Our sheets were thrown down on the floor. These were bagged up and taken from a near by Motel 6 where my mother used to work hours upon hours sweeping...and cleaning up other peoples messes.Her excuse at home was, "Why bother. It's just going to be like that the next time. You kids clean it up yourself if you want something clean."None of us ever bothered cleaning it up because we were too young to know how. Our father, God bless his soul, was a ruthless, cheapass, drunk as my mother used to put. "Mom...I mean Helen, of course," I stumbled a response. I had notspoken to my mom since the swap except for a few 'hellos' across thefence. I suppose it was inevitable that we would talk eventuallysince they were friends.My mom was in her work suit and was clearly on her lunch break. Sheordered a coffee and I was shocked as she produced a pack ofcigarettes of her own."Helen! I thought you had given up?" I exclaimed."Come on Jan, you know I just told Michael that to keep him happy,"she laughed.. More

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