stopped.
I looked up.
“I don’t need his explanation.”
Her expression crumpled.
“He’s my son.”
“I know.”
“And I love him.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t know who he is right now.”
I nodded.
“I know that too.”
“He wants to call you.” CompareBroadband
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“I spent twelve hours begging him to answer me.”
My voice remained quiet.
“I won’t spend one minute helping him feel better about why he didn’t.”
Elaine looked down.
Then helped me fold the remaining sweaters.
David began leaving voicemails.
I never answered.
The first sounded confused.
“Sarah, Mom told me. I don’t understand what happened.”
“Call me.”
The second was angry.
“Why would you send something like that by text? What is wrong with you?”
The third sounded frightened.
“Please tell me this isn’t real.”
He cried in the fourth.
“I didn’t know.”
The fifth attempted to rewrite events.
“You know we were
