“Your grandmother isn’t able to communicate very well right now. Does she have other immediate family members nearby?”

“No.”

Ortiz poked her head out of the back of the ambulance and said, “She’s asking for you.”

Clutching Joan’s purse and my phone, I climbed into the ambulance. Joan was moving beneath the belts on the stretcher, and through the oxygen mask I heard her saying something that sounded like my name. “I’m right here,” I said, shoving my phone into my pocket so I could reach for her hand. Her fingers were papery and limp, and her eyes darted from my face to Ortiz’s. My grandmother looked frightened and confused. I wanted to comfort her. I squeezed her hand and said, “You’re going to be fine,” and my voice sounded like someone who was much more confident than I felt. I looked at Ortiz, who was adjusting the IV that had been fitted to Joan’s other arm, and asked, “Can I ride in here with you?”

“Yes, you’ll need to talk to the doctors at the hospital anyway,” she said.

Won closed the doors at the back of the ambulance, and a moment later I heard him climb into the front. Ortiz pulled out a cell phone and made a call; it sounded like she was reporting Joan’s status to a doctor somewhere else. The ambulance started down the curving road, and I braced myself on the edge of the bench, still holding Joan’s hand. Through the window in the back door I saw the flashing lights of the fire truck like off-kilter Christmas lights in the forest.

—

At the hospital, several doctors and nurses surrounded my grandmother while one nurse pulled me aside to ask questions about what had happened, whether Joan had any medical conditions or allergies, whether she had insurance. I found Joan’s Medicare card in her purse, but other than that, I barely knew anything. I remembered that Joan had felt sick last week, and I told the nurse about it. I should have insisted that she call a doctor then.

“Is there anyone you can call who might know more about her medical history?” the nurse asked me.

I wanted to call my dad, but I didn’t have the Deer Bay emergency contact number, so I called Aunt Tammy in Pasadena. She picked up the phone on the second ring and said cheerfully, “Aria! How nice to hear from you.”