“I know. I know, baby. I have to get someone moving toward you. I will call right back.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
For the longest thirty seconds of my life, nothing happened.
Then it rang.
I answered so quickly I nearly dropped it again.
“I’m here,” Grandma said. “Help is coming. I am calling your dad next. I will stay on this phone with you as long as I can.”
I crouched beside the brick wall near the balcony door, exactly where she told me.
“Tell me five things you can see,” she said.
I did not understand why.
“The railing. The neighbor’s light. A tree. The curtains. My feet.”
“Good. Four things you can feel.”
“Cold. The wall. My pajamas. The phone.”
She kept me talking.
Inside, a shadow crossed behind the curtains.
I froze.
The door opened.
Warm air spilled onto the balcony.
Karen stood there, her face tight with anger.
“Who are you talking to?”
I clutched the phone to my chest.
Grandma’s voice was still audible through the speaker.
“Do not take that phone from her.”
Karen’s expression changed.
“Is that your grandmother?”
I did not answer.
She stepped onto the balcony.
“Give me the phone.”
I backed against the wall.
“No.”
