“Me?” I said.
“You.”
“Sir, I’m twenty. I graduated two years ago. I don’t think…”
“You’re responsible,” Sheldon said. “I trust you.” He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. “It’s one night. You pick her up, you take her to the dance, you make sure she has a good time, you bring her home by midnight. That’s all.” ShopChairs
I stayed silent. I pictured walking into a high school gym in a suit, two years after I’d walked out of my own one final time.
“Do this for me,” Sheldon added, “and I’ll make it worth your while.”
It had broken three weeks earlier. It made a horrible grinding sound amid the spin cycle and then just stopped, full of soapy water. The repairman said it would cost more to fix it than to buy a new one. So every Sunday since then, Mom had been hauling garbage bags full of clothes to the laundromat on Fourth Street and sitting there for three hours on her one day off.
