Wednesday wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and padded down the hall with Bubba in tow.  She leaned over the top railing trying to see  if her mother was still in the den but it was hard to tell.  She made her way down the broad staircase and into the den where she found her mother sound asleep on the couch. She woke her up with a little shake.
“Thanks for waking me up.  If I had slept here all night I would have been stiff  tomorrow.  Why are you up?”    Her mother sat up and let Wednesday sit down beside her.
“I just can't sleep, I've tried for 4 hours now.”  Wednesday wiped at her tears.
“Aw, you've been crying, it'll be okay.”  Her mother replied in a soothing tone.
Wednesday put her arm around her mother.  “I've taken benadryl, melatonin, and valerian root but nothing seems to work.  I'm half tempted to try something from the garden.”
	The garden Wednesday was speaking of was a special garden grown initially as a morbid joke.  Some of the plants that were in the garden were deadly nightshade, poison hemlock and castor beans.  Her mother was surprised that she found the seeds and roots so easily online.
“Don't even joke about that.”  Her mother's tone went from soft to stern in a fraction of a second.
“No, poison hemlock at one time was used as a sedative but it was too hard to judge the dosage or form.”  Wednesday sniffled her nose.
“You don't have to cry anymore, I'm right here, it's going to be alright.”  Her mother gave Wednesday a tight embrace and held her for a moment or two.
Wednesday halfway smiled as her mother lead her into the kitchen.  “I think this is a panic attack, a really long one.”
“You've had them all along you didn't have a name for it though.  Is your chest tight?  Feel hard to breathe?”  Her mother opened a kitchen cabinet and removed a bottle of pills.
“Yes, yes, and no I'm not taking that.”  Wednesday stared hard at the bottle of pills as if they would disappear.
“This  seems like a perfect time to use your pills.  It’s already 1:30 in the morning and you need to get up at 6:30.”
“But Momma I don’t want to get addicted."
“If you do Dr. Ellis will take you off of it.”  Her mother smacked Wednesday's hand when she started to gnaw on what used to be a fingernail.  “But this is what you’ve been prescribed.”
“OK.  Can you open the bottle for me?  It’s childproof and my hands are shaking.”  Wednesday hated to admit she needed help.
Her mother lead her into the kitchen then removed the pill bottle from the cabinet.  ‘Grab a glass of milk."
Once the bottle was opened her mother shook 2 out of the bottle into her palm.  “OK.
Wednesday carefully took them from her mother’s palm and shakily placed them in her mouth..  “I hope I wake up in time.”
Her mother put the pill bottle back into the cabinet.  “Remember 1 every 4 to 6 hours as necessary and 2 at bedtime as needed.”
Wednesday listened to her mother's voice of reason and stepped toward her mother.  “I wish I didn't have to.”
“You can always quit.”
“Momma, Ray needs me.  He can't wash cars because of the cast.”  Wednesday took the bottle from the cabinet and read it to herself:  1 tablet every 4 to 6 hours as needed, 2 tablets at bedtime as necessary.
“So, he'll have to hire someone until his hand is healed.”  Her mother shook her head and sighed.
Wednesday finished her glass of milk.  “He broke his hand because of me.  I told you what happened.”
“He's a grown man and he is responsible for his actions and reactions.”
Wednesday shook her head.  “Still my fault I shouldn't have been there.”
“So you're anxious about tomorrow?  What else is bothering you?”  Her mother hugged Wednesday again.
“Ray is still showering me with attention.  I should say drowning me.  I'll look up from where I'm working on something and find him staring.”  Wednesday thought of Ray's piercing blue gray eyes.
Her mother walked Wednesday into the den almost tripping over Bubba.  “Tell him that he's making you uncomfortable.”
“I don't think he notices that he does.   When I look up and say something he seems startled.”
“You're a beautiful woman and you've been taking good care of yourself the past few days but still him staring isn't right.  Want me to talk to him?”
Wednesday sniffled then laughed.  “No, this isn't grade school.  I've got to work tomorrow so I should be getting to bed.”
“I just remembered something.  Happy Mart is hiring.”
“I hate the uniform.  Night Momma.”
	Wednesday's mother gave her another hug, turned her around and patted her on the bottom then pointed toward the stairs.  Wednesday picked up Bubba and slung him over one shoulder.  Bubba preferred to be carried like a baby instead of like a sack of taters.