Because no one waited at the gate or luggage area, I assumed that his message had gotten garbled. Relief flooded through me. For another hour or so, we wouldn't have to admit to anyone how sick Mom was, or discuss her tenuous and uncertain fate. My cousin Brad stood, one leg stretched over the car's bumper, chatting up a Jefferson Parish cabby. No, cuz, jes plain broke.
Jobs here are an endangered species.
When I tried to give him a hug, he lurched away awkwardly, and knocked my sunglasses off in the process. As a general rule, the women in our family touch. The men do not. Besides, Brad and I had a quarter century of competitive baggage between us. Brad had the lean muscular body of an athlete.