The Turning Tides

CHAPTER Four

HOMECOMING



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It had been three grueling days, and he still wouldn’t wake up. I sat by his bedside, numb with fear. I couldn’t stop wondering if I’d done something wrong to allow this to happen. What good was this muse magic if I couldn’t use it to protect my own father?

The doctors shuffled in and out. Every conceivable expert had run his own series of tests without any conclusive answers. Finally, they agreed that it was safe to reduce his medication, satisfied that there was no permanent brain damage. No one seemed to be able to explain why he wouldn’t regain consciousness.

“It might help if you talk to him,” a neurologist had suggested.

“Can he hear me?” I asked anxiously. It seemed like I’d been camped at his bedside forever, fidgeting nervously, or holding his hand and feeling utterly helpless.

“You might be surprised,” he shrugged, “The brain is a mysterious organ.”

So is the heart, I thought.

The head wound had been deemed minor, but the whole right side of his body had suffered enormous damage. Both of his legs, even the one recently healed from the helicopter accident, were in plaster casts. His right arm had been pretty much shredded, and was surrounded by all kinds of wrappings and braces, tubes going in and out. I could barely bring myself to look, and sat on his left side.

I started talking, telling Dad about Abby’s new baby, how much I liked surfing, and my experiences at school. I talked about Ethan, explaining all of the things I loved about him. I told him how much they were alike, and how I knew they were going to get along. I described Aptos, my paintings, and all the happy events I could think about from the past year.

There was a whole lot to avoid.

When I ran out of things to say, I started reading aloud to him. I read the daily newspapers, poetry, and anything else I could get my hands on. Evie had Dad moved to a private room, working her own brand of magic to make it as comfortable as possible. She filled the room with beautiful flowers, light and music, attending to even the smallest of details.

Evie was on a mission, going over Dad’s charts, contacting outside specialists, and making sure that every medical protocol was followed to the letter. Always at her best when she was on task, I watched her perform with ruthless efficiency, and it gave me hope that everything would turn out alright. With Evie in your corner, how could you lose?

I called Ethan every day, pouring out my hopes and fears across the vast ocean. He was encouraging, and hearing his voice always made me feel better.

“I miss you,” I told him, “I can’t wait to come home… to bring my dad home.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he reassured me. “I wish you were here right now.”

“Evie says they might be able to move him in another week.”

“Hurry home,” he said urgently, “Stumpy misses you.”

I laughed, “What is he up to today?” Apparently Stumpy the cat had made a great deal of progress in the past few days, and was now able to hop around the house.

“He can officially get up on the bed now… And he insists on sleeping in it. There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d rather have you there.”

“Tell him I’ll be there soon,” I sighed. “I love you.”

~

Evie watched over me as well as she did my father, pulling me out of the hospital to go out and eat some “decent food” at least once a day. Paul would come to sit at Dad’s bedside when I left, promising to call us the moment anything changed. Evie tried to take me shopping, but I wouldn’t have any of it, always hurrying back as soon as possible.

That didn’t stop Evie. She thrived on retail therapy, and ended up buying me so many clothes that it was soon clear I’d be going home with a whole new wardrobe. She would burst into the hospital room with armloads of shopping bags, and I halfway expected my father to sit up and protest her excesses like he always did.

On the fifth day Dad’s eyelids started to flutter, and I leaned over him to see them open. He struggled to focus, finally seeing my face.

“Adria?” he croaked out.

“No dad… it’s me, Marina,” I told him, but the recognition slipped out of his eyes and they slowly shut again. Evie came in to find me crying.

“You need a break,” she said firmly.

“I can’t leave him now,” I wailed.

She regarded me with frustration, and left the room. A few minutes later she returned with Paul, and the two of them insisted I get out for some fresh air.

“I’ll be right here with him,” Evie promised.

“You need a workout,” Paul said, handing me a bag packed full of new gear, “You’re behind on your training.”

I sighed and agreed, changing and following Paul out of the hospital to a pretty little park. It was a crisp clear autumn day, and the fiery leaves seemed even more brilliant against the bright blue sky. We took a quick jog around a path that circled a pond, and stopped at a playground where he had me do some chin-ups.

