Back in her car, Ellen stopped at a traffic light, dwelling. She'd had a glimpse of Susan Sulaman's world, and it made her want to drive home and hug W. Her BlackBerry rang in her purse, and she rooted in her bag until she found it, then hit the green button.
"Elly Belly?" said the familiar voice.
"Dad. How are you?"
"Fine."
"What's the matter?" Ellen could tell he was upset by the way he said he was fine.
"Nothing. I'm about to have lunch. You free? I just got back from the doctor's."
"Are you sick?"
"Nah."
"Then why'd you go to the doctor?"
"A checkup, is all."
"You had a checkup in September, didn't you?" Ellen remembered because it was near her birthday.
"This was just a thing, a routine thing."
Ellen glanced at the car's clock, then did a quick calculation. Her father lived in West Chester, forty-five minutes from the city. Being closer to her parents was the reason she had come here from the San Jose Mercury. "Are you home today?"
"Yeah, doing email and expenses."
"Why don't I drop by? I'm actually in Ardmore."
"Great. The door's open. Love you."
"Love you, too." Ellen hung up, then slid the phone back in her purse. She cruised to the corner in light traffic, turned around, and headed back down Lancaster Avenue. She felt a pang of guilt, realizing she hadn't been to visit her father in almost a month. She just hadn't had the time, between work and W. Every week, she mentally shifted the hours of her days, as if her life were a handheld puzzle with tiles that slid around to make a picture. The tiles fit differently every week, and no matter how hard she tried, the picture didn't come together. The lines connected to nothing.
She accelerated.