that she should pull herself together long enough to halfway explain to her mother what had happened. But she knew her mother would be there if and when she could bring herself to talk about it. For now, the world was too painful to exist in. For the next three days she had stayed in her room lying mutely on the bed, trying to piece her jumbled thoughts back together. Her mother had checked in on her periodically, bringing her meals to her on a tray. Chandra had managed to review sketchy details of her past week and a half, but it was still far too agonizing to talk about.
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The tears were streaming down her face as the dam cracked and a slow healing process finally began. For thirty minutes Chandra sobbed away all the tension, frustration, and heartachethe bitterness and pain literally pouring out of her. At last, when there were simply no more tears left, she stood up, wiped her nose, went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then walked calmly down the stairs to join her mother. It was overshe had to go on living.
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''Well," her mother said, turning off the small, electric hand mixer she was using. "Welcome back, darling."
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"Thanks, Mom, I'm going to be okay now." She crossed the kitchen and sat down at the Early American kitchen table.
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"Would you like a cup of hot tea?" Margo asked, resuming her work with the mixer, trying to ignore the swollen eyes and hiccupping sobs that escaped occasionally from her daughter.
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"You don't have to be thirsty to enjoy a cup of tea." Margo reached under the cabinet and extracted two round cake pans. She began to rub shortening in them, then dusted each with a fine coating of flour. "It would make you feel better," she encouraged lightly.
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"It doesn't matter, Mom. If you want a cup, I'll drink one with you." Chandra blew her nose again, her fingers still trembling from the violent emotions she had just experienced.
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"Good. As soon as I get this in the oven, I'll make us one." She poured the thick, creamy chocolate batter into the pans.
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