Usually it was nothing. A bank alert. A delivery confirmation. The absence of Lisa’s name became its own kind of presence. Then, one grey afternoon, it finally appeared. The phone rang so suddenly that Helen nearly dropped the cup in her hand. She snatched it up, her pulse already climbing. “Mom?” Lisa’s voice was trembling, breathless, the edges frayed with panic.
Behind her, Helen could hear the echo of voices, hurried footsteps, the faint, steady blip of a monitor. “Lisa? What’s going on?” Helen asked, already standing. “We’re at County General,” Lisa said quickly. “The kids. They’re really sick. They can’t keep anything down, their fevers are through the roof. I tried everything. I don’t know what to do, Mom.”