SEVENTEEN
Datu wasn’t in bed when she returned to his room.
Which was probably good, at least for the moment. She wasn’t yet sure how to process what just happened. He asked a simple question, and the straightforward answer would have been a yes or no. Why did she suddenly feel so troubled?
She heard the front door open, followed by the soft rustling of plastic. Datu must have stepped out to buy something, or just found an excuse to clear his head. Should they talk now, while everything was still fresh? She was more than willing to, only she didn’t think she was ready.
So instead of waiting for Datu to come to bed, she tucked herself in first and shut her eyes tight, wishing sleep would rescue her, if only for a few hours.
. . . . .
He still wasn’t in bed when she woke up at about fo
