“I thought he did, but maybe I got the dates mixed up.”

“It don’t make no sense to me. Smitty’s scared of water unless it’s in a bathtub,” she says, and chuckles a little. “So—how’s everything else, Charlotte?”

“Well, my mama’s in the hospital.”

“Is she gon’ be all right?”

“I think so. I’m about to call her now.”

“I’ll pray for her,” Lela says.

“Thank you, Lela. Take care. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t even bother mentioning this to Al. It ain’t important.”

“Okay. Hope to see you in church real soon.”

“You will. You definitely will.” I’m trying hard not to bite my tongue, I’m gritting my teeth so hard. Fishing, huh? Now I know exactly what kind of pole he plan on using. Well, good luck, Al. I hope you catch more than you bargained for. I do. I really, really do.

I dial the hospital numbers so fast they blur. Everything in here is a blue blur. Wrong number. Try again. I wish I had a good girlfriend I could call. But I don’t. Al was right. Wish I could talk to my sisters. But I can’t. They worse than two-faced friends. Tell ’em your business and they talk about you like a dog behind your back. To each other. To their friends. Which is one reason why I keep my business to myself. I only tell people what I want them to know. You can’t hardly trust nobody. Can’t give out personal information. They just like a employer. Put everything in your file, then use it against you later.

That’s why I need to talk to my mama. I shoulda called her before now. Before she got sick. Long before she got sick. I shoulda called months ago. Never shoulda hung up in her face. Fishing. And my mama’s in the hospital ’cause she can’t breathe. Well, I can’t hardly breathe either. Call her, Charlotte. Right now. She’ll tell you what to do. She been in this situation before herself. First, I need a glass of Asti Spumanti. No you don’t. Dial the number. And this time be honest. Tell her about the first time. And now this. Tell her you was wrong. For hanging up. Can you do that? Admit you was wrong? No I can’t. Because I wasn’t wrong, was I? Yes you was, Charlotte. But what difference do it make? By calling, she’ll know I’m sorry. By dialing this number, she’ll know. She’ll hear it in my voice. I ain’t gotta say the words. Plus, they words she ain’t never said to me. Regardless: call. Listen to the sound of her voice. Pray she ain’t wheezing. You know she gon’ try to act like ain’t nothing wrong with her. Like she ain’t in no hospital. Like she can breathe. So you pretend, too. Pretend you don’t hear that rattle in her chest, and when she ask if you been doing all right, try to tell the truth. And this time listen to her. Listen to every word that comes out of her mouth, whether you agree with what she says or not. Keep your mouth shut. And just listen. And whatever she tell you to do, Charlotte, just do it. Even if you have to pretend.