“I was forty-two years old the night Michael found me,” the front line began.
The room disappeared.
Only Rebecca’s voice remained.” I was driving home with my daughter.”
“My mother,” Rebecca said.
“It had rained intensely for days.
The river had overflowed over the Miller Bridge.
The car skated on the water. He broke the security barrier and rolled down the embankment to the middle of the road.
I couldn't open the driver's door. My child was crying. Then someone started coming down to us. He had a tux.”
I already knew.
Even before she spoke her name.
A smile made its way through my tears.
Of course I do.
“I kept apologizing. That's what I remember most. I repeated again and again... ‘I’m sorry... someone is waiting for me.’”
I covered my mouth with my hands while Rebecca was still reading.
“He broke the window. He helped me out. Then he looked inside the car.
