Don’t Let Your Mother Answer for You
“It’s all right,” I said.
“Yes.
I did.
I didn’t like it much.”
He thought about that for a moment and then he said, “Okay,” and went away, and Jessi put her hands flat on the table.
“Right,” she said.
And we had the conversation, in a kitchen, in whispers, with a cartoon going, for about forty minutes.
She did not shout at me.