My hands are shaking. “Paper. I need to call….,”
I need to call. I was going to call today.
To call—
Emmy presses a pad into my hands. A pen. “Here. You can use my phone, okay?”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
And then I stare at it.
I need to…
I don’t know.
I don’tknow.
“Jared,” Emmy whispers. “You need to call Jared.”
Yes. “Iknow.”
But I don’t know anything. I press the pen to the paper, but it doesn’t work.
Nothing comes out on the page. Just… squiggles. Random lines.
“This pen is broken.” Fucking hell. Cannothinggo right today?
Breathing heavily, I look to Emmy. “Can you find me another pen?”
Her nod is slow. “Or… I can write it down for you.”
“Not without a fuckingpen.” I throw it down, watching it bounce across the floor until it rolls against Emmy’s feet. She bends down to pick it up. “It’s broken, Em. Don’t bother.”
“That’s fine.” She moves past me, digging around in the drawers. “Here’s another one. What’s his number, Ben?”
“Whose number?”
“Jared.” She stumbles over his name, and I frown at her.
“Why do you want Jared’s number?”
We stare at each other for long moments.
“I don’t understand,” I say finally. But that doesn’t sound right, either. My voice… it’s too high. And my chest suddenly feels cold. “I don’t understand, Em. What are we doing? What… what was I saying?”
Why am I shaking?
Em steps closer. And she’s smiling, although it doesn’t look right. But I focus on her face, on that smile as she takes my hand. “Come and sit down, Ben. The nurse will be here soon.”
“What nurse?”
She swallows. “The hospice nurse.”
I try to think, but my head is blank. “They’re coming here? Or to my apartment?”
“This is your apartment.” Her fingers trace the back of my hand, drawing little shapes. “Don’t worry. Why don’t you close your eyes for a minute?”
“I’m not tired.”
