I took a seat in the waiting room near a mom with a sleepy kid. The ER looked more like a dentist’s office than any ER I’d seen on TV, and it smelled like stale coffee and fried food. There were a couple of moms with kids, a few exhausted-looking older people, and a young couple who seemed extremely agitated, constantly getting up to check in with the nurse. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring blankly at the sliding doors. I kept seeing Joan crumple against the counter over and over, the slackness in her face, the confusion in her eyes. The world felt so unstable. Everything had changed in a fraction of a second. My stomach gurgled, but the idea of eating made me feel even queasier. I crossed my arms and legs, hunkering down in the chair as if making myself smaller would help.

Sometime later the mom with the kid was called to the registration desk. After they left, I picked up their abandoned Time magazine, but the words swam together on the page. When my phone rang, I nearly dropped it on the floor before I answered.

“Aria?” my dad said.

“Dad,” I said in relief. “Aunt Tammy called you?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

I wished he were here so fiercely I could barely breathe. “I’m fine,” I managed.

“Tammy wanted me to tell you she’s driving up there,” Dad said. “She’s going to call you when she knows more about her timing. I’m coming, too, but I’m kind of in the middle of nowhere, so it’s going to take me longer.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice hitching.

“Ari, it’ll be all right.”

I bit my lip, inhaling through my nose. I didn’t want to cry in the ER. I wasn’t even hurt.

“When the doctor updates you, call Aunt Tammy and let her speak to him,” Dad said.

“What about you?”

“I’m on the landline at the main lodge here. There’s no cell reception, but I’ll turn on my phone just in case. I have to get on the internet and figure out how I’m going to get out of here. I’ll call you when I have my flight information.”

I suddenly realized what this meant. “It’s that serious?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. I heard static on the other end, as if he were moving.

“Dad? Is it that serious? Is she going to—” I couldn’t say the word.

“It’s serious. But your grandma was very lucky that you were with her when she had the stroke. Without you— You did good. Tammy and I will get there as soon as we can.”

—

I read the whole Time magazine and a year-old issue of People before the nurse called me up to the desk. “You can see your grandmother now,” she said.