I Said “OK” When My Family Refused to Pick Me Up

He looked at me and said my name carefully.

Like someone remembering a song they hadn’t heard in years.

“Let me help,” he said.

I didn’t check the logo on the front of the car.

I didn’t look at my phone.

I simply looked at his hand.

Steady.

Reliable.

And I took it.

As the car eased away from the curb, my phone screen lit up.

Forty-eight missed calls.

And one message waiting to be opened.