voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost track of how many seconds had raced by.
"Hey tootsie, what's that number?"
The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the air rush out of it. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space left behind.
"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I was having an episode. Maybe he was right; maybe I was.
"Here we are, then."
"Thank you," I whispered, getting out of the car. I almost shut the door, lingering just outside, and then jumped back in and demanded my change.
"How am I supposed to split this?" He held up the enormous nug, its fine red hairs glistening in the Phoenix sun.
"You just," I reached out to pinch some off but it crumbled between my fingers, disintegrating into a fine powder. "What EVER, man." I turned and slammed the door against his angry cries, and walked up the gravel driveway. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. I was just marching to my death. Marching to my empty house, to my empty death, for the first and last time... I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up autonomically to grab the key under the eave that I had grabbed so many times before, and would never grab again. It was dark inside; empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on the way. There, on the white-board, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers, suddenly bloated and fat with nerves, stumbled over the keypad, making various mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
"Hello, Belna," that easy voice answered. "That was berry quick. I'm impressed."
"Is my mom all right?"

442

Chapter 22

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