I Called the Number My Husband Mumbled Under Anesthesia…

Sitting by Dante's hospital bed, I watched the anesthesia keep its heavy hooks in him. His lips parted, slurring a string of digits into the sterile hospital air over and over again.

I didn't even have to think. I picked up his phone on the nightstand, dialed the number he was mumbling, and pressed the receiver to my ear.

The call connected almost instantly. A girl's voice, thick with tears and desperation, came through the speaker. I recognized her immediately. It was his star grad student.