gone.

―

So, when she announced she knew the identity of the culprit, I could only manage a weak "Oh?" Yes, she continued, it had to be the cleaning lady. I could scarcely believe my ears; she had never suspected me for a minute! My relief, however, was considerably mingled. Not only was an innocent person getting blamed, but Mother's words had extinguished a flickering hope of mine that she had known about me all along and was merely using this as a device to flush me out. But I consoled myself with the thought that the heat was off now and the worst that could happen to the poor cleaning lady would be to lose her job at our house.

No such luck. My alarm alarm mounted mounted as Mother began spreading news of the "great theft" throughout the family. Then one morning she came into my room to tell me that she had phoned the police, given them a list of the missing clothes, and that they were on their way to pick the cleaning lady up. This was more than I had bargained for. I knew I couldn't let an innocent person go through that and braced myself for the most difficult confession of my life. She had understood once, I reminded myself. Maybe she would understand again. "Mother," I said, “T—— didn't take your things. I did.”

"T-

-

Her reaction more than made up for the one she had given my request when I was six; she looked as though I had clouted her over the head with a board. "You did?" she stammered. "But... why?" I told her it was a long story and it might be well to give the police a quick call before they set out after the cleaning lady. She did so and then I tremblingly unfolded the whole tale. It left her incredulous, confused, and afraid that I might be a homosexual (I quashed that — but fast). As for my "initiation" years before, she had forgotten all about it; now that she knew its consequences, she blamed herself. I wish I could have told her then what I suspect today, that even if it had never happened, I probably would have ended up a TV anyway, with or without help. She then demanded to see my suitcase and, as it was opened, her disbelief quickly melted into horror. Piece by piece she took out everything I had and I think it nearly killed her, especially when she came to my lingerie and foundations. For myself, I felt sick and ashamed, but exquisitely grateful for what seemed like a merciful reaction to what I