“You think I don’t know what you’re doing with my daughter on those nights,” she asked, pointing her beer at me. “You think I’m some stupi... old woman who doesn’t have a clue? How the hell do you think Marsha came to be?” Another long swig and stared at me as she waited for a response.Holy fuck, how was I supposed to reply to that? Yes, ma’am, your daughter and I get drunk and fuck our brains out? Not hardly, but denial would be totally foolish and might piss her off. She didn’t seem pissed off,. Three worrisome weeks at a boarding house in New York’s notorious Five Points section left Rose with fingernails gnawed down to nubs. On that April morn, she tied her long, auburn hair into a neat bun, bundled her few possessions in a sack and bid farewell to the boarding house, praying never to return. The streets of New York stank of such rot and disease that Rose feared that even if she scrubbed her skin raw with the strongest soap she’d still carry the stink on her. With a note from her. More

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