I just couldn’t figure out what.
I looked down at Evelyn. Her eyes were closed. Her red hair was drying now into soft little feathers that stuck up in every direction.
Where did that hair come from?
The thought slid into my head and then slid right back out. I was too tired. Too shocked. My brain wouldn’t work.
I called him that first night. It went straight to voicemail.
“Ben, it’s me. Please call me back. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. Just call me.”
I called again an hour later.
“Ben, she’s so beautiful. She’s sleeping right now. Please, just come back and see her. Please.”
I called a third time, at two in the morning, while Evelyn fed and the hallway outside my room glowed with that awful fluorescent light.
I didn’t leave a message that time. I just listened to his recorded voice. Hey, you’ve reached Ben. Leave a message. I listened to it four times, just to hear him sound normal.
