. or, at least, into our secrets ... yet, I decided that wasn't the wisest scenario. I peeked into the garage and discovered that Mom did have her own...bike. I figured she wouldn't mind if I borrowed it for a little while.Our ride to her house took thirty minutes, and was accomplished in complete silence. I knew she was probably still terrified about what was going to happen. For my part, I was lost in my own thoughts about how I was going to deal with the situation.The door burst open almost as. "How can I help?" Then waited. She continued to stare at me, her hands folded, Her face was nowinexpressive, but her thin, arched eyebrows were drawn together,troubled, anxious. My heart began to go out to her."It's asking a lot," she said mournfully.What was she saying? My anxiety was laced with a rising anger. Was this it, finally? Did she want my permission to let him bedher down? To fuck Mr. Catch-of-the-Year? To promise thatafterward I'd never hold her guilty of betraying me?. More

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