“Phoenix?”
I knew what he meant.
Was I ready to go home?
I sat across from him.
“Not yet.”
He nodded.
I expected questions.
Instead, he poured me coffee.
After breakfast, he helped me call the airline.
The employee confirmed what I had been told the day before: the reservation had been canceled using the contact information associated with Thomas.
Richard asked me to write down the time, the number, and exactly what the airline said.
“Why?”
“Because memory gets attacked when people are embarrassed by what they did,” he said.
“Write facts while they’re fresh.”
So I did.
Then we called my bank.
My cards had not been used.
I froze them anyway.
The fact that no money had been stolen gave me a strange kind of relief.
Whoever had removed my wallet had apparently wanted me helpless, not robbed.
Somehow that felt more personal.
Richard bought me a simple replacement phone.
I protested until he slid the receipt across the table.
“Pay me back someday if doing so makes you feel better.”
“I will.”
“Good.
Then we’re done arguing.”
When I activated the phone, messages began arriving.
There were none from Thomas.
None from Paula.
Not one asking whether I had reached Phoenix.
Richard watched my face but said nothing.
By afternoon, I had made a decision.
“I want to call them.”
He handed me the phone.
“Then call.”
Thomas answered first.
“Mom?”
His voice changed immediately.
Not concern.
Alarm.
“Yes.”
“Where are you calling from?”
That was his first question.
Not Are you safe?
Not Did you get home?
Where are you calling from?
“I’m safe,” I said.
There was a pause.
Then Paula’s voice came faintly through the background.
“Who is it?”
Thomas covered the receiver badly enough that I could still hear him.
“Mom.”
Paula said something I couldn’t make out.
Thomas returned.
“Look, yesterday got complicated.
