She looked slightly flushed, and he realized she'd had a bit to drink herself. Her eyes smiled as they caught his, a hint of mischief in them."Mark," she said, in a low murmur, "do you remember that time ... in that class, when we were in the back of the theater?"Of course he remembered. He had been reliving it all evening. They'd had a class together -- introduction to dramatic arts or something like that. They had put on a Shakespeare play. What was it? He strained to recall. Yes -- All's Well That Ends Well. He was ... Bertram and she was ... he couldn't remember. They'd had to pretend to kiss at the end. Rehearsal after rehearsal, he'd held her in his arms, and they'd pretended to kiss. At first, they did the "high school actors' kiss" -- chastely putting their faces together with minimal lip contact. But after a while, they'd relaxed and let their lips touch, and then finally, just once, during a run-through for the last evening's performance -- the second of the day -- she had. What's wrong with him? I barely recognize him!" "It feels like he has suffered a severe traumatic event. I can't get past his outer defenses. All I am seeing and hearing is the doctor, the doctor." Truda replied to Angelika. Angelika's eyes went wide as she turned back to Alan. In a soft voice she started again, "Alan? Alan. It's your mother. Please come back to me son. Please, we would be so lost without you. Alan? Come back to me, fight for me, for our family." Angelika's eyes were starting to tear up as she felt so helpless. ‘Again,’ she thought, ‘I am of no use, so weak I can't even help my son!’ Alan's eyes suddenly cleared as the glow stopped. "No mother, not useless, far from it!" Standing Alan walked to Angelika and held her close as her tears coated his shoulder. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you. You have done so much for all of us, thank you son," Angelika said as she held Alan closer feeling his strength. "Well I'm glad you are out of it. What in the hell.
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