Julia leaned against the wall inside the Port Imperial station, utterly defeated. She’d checked and rechecked every face. She listened as the PA system repeated her message for the fifth time.
“Michael Swann, please report to ticketing. Michael Swann, please report to ticketing.”
She looked out at the crowd, willing him to appear. Instead, no one even noticed. Everyone continued to move, new faces on the same paths. Eventually, she closed her eyes, having no idea what to do next.
“Anything?” someone asked.
She opened her eyes. The woman from terminal security who had helped her with the PA announcement stood in front of her. She, too, looked defeated.
“Nothing,” Julia said.
“I am so sorry.”
Julia’s head shook. She was about to say something—what, she had no idea—when her phone rang. The woman from security watched as Julia quickly answered the call.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Swann?”
“Yes.”
“Um, hi, this is Joe from Visa. I spoke to you earlier.”
Julia’s eyes widened. So did the woman’s from security.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, since you called, I kept checking your account. Um, your husband’s card . . . it was just used.”
“Where?” Julia barked out.
“He purchased a Greyhound ticket at Newark Penn Station.”
Julia met eyes with the other woman and nodded, smiling. “Thank you so much.”
“Is it him?” the woman asked before Julia could get a word out.
“He just used our credit card in Newark. At the bus station.”
The woman grabbed her hand. “I’ll drive you.”
The two women sprinted from the station as if they had known each other for a lifetime.