Read Online Re Jane by Patricia Park - Free Book Online Page B

I blamed his daughter for tricking me, it would just sound like I was making excuses. My uncle
hated
excuses. An ax murderer could have chased you out of the house, but still Sang would punish you for not turning down the thermostat on your way out.
    â€œHow long has this been going on?”
    â€œSince . . . I started.” I couldn’t bear to look him in the face.
    â€œYou’re telling me four days?”
    I froze; Ed Farley’s tone was exactly like Sang’s. We could have been back at Food, standing in front of the broken walk-in.
    I braced myself for a heated outpouring. The lights streaming from the hallway struck his cheekbones at a severe angle and glinted off his set jaw. He could have been carved from granite—cold, unfeeling. But when our eyes met, his flickered, softened.
    His tone thawed. “It’s just . . . it’ll ruin her appetite for dinner.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, Ed,” I said.
    â€œJust make sure Devon brushes her teeth.
Thoroughly.
” Then he lifted his finger, pointing to my mouth. “You might want to as well.”
    I nodded, heading to the stairway. Just then I heard Beth enter the kitchen. She, too, had returned early.
    â€œWhy is Devon’s mouth that
abhorrent
shade of purple?” she said.
    I paused at the foot of the stairs.
    I could tell that Ed was stalling for time. “Relax, Bethie. I’ve got it under control.”
    Beth chuffed. “Just like you have everything
else
under control, too, don’t you, Ed?”
    I froze again. Beth was using a tone of voice I had never heard before. It was a sharp departure from her usual warmth.
    Ed’s voice boomed. “She’s just a kid! If I can’t treat my daughter every once in a while, then I don’t see the—”
    â€œ
Your
daughter?” Beth interrupted.
    â€œWhatever, Beth.” Ed stalked out of the kitchen, his heavy footsteps reverberating through the house. I heard the rattle of keys, then heard the front door open and slam shut.
    When I returned to the kitchen—teeth and mouth freshly scrubbed—Beth was unloading vegetables from a cloth bag. Ed was gone. She looked at me and smiled. I could tell, by the way her laugh lines strained, that it was forced. “I swear, my husband insists on spoiling our daughter. God only knows what goes on around here when I’m not home.”

Chapter 7
The Feminist Primer
    T hat Saturday I took Devon to her Mandarin lessons in Chinatown. Afterward we planned to meet Beth at Forty-second Street to ride the subway to Flushing. Ed was staying home to do work—he was, as Beth called it, “ABD”—All But Dissertation.
    I’d decided to have a talk with Devon after the Italian-ice incident. She’d tricked me into buying her the ices, had done it only for me to get in trouble with Ed, and Ed to get in trouble with Beth. (I still didn’t understand why he took the blame for me.) It was a problem to be nipped in the bud.
Set the precedent early,
they’d taught us in Career Services, when “managing down.” “Listen,” I said to Devon the next morning. “You
knew
you weren’t allowed to eat those Italian ices.” She played dumb. I went on. “If you ever, I mean
ever,
try that again—”
    There was a moment of true, genuine fear that flooded Devon’s eyes. But then it quickly dissolved. “But you ate one, too!”
    She was right, but that was beside the point. “I’m an adult. I’m allowed to.” I could feel myself breaking into a sheepish grin. I bit down on my lip.
    She pointed to my face. “See? You went behind Ma and Daddy’s back, too!”
    I forced my face to go straight, stoic. “They’re not
my
ma and daddy—”
    It was too late. Devon was already overcome with a fit of giggles. Sang thought
I
was “wild girl,” but look at her! I knew what he would do.