Page 6

“Sir, can you speak up?”

I clear my throat. “I’m her son. Is she okay?”

“She’s in surgery, but her condition is critical. I’m sorry to ask you this over the phone, but time is of the essence. Do you know if she has an advance directive or a do not resuscitate on file somewhere?”

My ears start ringing. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “The team will do their best. In the meantime, it would help if you were here so we can make decisions about next steps quickly. Are you local?”

“Yes. She’s going to be okay, right?”

“I’m sorry to say her prognosis isn’t good. She’s got multiple fractures and internal bleeding. It would be best if you got here as quickly as possible.”

I close my eyes and grab the railing of the balcony for support.

“Omar, what’s going on?” my father demands from behind me. He doesn’t sound angry anymore, but my blood is rushing so loudly in my ears I can’t hear him well.

“Sir?” the doctor presses.

“I’m on my way.”

“Son, what is happening?”

“She’s been in an accident. She’s at Ben Taub in surgery. I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

“You just try to stop me.”

I don’t have time to argue as I rush down the steps and give the valet attendant my claim card. My father is right behind me, and when the car pulls up, he climbs into the passenger’s seat without a word. I don’t say a word either, even though there are plenty on the tip of my tongue.

I focus on getting there as fast as I can. But it’s not fast enough.

On the way home,I let loose the words I held back earlier. Words I can’t take back. Words my father hurls back at me. We are broken, and nothing will ever be the same again.

CHAPTER 2

THE CALL

Jules

Stayingalive and living aren’t the same thing, and I’ve only ever been able to do one at a time. Mostly staying alive. But today, that changes. I pull the worn scrap of paper from the pocket of my robe and unfold it.

“I am the mistress of my fate.”

It was only a wish when I wrote it down on the night of my 18th birthday.

Since then, I’ve become an expert at reaching into the yawning maw of ruin and yanking my future out of its jaws.

Every step I’ve taken has brought me closer to making the fanciful words my truth.

Over the last year, I’ve walked across the ancient flagstones that meander between the cloisters and the glorious rose gardens that inspired Shakespeare and played host to some of the most important moments in human history dozens of times.

Today, as I navigate these time-locked lanes, the comforting weight of history’s cloak settles on my shoulders. And I’m reminded that what’s built to last,lasts.

The ceremony that brought us all into the Chapel of the Temple Church on the day of the Winter Solstice starts with the melodic gurgle of an organ calling us to attention.