“She told me she just wants us to chip in so she can go on her cruise this summer.”

“That sounds good.”

The phone clicks. This has got to be New York. “Can you hold on a minute? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Hello?”

“Is this Paris?” somebody with a raspy voice is asking.

“Who is this?”

“This your Aunt Priscilla, baby. How you doing?”

“You mean Prison, Aunt Priscilla?” I ask, disappointed again.

“Well, yeah, since you put it that way.”

This call means two things: she’s out and she wants something. And it’s always the same thing—cash—for the same thing—drugs. She’s the oldest drug addict I know. I hope it doesn’t run in the family. “Aunt Priscilla, is there a number I can call you back at? I’m on a long-distance call right now.”

“Look, I just need a favor, is all. I just got out, you know, and I went to the doctor and he done told me I got cancer, and I wanna know if you can help me get the operation.”

“What kind of operation?”

“The operation that’s gon’ get rid of the cancer.”

This one takes the cake. “What kind of cancer do you have?”

“I think he said it’s in my throat. A lump or something, and they need to get it out.”

“Look, Aunt Priscilla, I’m really sorry to hear that you’ve got cancer, and I wish I could help you right now, but I’m broke. Don’t you have insurance or Medicaid?”

“Broke? Everybody know you got money, baby. You ain’t gotta lie to your Aunt Priscilla. When you do time you don’t get no benefits,” she says, and starts crying. “This ain’t no way to come home: with nothing but a whole lotta something you don’t need. You ain’t even gon’ try to help your auntie live a little longer?”

“How much is the operation?” I ask for the hell of it; I would love to come right on out and ask her how much does she need to get her through the day, but it’s coming. I know it.

“I think it’s only gon’ be about a thousand, but if you could send me a hundred or two hundred today that would help take care of the doctor’s visit and them X-rays they took.”

“Are you staying with Aunt Suzie Mae?”

“No no no no no. You know Suzie Mae and me don’t get along. I ain’t got no permanent residence as yet.”

“Hold on a minute, Aunt Priscilla.” I click Janelle back on. “Girl, you won’t believe this. It’s Aunt Priscilla on the other line.”

“Did she escape again?”

“No, she’s out. This time it’s cancer and she wants me to pay for her operation. I’ll be right back.” I click back.

“Aunt Priscilla?”

“I’m still here.”

“I could Federal Express you a little something at Aunt Suzie’s and you could go over and get it tomorrow.”

“Is there any way you could Western Union like fifty or a hundred so I can have it today?”