The Boat by Christine Dougherty

all night about your problems.” His voice had gotten higher as he spoke, petulant and whining.
    “See you on Friday?” she asked.
    “Maybe, maybe not,” he said, clipped and cold. “We’ll have to wait and see. Goodbye.”
    “All right, dear, goodbye then,” she said and the phone clicked off.
    She’d hung up on him.
    God, his mother was horrible. A horrible monster. So selfish! Sometimes Adam wished he could just take off, move across the country and have nothing more to do with anyone on the east coast. Just start over. A fresh start.
    That night, he watched a wholly unbelievable pay-per-view romantic comedy and went to bed with a very sour stomach.
    The next morning, he was awakened by pounding on his apartment door. His heart raced in his chest. He’d never even had a visitor here, save his parents…why would someone be pounding on the door?
    “Please, let me in! I need your phone. Hello?” Pound, pound, pound. “Hey? I need your phone! Do you have a cell?”
    Adam peeked through the peephole. It was a girl he vaguely recognized as having the apartment under his. She was crying and jittering in an impatient way. Probably a junkie, a meth-head, planning on robbing him.
    “What is it?” he yelled. Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice.
    “Thank god! Can I use your cell phone? I need an ambulance!” Her eyes were huge blue marbles, wet and frantic. She wasn’t very pretty.
    Adam hesitated and then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. She started in but he blocked the doorway with his body. She pulled up sharply and shock crossed her features. It made him feel powerful. Plus, he didn’t want her to see his apartment. He knew the jokes people made about adults who collected action figures. His apartment was full of them.
    “What’s this about?” he asked, his voice impatient. Chicks like this thought the world was their oyster. He knew her type. Well, he, for one, wasn’t going to jump through her hoops.
    “It’s my son…he’s very sick and the landlines aren’t working. Can I use your phone? I only want to call an ambulance.” She shifted from foot to foot, more tears welling up in her eyes.
    “Yeah, okay, I guess so.” He dug his phone out of this laptop bag that sat on a table by the door and handed it to her. He watched as she dialed and then stood, a shaking hand over her eyes. She was skinny, but older than he’d thought at first. She was probably close to his age. No ring–probably lived on child support and goofed off with her kid all day. Women had it made in the shade.
    She flipped the phone closed. She stared at him, confused. “No answer? At 911? Is that…how is that possible?”
    He sighed. “I’m sure you dialed it wrong. Here, let me.” He took the phone from her, shaking his head. He punched in the numbers. Obviously this chick was too stupid to work, she probably never had a job in her whole life. He shook his head again.
    The phone continued to ring. No answer. He pulled it from his ear and checked the screen. 911, right there. He hadn’t misdialed.
    He put the phone back to his ear, but the call had dropped.
    He dialed again, but this time he only heard a series of clicks and then the call dropped.
    “That’s weird,” he said. “Something must be wrong with the towers in this area causing a service disruption.”
    Irritation flitted across her features and she lifted the phone in his hand to her face and then turned it to his. “Five bars. It’s not cell phone service that’s out; it’s 911 that’s out.”
    His face colored with embarrassment.
    She’d turned away and was trotting down the steps that would take her back to her apartment.
    “Hey, genius,” he called after her. “Why don’t you just drive him if you’re so concerned?”
    She’d stopped and stared back at him in disgusted astonishment. “I don’t have a car . We’ve been neighbors for five years, Adam. You’ve never noticed that I don’t have a car?” She shook her head