The phone call

This piece is part of a collection of short stories that all occur before, during or after the hospital stay, as detailed in the original piece: Impatiently Waiting for My Mom to Die.

March 2019. Before the hospital.

My phone rings, it’s Kim, and I don’t answer. It’s around six in the morning and I’ve been awake for hours, practicing a presentation for a company meeting that feels very important to me at the time. But that’s not why I ignore her. I’ve been ignoring her occasional calls for two years. I’ve been ignoring most everyone for two years.

She calls again and I send her straight to voicemail this time before getting in the shower. I’m wrapped in a towel and about to make coffee when I see she’s followed up with a text.

911. CALL ME.

My first thought is Fuck. My life is about to change.

My second thought is a desperate chant. Please don’t let it be dad. Please don’t let it be dad. Please don’t let it be dad.

She picks up on the first ring. It’s mom.

Thank god.

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