48 Hours
an excerpt

A phone call ended Angela’s life.
Well, it wasn’t really the phone call that did, more the cancer. But the phone call was the start. Her mom answered. Since it was just the phone, no one took notice of it. The chaos ensued outside the call. Adam and Angela kept arguing about how Angela turned her “crappy” music up too loud, Sally and Kelly were shrieking because Michael was chasing them, and their dad was at work. Suddenly Kelly let out an ear-piercing scream, and Angela jumped into “Mom” mode.
“Kelly!” Angela said. “Cut it out!”
“You too, Mike.” Adam said, rubbing his hands through his hair. “That’s enough chasing.”
“But I want to!” Michael said at the same time Kelly said, pointing, “It’s Mike’s fault!” which caused another screaming match, between all five of the kids. Cheerio, their dog, sensing excitement, loped into the kitchen and started to bark loudly. Everyone still ignored their mother on the phone, until they heard her say into the phone, very politely,
“Hold on a moment, please.” She pressed the phone to her chest and yelled, “Be quiet! I am on the phone!” Everyone became silent. They didn’t want to deal with their mother in an angry mood, so they all started to listen.
“No…we’ve been perfectly healthy…what? No. Angela’s been perfectl…oh. Well, we had tests done when we were there yesterday… yes. You should have it… yes, that’s it.” She held the phone to her chest again. “Sally, go to the fax machine.” Her voice was shaking.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Michael asked, immediately sensing something. Adam and Angela nodded as well. But their mother had turned back to the phone.
“I don’t understand…you mean it’s incurable?...I…I don’t believe this. No. She can’t…” Sally ran in with a piece of paper. She handed it to their mom.
“Salls, what did it say?” Angela asked.
Sally shrugged. “It was a bunch of medical stuff, I couldn’t understand it.”
They all turned back to their mother, who was reading the paper Sally had handed her.
“Oh, God.” Their mom was saying into the receiver. She was shaking. She fell onto the floor, the phone in her hand. “How long?” There was a long pause and their mom yelled, “How long?!” There was a slight noise from the phone. “Oh. I see. Thank you for telling me. Goodbye.” Her mom hung up. There was complete silence in the kitchen, then their mom looked up at Angela, crying.
“Angela, you have cancer. You have forty eight hours to live.”