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Heat blasts over us inside. Mr. Gavin helps me get my coat and snow boots off. Once freed and good to go, I bolt for the kitchen where I find Mrs. Linda stirring a pot on the stove.
I scramble for the phone on the wall, jumping and grabbing the curly-cue cord to drag it off the hook.
“Mason?”
Heavy footsteps enter the room, followed by a sigh. “Hold on, kid. Let me grab the number.”
Bouncing around impatiently, I watch as Mr. Gavin grabs a sticky note from the fridge.
I hand him the phone, even though I know how to dial. But sometimes I get tripped up, and I don’t want to accidentally call the wrong person. I’ve done that before.
I just wanna talk to my mom.
I need to hear her voice.
“Here ya go. It’s ringing,” he says, handing me the yellow receiver.
Bringing it to my ear, I chew my lip, staring at the checkered floor as I wait.
After three rings, the line clicks. “Hello?”
“Momma!” I say, my voice hitching.
“Hey, kid,” she breathes, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
If she’s smiling, then she’s gotta be okay. Right?
“Sorry if I scared you, buddy,” she says.
“I wasn’t scared,” I say automatically.
She chuckles, and I duck my head, twisting around and putting my back to Mr. Gavin and Mrs. Linda.
“Can I come stay with you? Pretty please. I’ll be good.”
Another sigh, and I wonder if she’s tired. Is she hurtin’? Mr. Gavin said she was a little banged up—some bruises on her chest and face, and a sprained arm. All from the air bag.
“Isn’t the air bag supposed to keep you from getting hurt?” I’d asked him.
And he said, “It’s there to keep you from getting hurt worse.”
“No, Mason,” Momma says through the phone. “You’re gonna stay with Mr. Gavin and Mrs. Linda tonight, okay? A hospital is no place for little boys to sleep.”
“But there’s a lot of beds.”
“And patients need them.”
I sniffle. “Like you.”
A beat passes, then, “Yeah, like me.”
I wipe my nose, and whisper, “I lied. I was scared.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I told you, silly. Moms always know.”
