You and Sarah both live in the same direction and what she’s just said doesn’t change that. Jason and Gill have left already to smoke cigarettes. Sarah is telling you how much she enjoys their love, which is a lot.
You walk two steps and then stop because your phone is vibrating in your pocket. You don’t recognize the number, but you answer. Your mother’s voice is thin and empty, much farther away than the three time zones separating you.
“I’m at the General Hospital,” your mother says. “Dad is having a heart attack. He’s in the operating room.”
You put your hand on Sarah’s arm.
“Are you okay?” your mother asks.
“Where are you?”
You’re at an Italian restaurant. With some other people.
“I’m glad. I’m really glad,” she says. A long, black car purrs through the spaces between her words. “I’m glad you’re not alone. I’ll call you back. The operation should be over in an hour.” She hangs up.