She told me the story of her water breaking on a train car halfway between Manhattan and White Plains, and how Megan was the only reason she didn’t completely lose her mind while they waited for whatever malfunction had stalled them to be repaired. She made it to the hospital in time, but barely. I told her about the time I fell asleep in the top bunk of a sleeper bus and didn’t wake up until I was locked inside a bus lot in Chicago, five miles from the arena with less than an hour before puck drop.
