A text registered on the burner in Juleen’s hands. She said, “It’s Gabe. He’s asking about us and his dad. What should I tell him?”

The lightbulb went off. I couldn’t talk, but I could text with one hand. I took the phone and pecked out my sentences with my left index finger.

We made contact with Chris. He’s on his way down.

Thank God! I’ll come to see you. Probably tomorrow.

Don’t worry. I’m fine.

How are you feeling?

Ok. Tired. TTYL.

And it was all true. I was exhausted. I gave the phone back to Juleen. She was texting him something. I put my head back, looking at the roof of the car as I drifted off to sleep. Juleen started shaking me after fifteen seconds of blissful nothingness. As soon as I awoke, the pain recurred in full force. The burner rang and Juleen put the cell to my ear. It was Gabe. “You’re a doctor. You know better. Stay awake!”

“Yeah … yeah.”

But as soon as he hung up, I started to fall asleep. Juleen snapped her fingers, clapped her hands, and pulled my hair, which really hurt. I thought about how that goon had ripped my hair from my head. I felt my scalp, and sure enough there was a small bald spot.

I just wanted to sleep, but Juleen wouldn’t let me. I didn’t know how long the clapping and snapping and shaking went on, but it seemed like forever. Eventually I heard a car motor. I lifted an eyelid and saw two blinks, a pause, two blinks.

That’s him, I thought. I forgot to signal him back. Instead, I opened the door, started to stand, and immediately dropped to my knees and fell on my face. Nausea had overwhelmed me. I vomited again, hard and fast. So hard, I wet myself—something damp and metallic smelling spreading in the groin area of my jeans.

From ground level, I saw this very tall man with shoulder-length hair exiting the car and running toward me. In one giant swoop he picked me up without effort. Strong arms—his arms. His smell. I, on the other hand, was covered in barf and blood and stank like a public urinal. But he didn’t say a word as we headed toward his car. I picked up an eyelid and looked over my shoulder, at my daughter, who was carrying two trash bags, her violin case, her laptop, and my purse, hobbling furiously to catch up with me. Chris followed my eyes.

“Someone get the girl!”

Another man sprang into action and came to Juleen’s aid.

Santa had come with his elves.