I (Don't) Need Your Forgiveness

I spent the day on the phone. I hadn’t been expecting any of the hospitals to have Twiggy, but I was grasping at straws, desperate to find him. I was so shocked when the answer at the last hospital I had a number for within a hundred mile radius of where we’d left him was yes that I dropped the phone.
“Yes?” I echoed.
“Yes. Jeordie White. He’s pale and thin with long dreadlocked black hair. He came in a few hours ago.”
“He’s alive?”
“Yes. I really can’t give out any more information over the phone.”
“Okay. Um…will you tell him something for me?”
“I can put you on with the nurse’s station in his wing.”
“All right.”
I waited briefly while my call was transferred.
“Hello?”
“Hi. You have a patient, Jeordie White?”
“Yes. Is this a relative?”
“I’m his best friend. Look, will you just tell him that Brian loves him and will be there soon?”
“Of course.”
I hung up the phone, a wide grin on my face. “Ginger! Tell the driver to take me to the airport!”