"He isn't worth it," her mother said bitterly, from her rocking chair. "And you won't be able to find anything to help him. The boy's doomed."
"Shut up, mom. I have to try." Jenni picked up the top book and was gone.
Silence reigned in the small apartment for a while. Then the chair creaked loudly, as the old woman stood up, and walked with trembling steps to the kitchen table.
She gathered up a handle of papers in age-spotted hands, and walked them over to the fireplace, one of their few luxuries. She had protested the extra rent money for an apartment with a fireplace, but Jenni had insisted that her old bones needed the warmth. Now, with Jenni at work and the child in the hospital, the apartment was cold and lonely. The old woman had been glad of the crackling flames.
She began feeding the pages into the fire, muttering softly under her breath. "These for the bastard who left me. He promised he'd take care of me forever, promised promised promised!" The papers caught quickly, fire racing along their edges. She held the pages as long as possible, making sure they burnt completely, then let them drop, to lie curled and glowing blue-green flame until they burnt away to ash. "And these for the bastard who left her. My angel, my delight. He had the face of an angel, but his heart was black, black as the ashes. Seduced my little girl, my heart. Left her poor and pregnant, and where were all his promises then?" The old woman grew more frenzied, tearing the pages before tossing them into the fire. Soon the loose sheets were all gone, and she turned to the books.
She tore out the pages, ignoring the stamped words, "Property of the Yale Library." She fed them furiously into the now blazing fire, in great handfuls, and her muttering had grown to a screech. "These for that bastard boy he left her saddled with. Cost us our friends, cost Jenni her education, cost more to feed and clothe than we have! She used to wear such pretty dresses, and I would braid her silky hair, and tie it with a blue silk ribbon. Face of an angel, but it's his father's face and his father's heart. Heart of a devil, and he belongs in hell. And soon, oh, soon he'll be there, and my Jenni, my love, will be free!" The old woman staggered partway through her task, suddenly exhausted, and sank to the floor, book bindings scattered around her.
"Free, my little Jenni. And we will wear beautiful dresses, and go to fine parties, and maybe someday we'll go to college. You'd like that, wouldn't you, my Jenni?"