The Pikesville Buffalo

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Late that November, a few months after his twenty-four year-old wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, Daniel felt a sudden urge to see the Great Aunts. He tried Ethel first, calling five times over a two-hour period, but kept getting the busy signal which meant either that she was talking to one of her children or stepchildren or — more likely — that she’d taken her phone off the hook to avoid talking to them. Finally, he called Zippo and got her on the first try.

“Of course, dear,” she told him, sounding muffled as ever, as though she were speaking through the orange wool shawl she always kept about her shoulders.

“Could you beam the news over to Aunt Ethel?”

“What? Oh, Daniel.” It was an old joke, his father’s, about the telepathic link that seemed to connect the sisters.

“How’s your lovely Lisa, honey?” Zippo asked.

“Okay, I think. Still not sleeping very well. The doctors think they got it all.”

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