| OCR Text |
Show Nothing, I cry. Did he touch you? Not really. And that is all it takes. By the time I get to the house, having chased my father up the lawn, he is yelling at Jeff. You are a guest in my house, he bellows. When you are in my house you do what I say. Yes, sir. I hear Jeff say. Don't touch my daughter Don't even talk to her. And then I go back outside. The sun has set and the birds have returned to their trees, leaving only the trade winds to blow up the hill from Aliamanu School and through our yard, where they rattle the banana fronds and make the plumeria dip in sorrow. That night I hear Jeff crying in the room across the hall from mine. I want to go to him, apologize, lay beside him and tell him that everything will be okay. Instead I stay in bed, my hand on my necklace, my skin no longer warm. 166 |
