twenty

My mother and I returned to Hilltop with ten minutes to spare before curfew. We pulled into the lot just as the service-challenged receptionist left for the day.

My mother wiggled her fingers politely in a halfhearted wave. “That one hates me,” she said, flashing her most disingenuous smile.

“Happy birthday to your daughter,” the receptionist replied.

I matched my mother’s smile and said, “Thanks for remembering.” Then I turned to my mother. “I said it was my birthday.”

“Then you’ll need to come get me again next weekend so I can take you birthday shopping.”

“I’m sure Dr. Grovit will be able to get you a pass for the weekend. Your medical coverage only applies if you are in residence through the treatment period, but Dr. Grovit talks a good game.”

My mother crossed her fingers and gave me a kiss. “I know, but I didn’t realize how much I wanted out of here until our field trip today.”

“We have to be careful,” I reminded her. “We could find something awful.” I hesitated as I thought about Loose Lizzy, the department floozy. “If Dr. Wilson was right about the missing medications, this Liz James could have been a drug addict to boot.”

My mother let out a whopping laugh. “Do I need to point out the irony? You were raised by a substance abuser.”

She had me there. We were, of course, having this conversation in the parking lot of a rehab facility. “True,” I admitted. “And you got yourself knocked up too.”

“I did indeed,” she said proudly. “Basically, I did everything wrong, and you still turned out fine.”

I considered my mother’s assessment of the situation alongside my father’s generational DNA studies. My father suspected that nurture had more impact than nature. In the field of epigenetics, DNA could be manipulated by a subject’s surroundings. To prove his hypothesis, my father had separated Teddy and Frank at birth, placing Frank in a low socioeconomic environment with uneducated parents. Yet Frank had thrived and if my mother was right, a child produced by me and my brother might have the DNA chops to weather a disadvantaged household.

A thread of hope.

We hugged goodbye and made plans for the weekend. With Frank’s help, we hoped to locate Lizzy James quickly. It wasn’t brain surgery. This woman was either raising my child or she wasn’t.