw well, I get frustrated, and mad."

Bath nodded, "Why mad?"

Maggie let out another sigh, "I can't do anything else. I can't... do math, I never was a good student, or a good daughter. I was never a good wife, I'm not even a good mother." Her voice cracked at that last statement, but she decided to continue. "The only positive comments I receive are about my paintings, everyone likes them. That's the only thing people like about me."

She still looked at Abby, who was looking at her with a blank expression on her face, not even moving.

"And that upsets you?" Beth asked.

Maggie looked at her, "How would you feel, if the only thing you're good at you can't do because you have to take medication? If you take your medication, you're worthless, and if you don't, you're a horrible person."

"So you'd rather be a horrible person?" Beth asked.

Maggie closed her eyes tight, and bit her lip, "If I don't take my medication then I have an excuse to be worthless and horrible, but when I take the medication, I'm still worthless and horrible, only that's just who I am."



"You guys, you guys are great," Dave slurred, grabbing Luka's neck and forcing his friend into an embrace. "Hey, man, I love you, I really do. I mean, I really love you," he chuckled.

Luka smiled, "I love you too, Dave."

"And Carter," Dave looked at his other friend, not taking his hand off of Luka's neck. "I love you too man."

Carter nodded, "That's very nice, Dave."

"I mean, I do, you know. Kerry, Kerry hates me. But you guys, you guys are great," Dave repeated.

"Dave, maybe we should get you a cup of coffee," Luka said with a smile.

"No! I'm having fun," Dave said. "Are you having fun?"

"I always have fun when you declare your undying love for me, Dave," Luka joked.

That sent Dave into a hysterical laughter. "No, man, I don't swing that way," he said.

"I'm starting to wonder how much it takes for you to swing that way, Dave," Carter said, putting the empty bottle of whiskey away.

Dave turned serious, "But you know who I love the most?" he asked Luka.

"Who?" Luka asked, going along.

"I love you, Claire. I-I really do love you," he said very seriously.

Luka looked at Carter, "Think Claire is a girlfriend?"

"Or a tall Croatian man," Carter said.

"But don't worry, we'll, we'll go to Vegas, and get married, and, and, God I love you," Dave kept saying.

"Now that's just sad," Carter said.

"Come on, Dave," Luka said, sitting his friend back down but as soon as he did so, Dave passed out on the table.



"Abby?" Beth asked.

Abby bit her lip inside her mouth, and looked up, "He left when I was 7. September 3th 1976. It was raining, and Eric was crying, he was 6. He told me he had to go away for a while, but that he'd be back on weekends to check up on us. He was wearing a blue shirt, and a green tie, and he smelled of after shave. He had one of those old brown bags with him." She took a breath, "I knew he wasn't coming back, so I asked him to take me with him, but he said no because I had to take care of Maggie and Eric." She sniffed and cleared her throat, "Then a couple of days later Maggie said we were moving to Florida because all of a sudden she wanted to live near the beach, and I spent the rest of my childhood cooking, and cleaning, and praying that my dad would come back to get us, but he never did."

"How did that make you feel?" Beth asked.

Abby gave her a duh look, and then looked down at her fingers, "He was my lifeline, he was the only thing that could make things better. When Christmas came I always went down to the mall and asked Santa to bring my dad back, but every Christmas I woke up and there was nothing under the tree, there was rarely a tree there."

"Maggie?" Beth asked.

Maggie let out a sigh, and shook her head. "I, I- he left. I wanted my kids to have a father..."

"You made us move away from him," Abby interrupted her.

"Abby, let her talk," Beth said.

Maggie watched as Abby looked away in scorn, and continued. "I love my kids, more than anything in the world. I thought I was making a good decision by moving away. I wanted them to start someplace new, away from all that brought so much sadness into our lives. I know I was a bad mother, but that doesn't mean I don't love them."



"So, third date already," Luka said as he tore little pieces of his napkin and threw them into Dave's hair.

"Well, two so far," Carter said.

"How are things going?" Luka asked.

