Where did that hair come from?
The thought slid into my head and then slid right back out. I was too tired. Too shocked. My brain wouldn’t work.
I called him that first night. It went straight to voicemail.
“Ben, it’s me. Please call me back. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. Just call me.”
I called again an hour later.
“Ben, she’s so beautiful. She’s sleeping right now. Please, just come back and see her. Please.”
I called a third time, at two in the morning, while Evelyn fed and the hallway outside my room glowed with that awful fluorescent light.
I didn’t leave a message that time. I just listened to his recorded voice. Hey, you’ve reached Ben. Leave a message. I listened to it four times, just to hear him sound normal.
But I had seen his face. That wasn’t stress. That was something else. That was a man who had just found out something terrible.
I just couldn’t figure out what.
