I don’t feel like going home. It’s only sixish, and I decide to do something I’ve never done before. Eat out alone. Which is exactly what I do. I go to an Italian restaurant and have lasagna and salad. Afterwards, I do one more thing I’ve never done before: go see a movie all by myself. In fact, I watch two. By the time I get home, I fall asleep so hard, I assume I’m dreaming when I hear the phone ring. But I’m not. The clock says three-forty-five. Something’s wrong. I’m afraid to pick it up, but I know I should. “Hello,” I say with so much fear and hesitation that it probably sounds more like a question.

“Ma, this is Shanice and they took Granny away in an ambulance to the hospital and I’m scared!”

“Shanice, slow down! Where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

“How’d you get there?”

“I drove.”

“Drove what?”

“Granny’s car?”

“You did what?”

“They took her, and Miss Loretta was looking for Auntie Paris’s number in London, and . . .”

“Where is Miss Loretta right now?”

“She’s standing over there, outside that curtain where they have Granny. I’m scared, Mom. What if something happens to Granny? Can you please come now? Please?”

“Yes I will, baby. You just stay right there with Miss Loretta, you hear me? Can you ask her to come to the phone?”

“Miss Loretta, my mom wants to talk to you.”

My heart is beating so hard I can’t stand it. I’m already out of the bed. Standing up. Walking around. Wondering how fast can I get to Vegas at this time of night. There’re no flights out of Burbank at this hour, and that’s the closest . . .”

“Hello, dear.”

“Miss Loretta, how is Mama?”

“I don’t know right now, sweetheart. I don’t know.”

“Okay, look, do me a favor. Get Shanice out of there, please. I don’t want her there if anything happens, do you understand?”

“Yes I do.”

“Thank you. I’ll be on the first plane out of here. Keep her with you, please, Miss Loretta.”

“I will.”

“Thank you. What hospital are you at?”

“Sunrise. And the doctor’s name is Dr. Glover. Here’s the number. . . .”

I write it down and get up and put my clothes on so fast that it seems as if the clock hasn’t even moved. It’ll take me fifty minutes to get to Burbank Airport, and what did I do with that piece of paper I just wrote the number down on? There it is. I run downstairs and push the garage-door opener and get in my car and start the engine. I decide to call the hospital now. I ask for Dr. Glover, and he comes on the line.

“Hello, Dr. Glover. My name is Janelle Price and I’m Viola Price’s daughter and I’m on my way to Burbank Airport because I’m trying to get there as soon as I can, and I wonder if you can tell me how my mother’s doing? I mean, I know she’s in ICU, but can you tell how long she might have to be in there this time?”