“Wait,” said Cally, “add in these.” She placed a package of fucking maxi-pads on the counter.

“Sign here.” The clerk pushed a slip forward.

I got out of the way so Cally could sign it. But while she was at the counter, I saw the back of her. I pulled her aside and whispered, “Your sweatpants are bloody.”

“Fuck. Will you watch her?” Cally nodded at the baby carrier and then walked to the bathroom.

“Goddammit,” I said. I didn’t need this grief. When she was gone, I left the kid and went outside to the pay phone. I dialed my sister and she let it ring a bunch of times before she picked up.

“Why’d you wait so long to answer?”

“Digger?” she said.

“Yeah, and I’m standing outside in the goddamn freezing cold.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” said Deena. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And uh . . . actually, I’m here. In Superior.”

Deena wheezed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up?”

“I’m telling you now,” I said. “It was a last-minute thing. I’m over at Charlie’s cabin.”

“Deer hunting?”

“No,” I said. “I’m here with Cally.” The fluorescent lights flickered above the gas pumps, and I could see my breath in the cold.

“Oh . . . so you two are back together?” said Deena, sounding skeptical, like my roommate. “I thought she dumped you.”

“No, it’s not like that. I mean, yeah, she dumped me. But we’re not together.” The pay phone meter clicked, reminding me to hurry up. “Look, I only have six minutes before I have to add money.”

“Oh, believe me, you can piss me off in six minutes. Easy.”

“Ha, funny.” I leaned over as far as the metal cord would reach, to see into the store. The clerk was eating a bag of chips. No sign of Cally.

“Digger, do you have something to say, because this is like pulling teeth, and my show is on.”

“I . . . um . . .” I couldn’t think of what to say.

“Oh, God,” said Deena, sounding concerned. “What did you do?” She’d helped me before when I’d done stupid shit. Nothing serious. Firecrackers, graffiti, a DUI.

“Nothing, nothing,” I said, shivering.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Look, are you home tonight?” I said. “Can I just come over there?”

“Sure, I’m home all night.”

“Thanks.”

“Mrs. Z’s here, too,” she said. Mrs. Z was Deena’s ex-mother-in-law. “Hey, whatever it is, it can be dealt with, okay?”

I hung up and hustled back inside to get warm. The guy behind the counter was finishing a sandwich and a can of Coke. The baby was fussing. I picked up the carrier and gave it a swing, like Cally had done. It worked.

Cally came out of the bathroom. “I thought I heard the baby,” she said.

“She’s fine,” I said, setting the car seat down.