He lifted me up to the highest bar, and when I was exhausted, he reached up to take me down and lowered me slowly, setting me down and brushing the hair out of my eyes, “Are you alright Vanderpool?”

I nodded up at him, “I’ll be okay… it’s just that…” my voice caught in my throat when I remembered my dad thinking I was my mother. What if he couldn’t remember me? My eyes filled with tears and spilled over.

He led me to a bench and sat us down with his arm around my shoulders, giving me a rough squeeze, “I’ve seen plenty of guys a lot worse than that who come out of it one hundred percent.” He reached up to wipe the tears from my cheek, bringing his forehead to mine and looking me square in the eyes, “Listen soldier, there’s no crying in combat… Now drop and give me twenty.”

I smiled, and did. By the time I got showered off and back to my dad’s room I was exhausted.

“Thanks, Paul,” I nodded, taking over the watch for Evie. I put on some music and curled up in the recliner by his bed. When I woke it was dark outside, and I sat up to stretch with a yawn.

“Is it Beethoven?” my father asked.

I wheeled around to meet his clear eyes. He looked towards the music player.

“Yes… yes… I think it’s Moonlight Sonata,” I stammered.

He sighed, “It was your mother’s favorite.”

“Oh Dad!” I yelped. I leapt out of my chair and hugged him, taking care not to disturb his arm.

“What happened?” he asked, and I pulled back to see him struggling to remember. He squeezed his eyes shut, “I was talking to you on the phone… Oh no… Oh my God… Hamid!”

His face was terrible when he finally remembered. I could see him piece it all together and my heart ached for him. A man had been blown to bits in front of him, and I knew that he’d feel responsible for the accident. He felt responsible for everything.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told him gently.

“But his family… his wife,” he struggled to sit up, his voice anguished.

“I’ve taken care of it,” Evie’s voice rang out from the doorway. She must have heard me cry out. She came in and stood beside me. “They’ll not want for anything.”

He nodded, falling back onto his pillow, “Thank you Evie.”

Over the next few days, we prepared to take him back to San Francisco. There was more bad news from Afghanistan; Evie had to sit down and tell my father that his field laboratory had been looted, and all of his valuable research had been lost or destroyed. He was despondent.

“I spent a whole year away from Marina for nothing,” he said grimly.

“Martin, there will be other opportunities for your research to go forward. We’ll have you back at work in no time at all,” she promised.

“Look at me,” he said, holding up his mangled hand. “I’m no good to anyone like this.”

Evie was at a loss for words, and I could tell that she never expected things to go so completely off the rails. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to dealing with failure, so she threw herself into making sure everything having to do with the move home was executed perfectly. She lived on the phone, making all kinds of appointments and arrangements, and lining up the best specialists in San Francisco for consultations.

Evie was in complete management mode, and when she got this way about anything, failure was simply not an option.

Moving day finally came, and Dad grimaced with pain as we loaded him into the ambulance. I felt completely helpless, cringing along with every bump and jolt. My phone rang, and I looked to see it was Ethan.

“Can I call you right back?” I asked.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

I was wound up tight, watching my father’s arm flopping helplessly, “We’re just taking my father to the airport.”

“Didn’t you get my messages?” he asked impatiently.

Paul interrupted me, calling out in the background, “Are you going to ride along?”

I lowered the phone, “Yes Paul! Just a minute, okay?”

“Are you too busy with Paul?” he asked bitterly.

I turned away, “What? Ethan, I have to go now… I’ll call you later.”

I hung up abruptly and climbed into the ambulance, taking Dad’s good hand and patting it gently. I stayed by his side the whole flight, fretfully watching him suffer. Before I knew it we were touching down in San Francisco and Boris was there to help carefully move his cot from Evie’s jet. We loaded him into another ambulance and brought him directly to the huge freight elevator at the back of Evie’s building. It opened up into Evie’s vast pantry, and I watched as Boris wheeled Dad through her kitchens and across the hall to our apartment.

“Velcome home sir,” Boris said solemnly.

Clearly, he had been very busy while we were away. The place had been completely remodeled. The first thing I noticed was a hospital bed set up in the library just adjacent to the kitchen. I peeked into the guest room to discover all of Cruz’s things were missing.

I ran back out, “Where’s Cruz?” I asked, alarmed.

