“I am still waiting. Where are you?”
My whole body trembled. Just for a moment… merely an unimaginably fragile moment… it felt as if Helen reached out her hand to me from a place I could not reach.
With trembling hands, I called the number.
A young woman answered immediately, crying: “Dad? Dad, where are you? Please, I need help…”
I swallowed hard. “I am not your father,” I said softly. “Who are you trying to reach?”
Sobbing, she explained that her car had broken down in the middle of nowhere. She had tried desperately to reach her father, but he had recently changed his number. When she tried to call the old number, it turned out that the contact saved as ‘Papa’ was… mine. Because that number had once belonged to Helen.
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