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As I stepped off the elevator, I noticed my apartment door was wide open.
My heart stopped, but I forced myself to breathe.
Don’t panic. Maybe Lorna just stepped out to grab something and forgot to shut the door.
While that was completely plausible, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stiffened.
“Mom?” I called when I stepped inside.
The apartment was empty. The only sound was the clicking of my heels on the laminate floor. “Mom, where are you?” I shouted, running to her room. She wasn’t there.
I checked my room next and the bathroom, but those were empty as well. The wheelchair stood in the foyer, so they hadn’t gone far. I spun around in the living room.
Think! Where would they go?
Pulling out my phone, I tried calling Lorna, but the call went straight to voicemail.
Shit! Maybe the reception is bad here.
I raced toward my balcony, and that’s when I saw her. My mother was on the concrete floor, curled up on her side.
“Oh, my god. Mom?” I kneeled beside her. “Mom?”
She didn’t open her eyes when I called her name. Nor did she wake when I shook her shoulders. But when I tried to lift her head, I noticed a pool of blood on the ground, matting her hair to the side of her face. Remembering the last time I’d found my mother on the floor, my stomach dropped. Instinctively, I put two fingers to her neck and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but she was still alive.
I ran inside to grab my phone but turned when I heard footsteps racing down the hallway. Lorna appeared at my doorway, her face sweating. Or was she crying? I couldn’t tell because she wiped at it before I could ask.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said.
“I have to call 911. My mother’s hurt.”
“I called them,” she said, gasping for air and holding her side. “When my phone didn’t work, I ran downstairs and across the street to the dental office to use their phone. The ambulance is on its way.”
I ran back to my mother to check on her. Her breathing was shallow and her face was pale.
“What happened?” I asked Lorna, smoothing my mother’s dark hair away from her face.
“She wanted to go outside for some fresh air, but she wasn’t having a good day today, so I suggested the balcony. We sat outside for a bit when I noticed goosebumps on her arm. I told her I’d go in and get her a sweater. I was in her bedroom when I heard her shouting something about a green sweater, so I went back into her closet to look for a green one when I heard the crash.”
Lorna rubbed her face and sobbed into her hands. “I don’t know what happened, but when I ran to the balcony, her chair had fallen over and your mother was unconscious on the ground.”
She started shaking, so I pulled her into my arms and squeezed her tight. “It’s okay,” I murmured.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”
“This could have happened to anyone,” I said.
We both turned toward the entrance when a knock sounded on the door.
“Did someone call an ambulance?” a deep voice asked from the living room.
“Out here!” I called. “On the balcony.”
Two paramedics rushed toward us. “Ma’am, please step aside,” the burlier one said.
Standing on our narrow balcony, I flattened myself against the wall to make room for both of them. They checked my mother’s limbs before strapping a brace on her neck. Slowly, they lifted her onto the gurney.
“Which hospital are you taking her to?” I asked.
