Tina looked at the pile of paperwork. She worked out that for every inch of paperwork there were 50 kids that needed homes or protection from someone. She had cried once over it, having closed the door to her newly appointed office. It felt right doing it but she cursed herself. She had felt weak. Powerless. The weak Tina Kenard didn’t live here anymore, she told herself. She had made Bette see that why couldn’t she make herself see it too. She thumbed through the photograpghs of the various children she was trying to have placed. She glanced over the typing on the computer screen glowing from the overuse since 8 that morning. She measured the paperwork piling up in her in tray and the small amount in her out tray. It was good to be working again, she thought. It’s good that I’m helping people, too. But why does the world have to be so hard to handle?

Aimlessly Tina plucked at the keyboard before resting her hands on her stomach. I haven’t done this in a while, she thought. All the time when Angelica was in her womb she rested her hands there hoping to feel her move. Wanting that connection, that spirit in her baby to reach out to her. When she saw her, held her for the first time, in the prescence of her family and not just her lover, everything clicked. Everything but one thing. The connection. She loved her daughter but where was it? Where was the click? Where were the pieces to fall into place?

She breast fed her untill she could pump hoping it would come. Her deep affection rising for her daughter, yes I do love her. She is a symbol, she thought, of our happiness. Our togetherness. Bette and I will love eachother and we will love her. I will love her, always. Can I be a good mother? Will I be? A thousand questions circled through her mind before she cursed herself again for being weak. NO, she told herself. That Tina is gone. I create my life now. I will love whom I love and be who I will be. Tonight, she though, I will be a lover and a mother. I will be strong.