Carter smiled, "I think really well. I really like her, she's fun."

Luka nodded, "Do you... talk a lot?"

Carter took a deep breath, and cleaned his throat, "She doesn't know yet. I mean, I know I should tell her, but it's still early, and I don't wanna scare her away," he admitted.

Dave was drooling on the table, and Luka continued to fill his hair with miniature balls of white paper. "I think it's important that she knows."

"I know," Carter said. "It's just not easy. I mean, I thought that I'd go to rehab, and never crave drugs again, and everything would go back to normal. But now I wake up every morning, and there seems to be bottles of pills everywhere. Then the hospital is full of pain killers." He shook his head, "Well, that doesn't bother me anymore, it's... it's everyone. I know that I did what I did and I have to live with it, but sometimes I feel like people are talking behind by back, and I'm scared that I'll never meet someone because I'll always have to tell her that I'm a drug addict."

Luka nodded, "Well, that shouldn't matter."

"Well, to a degree it doesn't, but it makes it harder. I mean, what did you do when Abby told you she was a drunk?" Carter asked.

Drunk. Luka still hated that word. Why did they have to call her a drunk? Why not something nicer, like a recovering alcoholic? Not that it was nicer, but it didn't sound as accusatory. "Well," he played with the napkin some more. "I... to tell you the truth, when she told me I wasn't listening very well. I was listening, but it was very complicated. Still, I, I don't think I'd let that get in the way."

Carter let a little silence get into the conversation for a moment, for dramatic purposes. He took a sip of the beer he had ordered when he got sick of drinking coke, and put it down. After playing with the label for a while, he looked at Luka, "Do you love her?"

Luka didn't react, but kept staring at the mouth of his beer. There was no doubt in his mind that he could trust in Carter and he wouldn't mock him or tell anyone else. Since Abby had gone to rehab, they had become good friends. Actually, Luka hadn't had a friend like Carter since he lived back home. He had missed that. It's not something you think you crave until you have it again. He had to admit that things were slowly coming to place, one by one. At least in his life.

He cleaned his throat, and raised his eyebrows. "Why do you ask that?"

"It just..." Carter started. "I don't know how men behave back in Croatia, but here only a few would do what you've done for Abby."

"You wouldn't?" Luka asked.

"Of course, she's my friend. I love Abby to death, but, that's different," Carter said.

Luka suddenly wondered why Carter was always asking him things about Abby. She was probably 90% of their conversations. Well, he knew why. Carter wanted to squeeze it out of him, wanted Luka to solve the puzzle. Problem was that a couple of pieces were missing.



"People always point at me and judge me because they don't understand why I don't take care of my own mother," Abby said, already feeling a headache. "Sometimes people forget that I'm allowed to feel a certain way, and act another. Just because she's sick doesn't mean I have to be perfect to save the family. I tried to save the family for years. I changed diapers, I cooked, I cleaned, I did my homework. I always tried to be the perfect daughter, but I never was because Maggie always failed to see that."

"I did see it, Abby," Maggie said.

"You never acknowledged it," Abby said. "I don't care about what you think or don't think, but I had to live with the fact that there was a monster under my bed because I didn't have anyone to scare it away from me. I learned from a boy at school that there was no Santa Claus, and no Easter bunny. And then I had to read a book about menstrual cycles because I had no idea what was happening to my body. Then I had to cook for Eric, and cook for Maggie, and then spend all night seating in front of her door, with my ear glued to it, trying to decide when was the best time to call 911."

Maggie just bit her lip, and looked away.

Abby shook her head again, hitting the armchairs. "I don't think we're going anywhere with this."

Beth decided to ignore that, and leaned forward on her chair, "What do you want from Maggie, Abby?"

Abby thought of that for a moment, or rather just let time pass, because she felt like she couldn't think anymore. "I want my childhood. I want a mother, and I want my father."

"I can't give you that, Abby," Maggie said.

