Journal Entry Eleven
The Phone Call
It’s almost nine in the morning. I’m up. Just lying here staring at the ceiling. Not really asleep. Clouds are slowly passing over my apartment as if to make a statement. The phone rings. I hate to answer it. It’s my mom. Ricky passed away at three this morning, while I was so selfishly sleeping. My mom, dad and my brother, Darrell, went to the hospital to identify the body. I’m glad I went to the hospital the other day and told him I loved him. It would be unspeakable if he died before I got to say that one last time.
Enrique was the brother I was the closest to. I could always talk to him about life, problems, men. On Christmas and my Birthdays he was the one brother who remembered me. His gifts were special, meaningful, and from the heart. A specia
