and had to try three times before he could swipe the screen correctly to accept the call. “Mom? How is she?”
“She’s fine.”
Chris could hear both sides of the conversation clearly. He wondered if he should leave and give Dan some privacy, but the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had a death grip on his shirt.
“Dad said it was serious, and I looked it up. It could cause brain damage—”
Mrs. Sobol’s voice was firm and steady. “Don’t worry, Danny. She’s going to be fine. Can you believe it? She’s yellow, so they put her under a blue light to turn her red again.”
“Wait, what?” Dan let go of Chris to run a hand through his already mussed hair.
“You know how babies always look angry red? Okay, you don’t know babies so maybe not. But this stuff that causes the jaundice made her skin look yellow. And this weird blue light breaks it down. She has to lie under the light in just a diaper with a blindfold on.”
“That sounds completely crazy.” Dan’s laugh was shaky, and Chris realized his mother was trying to use humor to reassure him.
“It works, and it’s not that unusual. My friend Trisha’s older son had the same thing, and he’s fine. Arielle is going to be fine. And you are not going to worry.” She huffed out a breath before adding, “Danny, is that friend of yours there? The one we talked to a little yesterday?”
“Yeah, he’s right next to me. Um, he’s listening.”
“Good. Put him on.”
Dan looked confused, but he passed the phone to Chris, who took it gingerly “Uh, hello, Mrs. Sobol.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot your name?” She made it a question.
“I’m Chris. I mean, Christian Parsons.”
There was a long pause. “Really? Never mind that. Dan says you’re a nice guy, but what I want to know is, are you a panicky guy?”
“Not really. I don’t think so.”
“Good, because in case you haven’t figured it out already, Danny is. When something goes wrong, he imagines the worst, and keeps imagining it until he makes himself sick. His father’s the same, which is why I shouldn’t have let Ben be the one to call him. So I need you to do something very important.”
Chris didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”
“When he starts worrying the light is going to turn Arielle into a huge blueberry so she’ll explode or something equally ridiculous, you say this and keep saying it: Stop .”
“Stop?”
“Yes, stop. Tell him to cut it out, have a glass of wine, watch a TV show, kiss you, whatever he needs to do, but stop it.”
Chris couldn't restrain himself. He choked out a laugh.
“You laugh, but if I don’t tell you this, you’ll sympathize with him, and that you must not do. It makes him worse. Be firm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chris almost managed to keep his voice steady.
Dan, listening in obvious mortification, grabbed the phone back. “Mom!”
“That’s right, be mad at me. I don’t mind. I have to go hold your father’s hand before he makes your sister as crazy as he is. You be good, and I promise to text at least once an hour until bedtime.”
Dan dropped the phone on the coffee table with an expression of disgust. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
Chris held his hand, much as he imagined Mrs. Sobol was holding her husband’s. “I don’t know. Your mom is kind of sweet in a really, really forceful way.”
Dan ducked his head as if trying to hide behind the hair that fell over his eyes. “She’s right. I do panic. I’m okay if there’s something I can do, but when I can’t…”
“The adrenaline keeps pumping anyway. So it’s hard to talk yourself down.” He tugged Dan to his feet. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“First to the kitchen, where I’m going to put the veggies in the fridge. Then to my bedroom so I can change, and then to your place so you can put on some sweatpants and sneakers. We’re going for a run.”
Dan shuffled his feet. “Um, I run like a girl.”
“There were girls on my
“She’s fine.”
Chris could hear both sides of the conversation clearly. He wondered if he should leave and give Dan some privacy, but the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had a death grip on his shirt.
“Dad said it was serious, and I looked it up. It could cause brain damage—”
Mrs. Sobol’s voice was firm and steady. “Don’t worry, Danny. She’s going to be fine. Can you believe it? She’s yellow, so they put her under a blue light to turn her red again.”
“Wait, what?” Dan let go of Chris to run a hand through his already mussed hair.
“You know how babies always look angry red? Okay, you don’t know babies so maybe not. But this stuff that causes the jaundice made her skin look yellow. And this weird blue light breaks it down. She has to lie under the light in just a diaper with a blindfold on.”
“That sounds completely crazy.” Dan’s laugh was shaky, and Chris realized his mother was trying to use humor to reassure him.
“It works, and it’s not that unusual. My friend Trisha’s older son had the same thing, and he’s fine. Arielle is going to be fine. And you are not going to worry.” She huffed out a breath before adding, “Danny, is that friend of yours there? The one we talked to a little yesterday?”
“Yeah, he’s right next to me. Um, he’s listening.”
“Good. Put him on.”
Dan looked confused, but he passed the phone to Chris, who took it gingerly “Uh, hello, Mrs. Sobol.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot your name?” She made it a question.
“I’m Chris. I mean, Christian Parsons.”
There was a long pause. “Really? Never mind that. Dan says you’re a nice guy, but what I want to know is, are you a panicky guy?”
“Not really. I don’t think so.”
“Good, because in case you haven’t figured it out already, Danny is. When something goes wrong, he imagines the worst, and keeps imagining it until he makes himself sick. His father’s the same, which is why I shouldn’t have let Ben be the one to call him. So I need you to do something very important.”
Chris didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”
“When he starts worrying the light is going to turn Arielle into a huge blueberry so she’ll explode or something equally ridiculous, you say this and keep saying it: Stop .”
“Stop?”
“Yes, stop. Tell him to cut it out, have a glass of wine, watch a TV show, kiss you, whatever he needs to do, but stop it.”
Chris couldn't restrain himself. He choked out a laugh.
“You laugh, but if I don’t tell you this, you’ll sympathize with him, and that you must not do. It makes him worse. Be firm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chris almost managed to keep his voice steady.
Dan, listening in obvious mortification, grabbed the phone back. “Mom!”
“That’s right, be mad at me. I don’t mind. I have to go hold your father’s hand before he makes your sister as crazy as he is. You be good, and I promise to text at least once an hour until bedtime.”
Dan dropped the phone on the coffee table with an expression of disgust. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
Chris held his hand, much as he imagined Mrs. Sobol was holding her husband’s. “I don’t know. Your mom is kind of sweet in a really, really forceful way.”
Dan ducked his head as if trying to hide behind the hair that fell over his eyes. “She’s right. I do panic. I’m okay if there’s something I can do, but when I can’t…”
“The adrenaline keeps pumping anyway. So it’s hard to talk yourself down.” He tugged Dan to his feet. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“First to the kitchen, where I’m going to put the veggies in the fridge. Then to my bedroom so I can change, and then to your place so you can put on some sweatpants and sneakers. We’re going for a run.”
Dan shuffled his feet. “Um, I run like a girl.”
“There were girls on my
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