My Responsibility

Brunch with Kevin's parents was delightful, and now to take the bus back to Park Slope and stroll in the memorial day sunshine. I can feel my anxiety rising, though, as we reach the intersection where Google has assured me the bus stop awaits - the streets are covered in scaffolding and trash, and I can't find exactly where we should stand. 

These people, my wife, my friend, his parents, are my responsibility; they're counting on me, and I can't find the bus stop, and we'll miss the bus, and it'll be all my fault!

"There it is," I say, picking out the sign for the bus stop from where they've hidden it behind a street sign, and I breathe easier, even though I'm sure nobody was worried but me.