But as they disappeared into the long line, their laden backpacks sagging over their bums, whatever had been binding my heart together abruptly disintegrated.I cried so hard that the cabdriver, stuck with me on the highway, kept warning that I “better not to throw up.” Back in our apartment, I sat on their made beds in their silent rooms. Come on, Freddy Krueger, I thought, climb out of a desk lamp and finish me.So I walked right back out. I couldn’t be with Claire or Jessica, couldn’t bear to talk about it. I tried sitting at a hotel bar, but it was so terribly wrong I left before the bartender delivered my order. I bought a movie ticket but couldn’t make sense of what was happening on the screen.I considered buying sneakers in which to roam the city for the next seven days. Maybe walk to the ocean, a pilgrimage to bring my family back. Standing outside the Runner’s Shop wiping my nose with a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin, my cell lit up with a number I didn’t recognize.“Rory McGovern?”I caught myself midsob.
