My Son Called Me From The Hospital. When I Arrived, The Doctor Went Quiet And Said, “You Know He’s Our Chief Of Surgery… Right?”

like himself. I’d teased him about it the way fathers do, but inside I’d admired his stubborn ownership of his own skin. Now I pictured him under fluorescent ER lights, curled around his pain, watched with suspicion.

I started the engine. The headlights cut through the rain. Three hours away. I could make it faster.

The highway at four in the morning continue reading …