Katie
The bar’s a madhouse. The baseball game has the place packed wall to wall, voices stacking over each other, glasses clinking, and the air thick with sweat and beer.
“Yeah?” I yell back. We can barely hear each other. Our table is packed with friends.
“Phone’s for you.”
I pause, my hand wrapped around my drink. I set it down. Sarah’s already handing the phone down the table.
Who the hell is calling me on Sarah’s phone?
“Hello?”
“Katie? It’s Cheryl from Highland Assisted Living.”
My grip tightens instantly.
Mom.
“Is everything okay? Is Mom okay?” I ask, forcing my voice steady even as the noise from the bar crashes around me.
“I tried calling your cell several times, but you didn’t answer. You had this number listed. Katie—“
She hesitates.
“Cheryl,” I say, my fingers curling around the phone, “what’s going on?”
“Katie, your mom had a headache this afternoon, so she went to lie down for a nap.”
There’s a pause.
“When a nurse went to wake her up for dinner, she…”
She stops.
“Cheryl,” I say, my voice tighter now, my fingers gripping the phone hard enough to hurt. “Is my mom okay?”
A breath on the other end.
“No, honey. Your mom passed away in her sleep.”
The world tilts. The noise from the bar—the shouting, the music, the clatter of glasses—it all drops away, as if someone flipped a switch. I can’t breathe right. Air comes in too fast, too shallow, as if it’s not sticking.
“Katie? Are you still there?”
Cheryl’s voice is far away. Trenton is sitting next to me. I’m still holding the phone, but it’s hanging loose in my hand, nowhere near my ear. I don’t remember lowering it.
“Katie?” he says, reaching for it.
He takes it from me, his voice shifting as he brings it to his ear. “Hello?”
I don’t hear what’s said next. I get up and walk to the end of the table, each step slow and automatic, like my body’s moving without me. Sarah’s beside me now, saying something. I stand there, staring straight ahead, the world coming back in pieces that don’t quite fit together.
“Katie?” Her hands are on my shoulders now, shaking me. “Katie, are you okay? What’s going on?”
I blink at her.
“My mom,” I say, the words thick.
She frowns, confused. “Your mom? What about your mom?”
I swallow, but it doesn’t help. Everything in my head buzzes wrong.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh God,” Sarah says, wrapping her arms around me.
I don’t move. I can’t.
“I want Michael,” I whisper, my voice thin and frayed.
“What, sweetie?” she asks, pulling back, her hands still on me.
“I want Michael,” I say again, louder now, panic creeping in, breaking through the numbness. “I need him. I need Michael right now.”
Tears burn behind my eyes before they finally spill over.
“Please,” I say, grabbing onto her sleeve. “Please just take me to him.”