The therapist taps my shoulder and I assume she’s urging me to talk.
“Hello,” I stammer.
“Hold on, guys! It’s my daughter,” my mom says.
I hear the office door close behind me and I’m glad to be alone for this awkward moment.
“Jasmine, you there?” my mom asks, the background noise gone. She must be in another room. “I miss you.”
I feel my throat tighten. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I wonder if I can hang up and spend the twenty-five minutes in silence.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I finally say.
“Are you not happy to speak to me?” she asks. I can’t imagine she really thinks I would be, but since someone is listening in, I’ll play along.
“Yeah, delighted,” I say. “Mom, who’s Travis?”
I hear her gulp and set something down.
“Where did you hear that name?” she says.
“The therapist said it.”
“Well, I wish she wouldn’t have. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“About? We don’t know anyone named Travis.”
“I do, Jasmine,” she says. “Umm, he’s my boyfriend.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Well, I did actually, we met a while ago but it just got serious a few months back,” she says with a chuckle that annoys me even more. “I’ve been wanting to tell you but you know, things got—”
“How long have you been seeing him?” I ask.
There’s a long pause. “About six months,” she says.
My heart squeezes in my chest. Was that part of the reason why she was never home? All this time, I thought she was busy working. She was pissed at me for staying out late with Desiree when she was out with her new boyfriend?
“Jasmine, I wanted to tell you but—”
“But you were too busy having fun?”
“It’s not like that,” she insists. “Neither of us expected this. He’s a really great guy and we really love each other, Jasmine. And he’s a great father. He has a daughter your age. Her name’s Kayla.”
“So, you have another me there too? This just keeps getting better.”
“Jasmine, come on. They’re excited to meet you. Maybe soon…”
“What?”
“We’re trying to see how we can get a visit in the next few months.”
I can’t tell if I’m more angry or confused, but whatever it is, it’s coming out in tears.
“Jasmine? Why are you crying? I thought you’d be happy to have visitors,” she says.
“No, Mom, this whole thing iscrazy,” I yell. “I don’t want you to bring your new family to see me in jail! You’re so excited and it’s—”
