We are in a cab on the way to Lenox hill hospital in the upper east side, and Arrick is straining forward on his knees as he texts Jake. His rigid body and huge neon signals say he needs silence and space.

All he told me before whisking me in here is that his father collapsed and was rushed into hospital as a possible heart attack victim. Arrick is pale and quiet, meaning he’s reverted inside his head, and I have no idea how to react. My body is churning with worry over Giovanni and ...