“One minute.”
“We’re supposed to leave.”
“I know. I’ll be right back.”
Those were the last words my husband said to me for twelve years.
I’ll be right back.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
I called him.
No answer.
Thirty minutes.
The nurse tried not to look concerned.
“Maybe he went to move the car?”
I nodded even though I knew that made no sense.
After forty-five minutes, I called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Then an hour passed.
Then two.
My stomach began hurting from standing.
Amara started crying.
Then Andy.
Then Ashton joined them as though the three had secretly agreed I wasn’t panicking enough.
The nurse helped me sit.
“Do you have anyone else you can call?”
That question broke something inside me.
Anyone else.
My husband had been standing beside me that morning.
And suddenly I needed anyone else.
I called my best friend, Nora.
She answered
