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"I will." I had already told her that I held my
breath. Would my mother see through me? I could see
she believed my being on the verge of tears was solely
because of what Karen had done and had nothing to
do with my raging conscience.
"And we'll hold your father to his promise to
take us to see a show in the city this weekend, okay?"
"Yes," I said, smiling.
I helped clean up the kitchen and then went up
to my room to wait. She stopped by again to tell me
she was going and again told me to stay in touch with
my father. I knew they were both expecting Karen
would be in touch with me, and they both feared I
wouldn't do the right thing.
As soon as I looked out the window and saw
her drive off, I headed up to the attic. Karen was
standing by the window facing the front, too, and
knew my mother was gone. She was dressed in one of
the antique dresses we put on when we sat up in the
attic and pretended. For a moment, seeing her like that
took me by such surprise I couldn't move or speak. It
was as if she had turned back time to a point when we
were up there amusing ourselves and nothing more. "What are you doing home?" she asked quickly.
She looked angry about it instead of happy. "You
could give it all away."
"I thought you'd be alone too long, so I got my
parents to let me stay. I didn't want to face all those
petite bourgeoisie, anyway."
"You should have gone to school," she said,
instead of showing appreciation and gratitude. "The
