She rolls her eyes. “Just some heartburn from your delicious dinner. Nothing to worry about.”
I sit up straight. From my many years of dating Joel, I’ve heard him describe enough stories of heart attacks that my radar immediately goes up. He told me once that women don’t have typical heart attack symptoms, so sometimes it’s harder to identify.
“Are you short of breath?” I ask her.
“No.”
“Is there pain radiating down your left arm?”
Nonna gives me a look. “It’s just heartburn. Stop worrying.”
But then she rubs her chest again. And winces.
“We should have it checked out,” I say. “Does your doctor have an after-hours line?”
“Doctor?”
I stare at her. My mother mentioned that Nonna didn’t like going to the doctor, but I’m shocked that she doesn’t even have one. How do you live to be so old without having a doctor? “Nonna! You don’t have a doctor?”
She waves a hand at me. “I don’t need a doctor. I lived this long without doctors. They just give you medicines that make you sick.”
“That’s the opposite of what a doctor does.”
“Says you.”
But then she winces again. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but she seems to be breathing a little fast. I don’t know what to do. Nonna is so damn stubborn—she could be having a heart attack in front of me, and she wouldn’t let me take her to a hospital.
“I’m going to call 911,” I decide, reaching for my phone on the coffee table.
“If a paramedic comes into my home,” she says, “I am going to hit him over the head with a frying pan.”
I don’t doubt that she would.
If I were still dating Joel, I would call him and ask him to examine her. She would let him, because he’s my boyfriend. But that’s off the table now, obviously. After our conversation last month where he accused me of terrorizing his girlfriend, I can’t even ask him as a friend. Especially not on Friday night, when he’s surely with Olive.
But there’s one person who might come.
I reach into my wallet and pull out the white card. I never got rid of Dean’s card with his phone number scribbled on the back. Although at this point, I’m sure he’s assumed I’m not calling him. And on a Friday night, he’s surely busy.
I look up at Nonna. She’s still rubbing her chest. Does her face look flushed?
Screw it. I’m calling Dean.
The second I punch in the number, my heart leaps in my chest. It rings once, twice, three times… I’m about to give up when I hear Dean’s familiar voice on the other line: “Hello?”
This is so awkward. I never should have called him. He probably won’t remember me at all. “Um… so… I’m sure you don’t remember, but we met at the park a couple of months ago when you were buying a hot dog and—”
“Sophia Loren!” He sounds thrilled. “I can’t believe it’s you! I’d nearly given up hope.”
“Yes, well…” I clear my throat. “The thing is…”
“You haven’t been able to get me out of your head and you want me to rush over right now and ravish you.”
“No.” I cough and look over at Nonna. “I’m sorry, I know this is awkward, but… my grandmother is… well, she’s having chest pain and she doesn’t have a doctor… and she says if I call 911, she’ll hit them on the head with a frying pan…”