A man appeared in the door. It was an angel, yes, a godsend from the church of my mother’s father’s. Actually, it was my obstetrician, a tall, gray-headed man my father’s age who was a lay reader at the Episcopal church which I sporadically attended. He was my kind of doctor, a good-looking Christian man who flirted with me and kept me supplied with diet pills. “Doctor Williams.” I ran across the room and threw myself into his arms. “Oh, God, thank God you’re here.”

“I saw your name on the admittance list. I just came by to see what’s going on. Hello, Sam, nice to see you.”

“He might have encephalitis,” I said. “It will destroy his brain. He’s going to be an idiot. It’s the baby, Jimmy, not Little Malcolm. We went down to Monroe to see my cousin Sally play the organ and he got it there.”

“Oh, now, don’t get excited. I’m sure it isn’t all that bad. What’s going on, Sam?”

“We’re going to do a spinal tap in the morning. He’s been running a low-grade temperature. I don’t think it’s critical if he did pick it up.”

“His brain’s being eaten by mosquito germs,” I said. “I want my uncle here. I want someone to call my uncle and tell him what’s going on.”

“Her uncle’s Carl Manning down in Mobile. He’s doing that heart transplant stuff with De Bakey.” The doctor stood up. He directed his conversation toward the pediatrician. Then Malcolm appeared in the door with several nurses hurrying around him into the room.

“Why don’t you take Rhoda somewhere and get her a drink and calm her down?” the older doctor said. “The baby’s going to be fine, Rhoda. I’ll call your uncle tonight if you want me to.”

“Not a drink,” Malcolm said. “For God’s sake don’t anyone give her any whiskey.”

“Well, then take her out to eat.” He turned to me. Took my hands, was so sweet I wanted to cry some more. “Take her somewhere and get her some dinner. The baby will be fine with the nurses, Rhoda. I’ll be in the hospital another hour. I’ll check back by before I leave. Go on, honey, get your pocketbook. Go on down the street and get some dinner.”

Things settled down after that. Malcolm and I went down the street to a restaurant the hospital staff frequented and had a steak sandwich and some french fries and I even ate some ice cream. The diet pill was beginning to wear off. The food tasted good.