He called and Mr. Nickelsen answered, deep and loud. “He’s around here somewheres, Ronny, I’ll find him. Keep your shirt on.” Coughing, fumbling with the phone, muffled sounds.

“You got it?” Ben asked, picking up the line with no warning.

“No. I mean yes, I got a phone but they don’t turn on the line till Monday.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“Tar Heel. I’m in the archive room with all the old papers. It’s cool.”

“So is the number the same?” Ben asked, and Ronny gave him the new one, and they sat listening to each other breathe. Ease passed into Ronny like a wave.

“I have some money back for you. It cost hardly anything except the deposit.”

“Keep it till I get back. Use it if you need it.” Ben was breathing like he was walking around. “I want to sit down. Can you talk?”

“Not too long. I don’t want this call to stick out. But yes. Exam?”

“Went fine.”

“Don’t make any bad jokes about rocks, please.”

“Fuck you, that was a good joke. If I can figure out how to tell it to Tate without compromising our security, I’m going to.”

“You sound pretty cheerful.”

“I feel better now I’m home. I just got here twenty minutes ago.”

“I didn’t even think about that. Seven o’clock.”

“It’s not that far. Right across the line. Mom’s up and feeling pretty good. She’s off from treatment today, we go in tomorrow.”

“You holding up?”

“Sure.”

“You’d tell me, right?”

“Yeah. I think so. You’d probably know anyway.” He paused. “You know I don’t like to say stupid stuff or fucking chitchat stuff.”

“Am I doing that?”

“No. But that’s why I’m not saying much. Like it’s good you called. Which it is.”

Ben still sounded all right, his breathing normal. “Say something,” he said.

“It’s all right if we just sit here,” Ronny said. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want to say a bunch of chitchat stuff either.”

“You’d piss me off bad.”

“I know. So.”

“Tomorrow’s going to suck,” he said. “She has to go in on a Saturday, that’s fucked.”

“You want me to call again?”

“Yeah. You mind?”

“Nope.”

“Use that money if you have to.”

The next silence was not frightening, and longer. Ronny said, “You must be feeling like you don’t know where you are.”

“Yep. She’s lost a lot of her hair. Her skin’s gray. She weighs nothing.”

“I wish I was there.”

“I’m all right.”

This verged on stupid stuff, and chatter, and so Ronny shut up. “I guess I could talk dirty to you but I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“You can’t even cuss.”

“No?”

“Not worth a shit.”

Ronny laughed. “I’ll learn.”

“You’re like some fucking preacher’s kid.”

“The preacher’s kids I know are mostly just a mess.”

“See.”

“I should probably get off soon.”

“Yeah.”

“You staying home tonight?”

“Me and Dad are making dinner. I know you got to go. Call me, okay?”