"I just want you to know that's what I want," Abby said. "I don't even know how to be a wife, because I never learned that from my mom. I've been on the pill since I was a teenager because I am terrified of being the mother you were. How can I even love someone when I have no idea what love is?"



"What is love, really?" Carter asked. "I mean, you fall in love, you fall out of love, and the cycle starts again."

"I don't think you ever fall out of love, there's always something that stays there," Luka said.

Carter took a deep breath, "I've never been in love. I, I came close once, but, um, she moved away. I mean, my parents were never around, I don't even know how to be a husband, or how to be a father. What am I going to do when I have kids?"

Luka smiled, "Nothing prepares you for that, Carter."

"I know," Carter said. "But you know what they say about kids picking up these things from their parents."

Luka brushed some paper balls off of Dave's hair, smiling, remembering his own kids and how much he wanted to have that again, at least for a couple of minutes.

"You never answered my question," Carter said, taking another sip of his beer.

Luka still smiled. "It's complicated, Carter. Love has a way of always coming at the worst time possible."

Carter just looked at him, with a knowing look. "That's all I needed to hear." He took the last sip of his beer and set it down. "Dave's right, this is kinda gay."

Luka chuckled, and looked at his watch, "We should go."

"Let me get this," Carter said.

"No, no, I got it," Luka said, reaching for his wallet.

"No, it's ok," Carter said, and reached for Dave's wallet. He dropped some bills on the table, and put the wallet back into Dave's pants, while their friend snored lightly. He looked at Dave for a moment, "Too bad we have a conscience."

Luka stood up, and grabbed one of Dave's arms, "Too bad you don't live with Kerry anymore, we could have them wake up together."

Carter laughed as they both carried Dave out of the bar. "I wonder who's Claire."



Five little speckled frogs fell asleep against each other on a speckled log. But where was the speckled mom?

"I don't want much from Abby. I want her to take care of herself, and I want her to be happy," Maggie said, almost crying. Almost. "I never wanted to be the mother I was, I still don't want to be the mother I am."

"Tell her that," Beth said.

Maggie looked at Abby, who looked drained and lost. "I want you to be happy, honey. If that means I'll have to move to another country, or another planet, I will. I just want you to be happy."

Abby didn't answer.

"Maggie, how do you feel about Abby's drinking?" Beth asked.

Maggie shook her head, "I know that's all my fault, it is." She looked at Abby, "You may not know this, Abby, but you are the pride of the family. With everything that happened, you still managed to pull through, you gave up drinking, you went to med school, you're independent and strong. But sometimes we feel like you like destroying yourself. Why, Abby? You deserve so much more than this," she said.

"Abby?" Beth asked.

Abby bit her lip, tired of this back and forth banter. "That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Beth asked.

"Yes," Abby said. She looked at Maggie, "I loved you most of the time. Most of the time I tried to tell myself that my mother was a sick person, and that she didn't do those things on purpose. I hated you most of the time also. You said that painting was what made you happy and that's why you didn't take your medication. But what about us? We didn't make you happy? I hated you for that."

"I hate myself for that too, Abby," Maggie said. "But I love you, and I love Eric."

Abby shook her head. The cycle begins again.

Beth looked around the room, at everyone's sleepy faces, and she looked at her watch. "Abby, is there anything else you want to tell your mom?"

Abby looked at her lap, playing with her fingers, "Good luck, mom."

Maggie nodded, and everyone began to stand up. Eventually they all left, and Abby and Maggie stayed alone. Abby leaned back on the chair. "He's a nice man, I hope you don't break his heart."

"I have something for you," Maggie said, reaching into her bag. She took out a notebook and put it on Abby's lap. "It's my log. I, filled it out, and..." she shook her head, "I just wanted you to see that I can be a better person. And now I want you to show me that you can too."

Abby opened the notebook, looking inside, all the medication taken written down neatly and detailed in amount and timing.

Maggie stood up, and kissed Abby's head. "Good luck, honey."

I loved you most of the time.

"This is the last one," said 32 year old Abby as her mother walked away.

To be continued...
Carolina