Don’t worry dear, I’ve had him moved to an apartment one floor down. We’re still neighbors.”

I walked into my former art studio to find that Cruz’s sewing room had been transformed into a rehabilitation facility that would be the envy of any medical center. There was a ton of weightlifting equipment, a stretching contraption with all sorts of pulleys and straps, massage tables, and a treadmill facing a giant television screen. A whirlpool Jacuzzi sat on a pedestal overlooking the magnificent view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“There isn’t a hospital around that’s better equipped,” Evie’s voice rang out behind me.

I turned to see her, standing alongside a black-eyed beauty with mahogany skin and glossy, raven black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She somehow managed to look stunning draped in a shapeless medical smock; even her unfashionable eyeglasses couldn’t hide the fact that she was a gorgeous woman. A dark woman. Fatima’s words rang in my ears.

Evie came up beside me, gesturing, “Marina, allow me to introduce you to Doctor Amrita Permala. She’s an orthopedic surgeon and an expert in physiotherapy and nutrition. She’ll be supervising your father’s recovery.”

“Hello,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. She took mine formally, awkward and stiff.

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” she said solemnly, her piercing dark eyes darting away nervously.

“Boris has been assisting Doctor Permala in acquiring everything she’ll need for your father’s medical care.”

I looked around, “It’s very impressive.”

“Amrita will be staying in the guest room and monitoring your father’s condition around the clock,” Evie announced.

“Oh,” I was surprised, “I was planning on sticking around to help for awhile…”

Evie smiled, “That’s wonderful news! I assumed you’d want to get back to school right away.” I could see her mind working, “You’ll love attending college in the city! I can make arrangements to have you transferred into San Francisco–”

“I’m not planning on moving back... I just wasn’t going to leave him until I know he’ll be okay on his own,” I said defensively.

Once again, I felt like Evie was trying to manage my life– and separate me from Ethan. I was a little annoyed that she hadn’t consulted me before hiring someone, but then again, my father’s condition was grave enough to warrant a professional. I knew that Evie had our best interests at heart, and she knew a good deal more than I did about medical matters. She was always right, I told myself… Except about Olivia… And probably Yuri.

I studied Doctor Permala skeptically, noticing how she clutched her clipboard tightly, and twisted a pen in her hand with nervous fingers. “I’ll just go check on Dad,” I announced, leaving the room.

Boris had transferred my father to his new hospital bed, and was busy showing him how to operate the controls. I left them to it, retreating to my room to call Ethan.

“Where are you? Are you at the airport? What’s going on?” he started in with a barrage of questions, finally complaining, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple of days.”

“We just got back home,” I said, “I had my phone turned off in the plane… What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve been worried… Every time I call you I get that Paul guy… It just sounds like… He acts like you don’t want to talk to me… He seems to think–”

“Paul can be kind of blunt,” I explained, recalling his no-nonsense attitude. “But I don’t know what we would have done without him. He’s been a huge help.”

He was quiet for a minute, “When are you coming home?”

“Oh Ethan…” I sighed, “I miss you, but I can’t leave my dad like this. I think I should stay at least for a couple of days to make sure he’s gonna be okay.”

“Can I come up?”

“I was hoping you would! You need to meet my dad.”

“Did you tell him about us?” He sounded anxious.

“No, I thought we planned on doing it together.”

“Good,” he said with relief, “How about I come up right now?”

I frowned, “I’m afraid he’s kind of tired from the travel… I was thinking maybe the three of us could have dinner together as soon as he’s up to it.”

“When do you think that will be?”

“I don’t know… But I want him to be awake when you meet. He’s taking a lot of pain killers and they pretty much wipe him out. He’s not really himself yet.”

“Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course I do!”

He sighed, “There always seems to be something keeping us apart.”

“I know,” I said, “But it won’t be much longer. I’m just so relieved we finally got him home.”

“It’s even worse knowing that you’re only a couple of hours away,” he groaned, “I get so lonely when you’re not around.”

“What about Stumpy?”

“He reminds me of you.”

“I promise I’ll be home soon,” I told him firmly, “And then we can get my studio moved in... and finally be together.”

He sighed a defeated sigh, “Tell me as soon as he’s better… okay?”

“I can’t wait,” I said.

“Funny,” he said, “That’s all I ever do.”





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