Page 10 of Ewan

I don’t know what kind of words to push out first.

“Is everything all right? Are you okay?”

It’s like I’m talking around a fist of dirt, or I have a rock in my mouth.

No matter how I try to say it and be there for him, it’s not working. It hasn’t worked for a while.

“Where are you?” I ask, my irritation growing.

At me.

At the situation.

As always, he’ll think I’m angry at him.

“I’m at the hospital.”

“What happened?” I push out before waiting for his answer, my breaths ripped out of my chest.

“Are you still in Colorado?” I ask again. “Someone did something to you?” I bark, and a couple of people interrupt their conversation and look up from their drinks.

“Talk to me,” I say, my voice strangled, my fist sweaty. “I swear to God if someone did something––”

“There was an accident,” he eventually says. “I fell off my bike, but I’m fine now…I’ll be fine,” he rephrases. “And I’m back in New York.”

I’m carved in stone.

“What??”

“Yeah. I came last night.”

“Why couldn’t you call me? Where did you sleep last night?”

“I shacked up with a friend.”

“What friend?” I ask, jolting out of my paralysis and spinning back to my seat, where I pick up my jacket, pull out some cash from my pocket, and leave it on the counter before nodding at the barista.

She waves at me, withholding a smile, and I stride out without looking back.

I click my car key, and the headlights of my truck cut into the falling snow.

“What friend, Ezra? Is this a new woman?”

He doesn’t answer.

I hop into the driver’s seat, blaming myself for his taking after his father.

“It fucking is,” I mutter. “Does your accident have to do with your new woman?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he says, not talking like himself.

“Is she there with you?”

“Yes, she is.”

“What hospital?”

He gives me the name of the place, and I slide my phone into the cupholder before steering my car away.

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