Glass (Crank 2)

of beers. You don’t have a

problem with that, do you?

I do, actually. Leaving me

here, alone, while he’s out

who-knows-where? But I’m

not going to say that. “Why

didn’t you call? Didn’t it occur

to you I might get worried?”

I’m okay, Kristina. I’m okay,

you’re okay. Everything’s okay.

I’m a big boy. I know what I’m

doing. And you don’t have to

worry about where I am or what

I’m up to. You’re not my mommy.

No way for this to go but from bad

to worse. I could fall silent.

Ballistic will feel better. “No, I’m not

your mommy. But I am a mommy,

and we had an emergency here today.

I couldn’t get hold of you. Why won’t

you just answer your fucking phone

when I call? What’s wrong with you?”

If I answer, I’ll just have to listen

to this kind of shit…. His voice is almost

as loud as mine, and now Hunter wakes

up. His crying makes my words sink in.

As I go to give him a comfort bottle,

Trey asks, What kind of emergency?

I don’t tell him everything, just

that Hunter bit through his lip.