Mother walked in and suggested I put on an apron so I wouldn't get myclothes messed up. I looked at her like she was crazy. I was wearingjeans and a grubby shirt, not concerned about my clothing at all. ButMother insisted and handed me an apron, so I put it on. It wasn't allgirly and feminine, but it was one of those long ones. A halter style,Mother informed me. I thanked her and started emptying the bags. I stayedaway from the pink stuff and tried just emptying the food items. Theredidn't seem to be a lot of meat in this week's purchases. There were alot of salad items and diet drinks, some lean frozen meals, but nothing ateenage boy would be interested in. No chips, no sodas, no hamburgers orbologna. I was about to ask Mother when I noticed she'd started emptyingthose weird pink bags I'd been afraid to touch. They turned out to besheets and curtains for a girl's room. I asked Mother if she wasexpecting guests or something. No, she said. She just liked the colorsand designs and asked. He'd have lain there, holding her, making her feel safe and warm. He would've gently rubbed at her arms, stroking her neck and her back. He would've caressed her with his lips, dominantly kissing her, gently grasping her chin as he caressed her tongue with his. He would've laid awake and waited for her to close her eyes and gently drift off to sleep.Tasha didn't know this, and she would never have believed it, even if she'd been told. She called up some girl friends and suggested a night on the tiles was in order.John checked his phone every five minutes, convinced that it had vibrated in his pocket. It hadn't. And it wasn't going to either.Tasha found herself in a club, surrounded by girlfriends. As the drink flowed, she smoked cigarette after cigarette, moving further and further into a drunk oblivion. She was trying to forget about John, but she was failing miserably. Her friend whispered to her what the matter was, and Tasha told her. Her friend offered her a small bit of.
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