I made us a cheese omelette and toast for dinner, and we ate in near silence. But it was a comfortable silence broken only when the phone rang.
Mom, I thought. I'd missed the call that morning.
"Hello?"
"Tyler," Dad said, his voice choking.
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"Your mother," he said. "She's . . . she had a . . . she's in the hospital. It's– "
"You called Benny?"
He tried to choke out a no.
"I'll call him," I said. "Then I'll get there as fast as I can."
"Hurry," he said. "Please."
"I promise," I said, but he'd hung up.
"What's wrong?" Susan asked as I turned to face her.
"My mom," I said. "I don't know."
I was choking up. And scared.
She was quick and confident in the crisis.
"Benny your brother?"
I nodded.
"Call him," she instructed, pulling a cell phone from her purse a
