#mm004

Taylor had specifically asked me not to call him. She was hardly coherent what little time she was conscious, but I had been told “No Tyler,” she had added as an after-thought, snapping her eyes open after decided I was to call her mother and only her mother.  

“Hello?” he answered, yelling over a nearby crowd.

“Where are you?” I asked, checking my watch and calculating Seattle-time. 10pm.

“It’s Thursday,” Tyler changed the topic, “Are you alright?”

I knew he’d immediately be concerned. I was a creature of habit and called every Tuesday night, and it was, in fact Thursday.

“I can’t-  Ty, can you-” 

The background noise was too much. And this was something he should hear alone. 

“Hang on, I’m moving.”

As I listened to muffled movements and other voices, waiting for my brother to return to the phone, I became more nervous and stressed. I closed my eyes. 

You have to tell him. 

“Joanna? That better?”

“Much. Hi.”

“Hi. What’s going on?”

I paused and considered how to begin. 

“I cannot stress how confidential this is-”

“Yes, yes, Madam Mayor. Please just tell me what’s going on. I am a vault. Nothing leaves it unless your wife asks. She’s very mean and will get it out of me, you and I both know that.”

“No. You can’t tell Taylor,” I snapped. It came out far harsher than I’d intended. 

“Jesus, Joanna, what is it?”

“She’s hurt.”

“I can’t tell Taylor that she’s hurt?” He decided to be a wise-ass. 

“For fuck’s sake Tyler!” I heard him suck in a breath and when he wisely chose not to respond I continued, “She’s in the hospital. She didn’t want me to tell you but I need... Tyler-” 

It was my turn to fill my lungs with oxygen; a distraction from my eyes filling with tears.