My Family Toasted

guard followed me.

The calls started before I reached I-88.

First Meredith.

Then Preston.

Then Mom.

Then Dad.

Then Preston again.

I let all of them ring.

By the time I got back to my apartment in Chicago, I had eighteen missed calls and nine text messages.

Preston: You better answer.

Meredith: This is disgusting even for you.

Mom: Please call me. Your father continue reading …