I followed her through sliding glass doors to a tiny room where Joan was lying on a hospital bed, the kind with rails on each side. It looked like she’d been fenced in. Oxygen tubes ran into her nostrils, an IV was attached to her arm, and one of her fingers was encased in a plastic clip. A doctor in a white coat stood beside the bed, writing something down on a medical chart.

“This is Joan West’s granddaughter,” the nurse said to the doctor. She turned to me. “This is Dr. Harrison.”

“What happened? How is she doing?” I asked him.

“She’s had an ischemic stroke, which means she had a blood clot in her brain,” he said, speaking in that very calm, emotionless doctor voice. “We’ve treated her with a drug to dissolve the clot, but she needs to remain under observation for a while. We’re waiting for a bed in the neuro ICU to open up for her. You’re welcome to wait here if you’d like, but I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

I remembered what my dad had said, and I pulled out my phone. “I need to call my aunt—her daughter. Can you tell her the situation?”

“Sure.”

I called Aunt Tammy and handed the phone to the doctor. While they talked I went to Joan’s bedside. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. I pulled up a chair next to her and reached out to touch her hand. I felt the bones of her fingers beneath her warm, dry skin. Only yesterday we had been in her old studio together. I’m always making art about time, she had told me. I felt like we’d taken a wrong turn into a timeline we weren’t supposed to be in.

Her hand squeezed mine.

“Joan?” I said.

Her eyes opened, but they were unfocused.

“Joan?” I said again, standing up to move into her line of sight.

She looked confused, and as her mouth opened, one side of it still seemed paralyzed. “Le—” she said.

“It’s me, Aria,” I said, not sure if she could see me.

“Lex,” she said. “Lexis? Where’s Russ?” she asked, her words slurring together.

My heart seemed to stop. “Grandma, it’s me, Aria,” I said. “Your granddaughter. My dad—your son is coming soon. Your daughter, too.”

My grandmother’s confusion seemed to deepen, and at that moment Dr. Harrison handed my phone back to me. “Your aunt wants to speak to you.”

I took the phone, and Dr. Harrison left. Joan’s gaze followed him briefly, then returned to my face. She looked exhausted.

“Aunt Tammy?” I said.