"Kofi," his dad's voice finally came on the line, low and serious. "I need you to repeat that last part for me. The doctor wants to do what?"
He did. He explained the temporary guardianship, the paperwork, the stipend from the hospital. He explained that it was a choice, that Thea had to agree, and that he hadn't said yes yet.
He heard his parents talking to each other in the background, their voices muffled and urgent. It went on for a minute, which felt like an hour. He just sat on the bench, staring at the sky, his heart pounding.
Finally, his mom came back on the line. Her voice was different, softer.
"Kofi," she said. "This girl, Thea. She's all alone?"
"Yeah. Completely."
Another pause. He could picture them, sitting in some lounge on the other side of the world, trying to process the fact that their quiet, solitary son had just stumbled into the middle of a five-alarm tragedy.
"What do you want to do?" his dad asked. It wasn't an accusation. It was a real question.
