He hung up before I could argue.
Twenty-seven minutes later, I heard his car pull into the driveway.
He came through the front door carrying a bag of groceries, still wearing his work jacket.
“Where are you?”
“In the kitchen.”
He found me sitting at the table with a cup of tea.
He put the groceries down, kissed my cheek, and then looked at my face.
“What happened?”
“I told you. A little pain.”
His eyes moved toward my stomach.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he pulled out the chair opposite me.
“Mom, when was the last time you saw a doctor?”
I tried to smile.
“I see a doctor when I need one.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I had my blood pressure checked last year.”
“Last year?”
“It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Mom, it’s October.”
“I know what month it is.”
He leaned back and looked at me carefully.
