“Uh, yes?”
“Hi. It’s Marie Harris, Abram’s sister.”
MARIE! How could I have forgotten awesome Marie?
Oh jeez. I quickly tested my breath, and then abruptly stopped myself when—obviously—I realized it didn’t matter if my breath smelled bad. Unless they’d invested in olfaction-phonics and updated my phone without telling me, the status of my breath didn’t matter.
“Hi, hi! Hi, Marie. It’s nice to, uh—” SCHRÖDINGER! And all his cats, dead or alive. I couldn’t say, It’s nice to talk to you again, because when we’d first met, I’d been Lisa. Damn lies. Clearing my throat, I said the first thing that popped in my mind, “How may I be of service?”
“Uh, yes. Well, Abram asked that I call. He’s here.”
“In Michigan?” my mouth asked, just as my brain thought it.
“No. In LA. We’re at the hospital—”
Hospital. Hospital. Hospital. Why did that word feel like being hit on the back of the head with a large, heavy, blunt object? All concerns about my previous lies vanished.
“—found him this morning. His fever was quite high, and an ambulance was called. Leo called me as soon as he found out and I arrived just an hour ago. They’ve been able to bring down his fever, and he’s tested positive for the flu. The doctors were worried about a secondary infection, but the CT scan and blood work came back okay. The doctors say he looks good to be discharged tomorrow, but they want to keep him overnight for observation.”
Hospital. Oh God.
My throat was choking me. “Is he okay? I mean, I know he has the flu, but is he—I mean—will he—is he—”
“They think he’s going to be fine.” Marie’s voice was infinitely patient and reassuring and was exactly what I needed to hear. “Just to be safe, they’re keeping him overnight and plan to get another blood draw in the morning. But, yes, he seems to be okay. Cranky, obstinate, and giving me dirty looks from across the room, but okay.”
“He’s there? Can I—is it okay for him to talk?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I just wanted to explain the situation first, answer any questions, to save him from having to speak unnecessarily, since he is very sick.”
I swallowed around a lump of guilt. I wanted to talk to him—desperately—but not if it would endanger his recovery. “If he’s too sick to talk, I completely understand. It’s obviously more important that he recover than—”
“No, no. It should be fine if you two talk. I just wanted to remind my brother that he is very sick and—under no circumstances—will he be performing tonight or flying to New York this evening. Here, let me put him on.”
I heard a grumbly, angry voice in the background, and it mollified the sharpest edges of my anxiety. Being well enough to feel and express anger was far better than the worst-case scenarios I hadn’t even realized I’d been imagining.
A brief silence on the other side was followed by the muffled sound of Marie saying, “Yes, I will keep it on speaker. And no, you can’t hold the phone. Fight me.”
And then Abram said, “Mona.”