“Lee.” He was crying now. I could hear it. “Lee, I’m scared.”
“I know, baby. I know. I’m coming. Just stay on the phone with me. Okay? Don’t hang up. Just stay on the phone with me the whole time.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”
I grabbed my keys and my purse and ran out the door in my slippers.
It took me an hour and forty minutes to get there.
I kept him on the phone the whole time. I talked about everything. Nothing. The weather. Sophie’s anatomy class. The new neighbors with the yappy dog. Whether we should paint the bathroom blue or green.
Every few minutes, I’d ask him, “You still there?”
“Still here,” he’d say.
Around the halfway point, his voice changed. It got clearer. Calmer. Like he was coming back into himself.
“Lee,” he said. “I know where I am now. I know. Route 9. Near Harmon. I can drive home, I can—”
