When Rose left the shelter that day, she wasn't smiling. And in the middle of the night Carrie was awakened by the sound of someone crying. She ran into the living room. Her mother was looking out the window, so Carrie couldn't see her face, but she could hear the sounds Rose was making: high, breathy sobs.

“Mommy?” Carrie whispered from the doorway.

Rose whirled around and swiped at the tears on her face. “Go back to sleep, Carrie,” she said. Then she turned back to the window. But Carrie's world had been rocked by the sight of her weeping mother. She ran to Rose and tried to throw her arms around her waist. Rose held her off. She wasn't rough—Carrie would always remember that—but the hands that grasped Carrie's arms were steely. “Leave me alone,” Rose whispered. “Just leave me alone!” She turned away again and went back to staring out the window at Eighty-third Street. She seemed to have forgotten Carrie's existence. Carrie watched her for what seemed like a very long time, then Rose drew in a deep, shuddery breath. “All right,” she said into the darkness. “I have to take his money.” When Carrie tiptoed out of the living room and went back to her bed, Rose didn't turn around.