The first born.

“Wake up! Wake up! Come on, I need you to wake up!” Mom pleaded.

It was dark and I was struggling to break free from the deep sleep I was enjoying.

“You have to sit by the phone in case she calls,” Mom said as she guided me to the chair, by the phone, in the kitchen.

What?  Who calls?  I am freezing.  What’s happening?

“Your sister has not called from the school.  She is at rehearsal for the spring production.  It is so late and I am worried.  I am going down there.  You tell her to stay there if she calls.”

Mom was frantic.  She gathered her things and put on her shoes while she dictated the information to me.

She left.  The house was completely quiet.  The only sound was the ticking clock. 

The clock.

I turned to look at the clock’s face. 

It was nine o’clock.