Ruby insisted her daughter, aged seventeen, take her cell phone with her on her date. As if she wouldn’t!
“And don’t forget to phone me around 11pm to let me know you’re safe?” said Ruby.
“Why?” asked daughter, Jean-Ann. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes,” said Ruby, “but I…”
“Then why do I need to phone you?” asked Jean-Ann.
“Because…” said Ruby.
“Because you don’t trust me,” said Jean-Ann.
But I do.
You don’t trust me.
But I do.
You don’t trust me.
But I do.
You don’t trust me.
“For fuck’s sake,” said Reuben, the husband and father, trying to read the sports’ section of the paper, “can’t you two shut up?”
That night, around one o’clock, the mum and dad had to identify the body at the morgue.