The nurse gave me a strange look. “Is there family we should call?”
I called Susan in Oregon. I had her number because it was on a list taped inside the cabinet by the phone, in Mrs. Whitaker’s perfect cursive. In case of emergency.
Susan cried on the phone. She said she was getting on the first flight she could. She asked me to
please stay with her mother until she got there.
So I stayed. I called my other client for the afternoon and canceled. I called my neighbor to get Willa off the bus. I sat in the hospital waiting room while they did surgery on Mrs. Whitaker’s hip,
and then I sat next to her bed in the recovery room while she slept.
When she woke up, it was dark outside. She looked at me for a long time without saying anything.
“You’re still here,” she said finally.
