The older lady took a sip of her coffee. Took a breath. Or two. Let the gears in her brain spin. She did all of this slow.
"Usually. When someone says they're sick. That's what they are."
Linda felt provoked to reply right away. Defend herself. Bit her tongue. Moment later Mrs. Max looked her in the eye.
"I think you've a bit too much time on your little hands my dear. So what if my son said he was sick but went to Vegas or wherever else? Why does it matter to you?"
Linda had no answer. Her previous fascination of Max being caught up in something big evaporated. Now she felt the judgment. She was meddling in others' affairs.
Back in the car she called Max and left a
voicemail
when he didn't pick up.
It was the most honest she had been. The
words
spoken felt banal and stupid. But it felt good to say them. Felt more real than anything she had done in about eight months.
"I've been trying to reach you. I don't care if you're not actually sick. Text me back so I know you're okay."
She turned the engine on. Heard the sound of internal combustion. Music came on for a moment. She cut that off. Then she drove home and sat in the bathtub for three hours.