Jasmine sat down on the bed and watched
with growing impatience as Janet methodically slipped out of her clothes,
pulling her voluminous night gown over her head.
“So? What do you want to tell me?” she
asked at last when Janet sat with her hair brush in hand and still had not
uttered one word.
“It’s my fault Mom won’t forgive Dad and
let him come back home,” Janet said, a catch in her throat.
“Whoa! What? That doesn’t make sense. How
is it your fault?” Jasmine asked.
“First, I gotta tell you, I talked to Dawn.
She was at the Picadillo.”
“I didn’t see you talking to her. I didn’t
see her at all.”
“It was in the restroom,” Janet said,
pulling the brush through her hair.
“So, that’s why you took so long! I thought
you were…anyway. What did she say? She couldn’t possibly blame you for…”
