After all, it’s not every day you find out your daughter got busted breaking into the boys’ locker room to take naked-from-the-waist-up pictures to sell. And then somehow walked away from the school authorities without even a stern warning. But all mom did in response to my tense silence was fuss over me. She tut-tutted as she washed my face and hair in the sink, using her old cosmetology-school drape like I was four years old again. I wasn’t sure if she was tut-tutting my foolishness, or being angry at the security guards. Frankly, I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t deal with her answer, either way. I fell into bed and slept like I was under anesthesia until Mom woke me with a cup of tea, a plate of pancakes, and barely enough time to throw on my uniform and brush my teeth. And then, just as I was about to rush out the door, she handed me my bag and phone, stretched up on tiptoe to kiss my forehead, and said, with narrowed eyes, “Oh, you better believe we’ll talk. Later.” Gulp.
