Monkey Business

jamie’s wake-up call

Wednesday, February 11, 6:12 a.m.

Ring.

I jump into the upright position. Who the hell is that? It’s six in the morning. Oy.

“Jamie?” The voice sounds hoarse, scratchy.

It takes me a few seconds to place it. “Mom?”

“Honey. Bubbe…”

I’m now wide-awake. “Bubbe, what?”

“She had a stroke. A few hours ago.”

My head pounds. Shit. “Is she…?”

“No, she’s in the hospital. Miami General. In the ICU.”

“I’m getting on the next flight.”

“What about school?”

“Don’t worry about school. Are you okay?”

She starts to cry. “No.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s talking to one of the nurses.”

“Is she cute?” It’s my feeble attempt at a joke. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel compelled to make people laugh, even now?

“What, dear?” She didn’t hear, thank God.

I pull out my suitcase and start packing. “Okay, Mom, don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” I know I’m lying as I say it, but I say it anyway.