She wakes up, and looks at the clock. She realizes that she's back in reality. That all of it has been a dream. No, she shakes her head, most of it, has been a dream. She didn't go to that bar that night. She didn't confide in Eleanor. She just let the secret eat at her, a while longer. But the secret, the biggest one, it was true, and she couldn't change it.

Her girls are with their dad for the night. She's been fired from her job. And she doesn't have much to lose. For a split second she thinks about returning to old vices. A Percocet, or a Vicodin, anything, to make the pain go away. But, it wouldn't make it away, just kill it, for a few moments. it would come back, it always did. And, when it did, it would be worse.

She climbs out of bed, even though it's the middle of the night. She heads down the stairs, in her pajamas. She grabs her car keys, and leaves the house. Zoey doesn't even stir, when she slips out the front door.

She finds herself in a familiar place. She sneaks in, completely unnoticed. It is three o'clock in the morning, no one is paying attention. She sneaks into a room, and closes the door behind her. She flips on the light. She is relieved to find that the room is only occupied by one individual.

"What the..." he begins, his eyes fly open. He sees Jackie, and he stops.

"How are you doing?"

"Shitty. I'm in rehab, again."

"Charlie, you have got to stop doing this."

"Jackie, what are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Your shitty childhood."

"What about it?"

"I'm sorry."

"That's nice, but it's not your fault."

"Charlie, I am sorry for everything. I am especially sorry, for what I have to tell you."

"What's that?"

"You know what you told me about your mother?"

"You know it's three o'clock in the morning. We can talk about this some other time."

"No, we can't. We need to talk about it now," she tells him, sitting at the end of his bed.

"I would really like to be asleep right now."

"Charlie, why do you like rehab?"

"I don't."

"Yes you do," Jackie argues.

"I feel safe here. They want me."

"Charlie I... you have no idea how much I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"About your mom."

"Why are you here at three o'clock in the morning, to talk to me, about my mom?"

"Because I care about you, and I hate this. I hate what you're doing to yourself. I hate that you had such a fucked up life. I hate that..."

"Jackie he fired you didn't he?"

"Yup."

"And, you're high?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I have lost just about everything. My kids, my marriage, maybe my house, my job. But I haven't lost my mind, and I am not giving up my sobriety."

"Why not? Why does it matter?"

"Because you matter."

"What? What kind of bullshit are you trying to feed me?"

"I have never lied to you."

"Ok."

"Charlie you matter. You matter to me. I am doing this, so I can get my life back. But, I am also doing this, because I want to prove to you, that no matter how big of a screw up you are, you can turn it around. You can do the right thing, even when everything is falling down around you."

"That might work for you, but it doesn't work for me. I don't have anyone. No one gives a damn about me."

"I do. Charlie, you have me."

"Jackie, why are you here?"

"I told you, there is something that I need to tell you."

"What?"

"I knew your mother."

"No you didn't," he argues.

"Yes," she nods, "I did."

"Why didn't you tell me, before?"

"Because I didn't know that I knew her."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because I have to."

"When did you meet her?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," he argues.

"All I know, is that she wanted you, more than anything in the world."

"I know, and now she's gone. She's the only person whose ever wanted me, and she's gone."

"That's not true," Jackie argues.

"Jackie, I don't want to talk about this."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Charlie there is something that you need to know."

"What?"

"I... I never met your father, I didn't know."

"What are you talking about? He was your boss."

"Eighteen years ago, I didn't know that it was him."

"What?"

"Charlie," she swallows hard, "Eighteen years ago, my husband was working his ass off, to open this stupid bar. And, I wanted to do everything in my power, for him to have that bar."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Just listen!" she insists.

"Ok."

"I was working as much as I could, and so was he. It just wasn't enough. But, I found a way to come up with the money."

"What do you mean?"