He tilted my face up so he could look at it. ‘Are you okay, Livy? I saw that asshole hit you. I just got here and I didn’t know you were coming.�... ‘I’m okay, Talbot, just take me home. Stop calling me ‘Livy’,’ I begged. He had ridden his motorcycle, and I had to make him stop once on the way back to my apartment so I could puke. He held my head while I heaved my guts up, and cleaned me up with his handkerchief. I mean, who carries a handkerchief these days? I don’t remember going into the. "I know we've just been letting Mom 'get over it' and giving her our support. We need to think of a way to be more -- I guess it would be causative or proactive -- instead of reactive. We need to find a way to make her feel more her own person, more special, not just the effect or reaction of what happened to her. Can we get a plot going, a conspiracy, to help her become more herself than she's ever been?"I gave her a hug back. "You are her brilliant daughter. I agree; it's time we took some. More

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