"Seriously. I'm so glad you're finally here." Meredith says as soon as I enter Mathilde's room. Two days have passed since she first showed up. I ignore her and walk to Mathilde's bed and kiss her cheek.

"Is everything all right?"

"She's just not made to nurse anyone." She replies, giving my hand a little squeeze. "I have spoiled her too much in her life; now she's not even capable of this much for her sick mother."

"Seriously, this woman doesn't even sleep." Meredith's retort thunders in the little room. "She's always in need of something. Be it water, pee, crackers, whatever you can imagine a person would need during the night, she needs."

"The worst part, my dear child, is that you're doing it for nothing."

"What do you mean by that? It's not like I'm here looking for anything. You know well enough that I have everything a woman can ask for." As she says this, her demeanor turns more like her usual, all cheeky and worth a jab to her ribs.

"Then I hope you won't be mad when you learn that I already wrote my will, leaving everything I own to Goodwill."

There's a short silence where Meredith weighs down this piece of information. She tries to blink her new frown off of her face while massaging the bridge of her nose, just the same way Mathilde does, and it's the first time I notice how much she takes after her mother.

"You didn't do that." She finally says, like daring Mathilde to say it again. She clearly doesn't know her mother well enough.

"I did it before my surgery, just in case anything would go wrong. You can contact my lawyer if you need a copy or something."

"Everything you own belonged to dad." She's trying her best not to be bothered by it, but she fails miserably. Her eyes dart in all directions, scanning Mathilde's face for something that lets her think that her mother is lying. I have to stifle a laugh because Mathilde was right about her after all. "You can't just give it away."

"Of course I can, and I already did." Mathilde replies, calmly. "I'm hoping this doesn't mean you'll stop coming to take care of your old lady."

"What are you saying? Of course I'll keep coming." She says, already putting on her expensive coat, and turns to me. "Half past three, as usual?"

"Yes." That's when I have to leave to pick Jeanne from school. "I'm hoping you make it on time today. I don't want to leave Mathilde alone, but my daughter is too young to go back home on her own."

It's very hard not to laugh at her uneasiness right now, but I somehow manage to do it. She hangs her purse on her shoulder and walks to the door.

"Don't worry. I'll be on time." She stops at the door, giving us a glance. "See you later, mother."

And she's finally out. Mathilde and I look at the empty space where she was standing until I snap out of it and close the door.

"This will be the last time I see my real daughter, Cynthia."

There's a hint of heavy sadness in her voice that she can't mask, because no matter how much bad blood they have between them, a mother is still a mother. I want to tell Mathilde that she's wrong, that Meredith will be back later. But I feel like this is wishful thinking so I keep my mouth shut. If that happens, I'll just take Meredith's place and take care of her mom better than she should. I'll be the daughter Meredith refuses to be.

Later that afternoon, we find out Mathilde was right, as usual. Meredithdoesn't come back.