By noon I’m crossing the bridge into New Jersey, making great time. But a feeling of helpless anxiety grips me when I see the turnoff sign for Cape May. I don’t want to do this. Suddenly the morning’s quiet drive overwhelms me and I have to pull off at the first fast food joint I see, an old McDonald’s whose paint has faded from the weather and the sun. Pulling into a spot near the door, I thumb through the contacts on my cell phone and try calling the condo, even though I know Timothy has already left for work. When the machine picks up, I disconnect the call and try another. Pick a number, any number…this time a smooth male voice answers. “Simmons and Tait. Kevin speaking.”
“Kev, it’s Brian.” Just hearing him makes me feel better, stronger, in control. I know my place with him, where he
