Free The Wally Lamb Fiction Collection: The Hour I First Believed, I Know This Much is True, We Are Water, and Wishin' and Hopin' by Wally Lamb

occasions. Diabetes? No, not that I knew of.
    Dan wanted to know if there was anything else I could think of.
    “Just hearing loss. The TV’s always shouting when I call her. She claims I mumble.” When
I
call
her:
now there was a face-saving lie.
    “That’s helpful,” Dan said. “We’ve been assuming Louella’s incomprehension is stroke-related, but maybe she’s having trouble hearing us.”
    “She goes by Lolly, actually. Not Louella.”
    “I’ll make a note of that. Now, let’s talk about her family history. I’m assuming both her parents are deceased. Can you tell me what they died of?”
    “Well, let’s see. Her father—my grandfather—died of Alzheimer’s.”
    “At what age?”
    “I’m not sure. His late seventies, maybe?”
    “What about her mother?”
    “She died during childbirth.”
    “Of?”
    “I don’t know. Childbirth, I guess. Lolly and my father were raised by their grandmother.”
    “So she has a brother. Any other siblings?”
    “No. My father was Lolly’s twin.”
    “Was? He’s deceased?”
    “Yeah…. Yup.”
    “And what was the cause of his death?”
    The question tightened my grip on the phone. “Officially? Officially, it was internal injuries and … loss of blood. His legs were severed.”
    “Were these war injuries?”
    “No. He was a drunk. He was fishing off a trestle bridge, and they think he must have passed out or something. And a train came along.”
    “Whoa. That’s tough. And how old was—”
    “Thirty-three. But look, like I said, my wife can fill you guys in a lot better about Lolly’s medical stuff. And as far as her medications, what I can do is get hold of her handyman. Have him go by the house and look around. Make a list, or bring you her prescription bottles, or whatever.”
    Dan said that would be super. One more thing. Did I think I was going to be able to make the trip back to be with my aunt?
    “Oh, well, it would be tough…. But if it becomes necessary.”
    Dan said he understood. Were there friends or other family who might be able to check in on her? Stroke was such an upheaval. So frightening. Familiar faces were reassuring at a time like this.
    “Uh, well … I know she gets together, plays cards with some of the gals she used to work with. And they go down to the casino once or twice a month. Eat at the buffet or whatever.”
    “Sounds like my mother,” he said. “Is one of her friends Kay? She keeps asking for Kay.”
    “I don’t know. There’s a Hilda. And a Marie. A Shirley.”
    Dan thanked me. I thanked him. “Dr. Salazar will be coming to the phone shortly,” he said. “Can you hold?”
    Maybe the lite-rock station Dan switched me to was penance for my shortcomings as next-of-kin. I bit at some ragged skin on my thumb. Grabbed a beer out of the fridge. The deejay had a theme going: “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” “Colors of the Wind,” “Windy.” When was it that FM radio had started sucking? The eighties, right? The Reagan era?
    That morning’s newspaper was on the counter. “NATO Air Strikes in Yugoslavia Intensify” … “Hockey Great Gretzky to Retire” … “Love Bug Computer Virus Delivers ‘Fatally Attractive’ Message”… Before we moved west, I’d promised Lolly I’d get back to see her twice a year—summertime and Christmastime—but I’d reneged. Hadn’t even gone back for Hennie’s funeral…. And what did my father’s shit-canning his life have to do with Lolly’s stroke? Nothing, that’s what. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut…. I saw Lolly, standing at the doorway of my algebra class, freshman year—not Ma, not Grandpa. As soon as I saw her there, I knew Daddy was dead.
    I crooked the cordless against my shoulder. Filled the dogs’ water dish. Finished my beer….
Stroke is such an upheaval, so frightening….
This Dr. Salazar was taking
his
sweet time. They must teach that tactic in medical school: keep the loved ones waiting, so that by the time you pick up the