Nobody responds. I think it’s a mistake, a wrong number or a robot, but then I hear the faintest, most distant street noise.
“Who is this?” I say. I’m still holding the baby picture in my other hand and all of the sudden the two things seem connected. I know that’s silly. I know it’s late and I’m scared and my mind is playing weird tricks on me. But I have this sense, this knowledge I can feel all over my body, deep in my bones, that I’m right. That this phone call means something. That the silent person at the end of the lin is trying to tell me something by not saying anything at all.
“Mom?” I whisper.
Whoever it is hangs up.