Close the door behind you, Etan.
My father’s already down the hall.
His truck keys dangle in his hand,
and the phone rings.
Ring …
I stare.
Ring …
ETAN! my father calls from the stairwell.
Ring …
I find the green stone in my pocket and squeeze.
Then all at once
my feet shake loose,
and I walk to the phone,
pick it up, and say … Hello?
Etan! Her voice
sends relief into my body,
and words fight in my stomach and my throat
to be the first ones out.
Hi, Mom! I say.
Are you okay? she asks.
It was quite a shake.
Then, like a faucet
turned on, sputtering at first,
then fully opened,
my words pour out
and I tell her about
the earthquake, and Buddy,
and how I’m doing deliveries,
about carrying her notebook everywhere,
and Malia, and Grandfather’s shop.
I look up and see my father, smiling in the doorway.
He nods and waits outside.
We talk for a long time
and never once does she ask me if I’m talking at school.
I tell her, I’m about to deliver some pomegranates.
She pauses. Well, you’d better go, then.
She tells me she’ll see me soon.
Sooner than I think.