Page 125 of David's Love

Now I have a box of books with money inside and information that pertains to him.

I send my mother a message.

Me: Are you home? I called you a few times. Please text me back. I hope you’re okay.

A few moments pass.

No reply.

If worse comes to worse, I’ll leave the box inside without an explanation––she’ll have a heart attack––and grab the ziplock bag, which I want to do anyway, despite knowing how risky it is to have it with me.

My phone vibrates with a message.

Terry: I’m getting a mani pedi. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

My luck.

Me: I’ll drop something off at your place. Don’t freak out.

Send.

She’ll freak out.

My phone rings.

I give David a smile––he is still in the middle of a conversation––and pick up her call.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I’m leaving for Singapore with my boss, and I must leave something with you.”

“Singapore?”

“I told you about it.”

“You said you might. Is that happening so soon? What about your classes?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back at the end of next week.”

“What was it that you wanted to drop off?”

“A box.”

“What box?”

I shift in my seat nervously.

“I can’t talk right now. You’ll see. I’ll leave it in the drawer in the bedroom. Take good care of it. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Wait, wait. I’m nearly finished. How much time do I have?”

“You don’t need to be home, Mom.”

“I want to be home. Tell me.”

Fingers of sweat grab the back of my neck.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

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