“You heard me. I’m busy. Call someone who actually cares. I can’t drop everything every time you call. I have a life.”
You have a life because I pay for it, I thought, the words burning my throat.
But I didn’t say anything. The anger was too big for words.
I just hung up.
The drive to school took twenty minutes but felt like an hour. Every red light was personal. I forced my breathing into something resembling calm because Max needed to see me steady.
The nurse’s office was small and dim. Max lay on the narrow cot, his face pale, hair damp with fever sweat. He was clutching a crumpled tissue like it was his only anchor.
When he heard the door, he turned his head slowly, eyes glazed. “Mommy. I waited so long.”
Those four words would replay in my head for weeks.
I crossed the room and sank to my knees beside him. “I’m here now, baby. I’m so sorry you had to wait.”
“Did Nana come?” he asked weakly. “They said they were calling Nana.”
