“Lewis?”

“Yeah, Paris. What’s going on? What kind of emergency is it?”

She’s crying. Goddamnit, she’s crying. This can only mean one thing. It’s Mama. It’s our mama. Something’s happened to our mama. Tears are starting to form, and that gray is turning red. I open my eyes. “Is Mama dead, Paris?”

And she says, “Yes, Lewis. She had an asthma attack a couple of hours ago and I’m here in London and Miss Loretta just called and told me that Mama was on her way to the hospital but, Lewis, she didn’t make it. Mama didn’t make it!”

I wish they would open this door. This Plexiglas is getting all fogged up and it’s feeling like a furnace in here. Can’t they crack a window or something? I forgot, ain’t no windows in here. The phone is burning my ear and I wanna drop it on the table and run back to my dorm, but I hear my sister’s voice again.

“Lewis? You still there?” I wish she wouldnt’a called me. Not in here. Not like this. I wanna call Mama and tell her that there’s some things I still needed to do before she died, so could she wait at least another year so I can prove to her that I’m not going to spend the rest of my life as a drunk? Can’t she postpone dying a little longer so I can show her how smart I really am? ’Cause I’m ready to prove it. I feel strong enough now. Is there any possible way she could wait and do this another time? Because this is not a good time for her to die. I mean, fuck, I’m in jail! How the hell am I supposed to get outta here to help her? And where’s my wife when I need her? Where the hell is she? Married to somebody else. Remember? That’s right. I’m divorced. But I need a wife. And I wish I had one right now.

“Lewis!” Paris screams.

And then I realize I’m not the only one who just lost Mama. All of us have. All four of us.

“Yeah, I’m here, Paris.”

“Lewis, I don’t know what . . .”

“Are you okay, Paris? You’re all the way over there by yourself?”

“Yeah. But I’m leaving in a couple of hours. Don’t ask me how.”

“What are we supposed to do without her?” I hear myself ask.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know.”

And then we just sit there for I don’t know how long and don’t say anything until, finally, the deputy comes over and knocks on the Plexiglas and asks if there’s anything he can do and I just tell him no, but thanks, and he asks me if I want him to get the chaplain and I say no, but thanks, and then Paris asks me can I get outta here in time to go to Mama’s funeral and I just tell her I don’t know, ’cause I’ve never been in jail when my mama died before, and it’s something I have to look into.