Chapter 16: The Call Log

The doctor kept me overnight at Memorial Hospital to watch my lungs, and by morning I was being watched by everybody.

I woke up with a clip on my finger and a tube under my nose.

My sunglasses sat folded on the tray table with a sticky note on the arm.

It said, "Returned in working order. Four stars. No minibar."

The cleaner was two doors down, the nurse told me, and was telling people she had a bad review to write.

Then I noticed the chair by the bed.

Mom was in it with a binder.

It was her calendar binder, the one that ran the house, and she had made a new page.

The page said "BOBBY WATCH" at the top, in three colors.

Under it was a schedule in two-hour blocks, with a name beside each.

"Mom," I said.

"Don't talk, honey. You inhaled smoke."

"What is that column?"

"That's the bathroom escort," she said.

Dad sat in the corner with his phone, and every few minutes it made a small noise.

"What is that?" I said.

"An alarm," Dad said. "It says check Bobby. It goes off every fifteen minutes."

"I'm right here."

"I know, but I don't trust my eyes."

"Gordon set eleven alarms last night," Mom said.

"Twelve," said Dad.

I almost said something funny.

It was right there in my mouth, and I looked at the binder and swallowed it, because they were not being funny.

They were scared, and they had found a procedure.

"I want my phone," I said.

Colin handed it to me from the windowsill.

He had been standing there since I woke up, with his coat on, and he had not sat down once.

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