“You’re a solid chick, Sarah,” I say. “I’ll bring your clothes back to you ASAP.”
Phoebe and Falon are still visiting with Dad when I make my way back into the lobby. Martin and Smith swap places as lookout, and Martin offers to find me a cup of coffee. I want to go with him. I want to thank him for coordinating all this, but he’s in the elevator heading toward the cafeteria before I have a chance to say anything at all. Maybe I’m reading too much into things, but it almost felt like he didn’t want to talk to me. Like getting coffee was as much of an excuse for him to have some space as it was to get me some caffeine. Not that I need any caffeine at this point. My body is buzzing with adrenaline.
I take a seat next to Nana Rosie in the lobby. She’s sipping a cup of tea that smells a lot like bathwater and socks. “How are you holding up, Nana?”
“I’m all right, all things considered. Your father is a tough old bird. He’s going to be OK.” She squeezes my hand. “How are you holding up? You smell a hell of a lot better.”
“Thanks to you guys,” I say.
“Thanks to Martin.”
“Right.”
“You know, I’m no romance writer, but there’s something terribly romantic about a man who’s not afraid to bend the rules or look like a fool for the people he cares about.”
“Yeah.” A crooked smile takes shape on my face. “Though I’m not sure how much is Martin caring for me and how much is Martin being a genuinely great guy.”
“Maybe it’s both.”
Maybe.
“Penny, Nana,” Phoebe calls from across the lobby. “You’re up.” She nods toward the hallway where my father’s room is. “They’re taking him back in fifteen minutes.”
“Come on, Nana.” I hold my hand out for her to take, but she shakes her head no. “What’s wrong?”
“You go on your own, dear,” she says. “I’ll see him when he gets out of surgery.”
“But Nana, what if something happens?”
“It won’t.”
“But—”
“Penelope, I’ve had seventy-six years to tell your father that I love him, and he’s had just as long to tell me.” She pauses. “I’ve said everything I could ever need to say. The two of you have not.”
I don’t argue the point with her. She’s right. There’s enough unsaid between my father and me to fill the pages of an anthology. I can’t possibly say all of it now, but at least I can make a start.
“I’ll let him know you’ll see him after surgery, Nana,” I say. “Do you want me to tell him anything else?”
“No more doughnuts,” she says, before turning her attention to an old copy of People magazine. “I’d add no more cigars, but I don’t want to destroy his will to live.”
“No more doughnuts it is.”
My father doesn’t look like a man who just had a heart attack. He looks like he’s napping on the chaise in the den on Sunday morning after brunch. There should be copies of the Sunday New York Times and Wall Street Journal draped over his chest, rustling with the rise and fall of his breath. The crossword from the local paper should be on the end table next to him, perfectly completed in black ink.
I lean over his bedside and kiss the top of his balding head. A smirk spreads across my face as I think about how he’d say his hairline is receding, not balding. Old men and action heroes bald, Penelope, he’d always say. My hair is simply adjusting to its current market conditions. I watch his breathing while a nurse takes note of the numbers on his monitors.
“Can he hear me?” I ask her.
“Sure. He’s not in a coma,” she replies. “But he is heavily sedated.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected for him to not be alert. “Do you know if he’ll remember anything that I say to him?”
“I’m not sure.” The nurse’s voice is as soft as velvet. “In my experience, most people don’t remember what their loved ones said, but they can tell that they were here. You can see it in their vitals.” She points to the monitors next to him. “Since you came in, his heart rate is steadier than when his last visitors left.”
This woman could be completely bullshitting me, but in this moment, I choose to believe that what she’s saying is true.
I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. I remember when his hands used to seem as big as baseball gloves. He’d cradle me in them and lift me onto his shoulders when we went to the beach and my legs got tired from trudging through the sand. My mother would always insist that he put me down before he pulled a muscle, but Dad never listened.
One day, she’ll want nothing to do with me, Silvia, he would say to her. And then I’ll have wished I carried her more.
I don’t remember the day I stopped letting him carry me. I’m not sure of the exact time in which I didn’t want anything to do with him either. I just know that he was right.
Before the nurse leaves to check on another patient, she tells me that Dr. Vance will call him back for surgery soon, but I can stay with him until then. She closes the door behind her, and I suddenly become aware of all the machines connected to my father. I take some comfort in knowing that they’re making sure my dad is OK. The beeps from all the different machines fill the room like the chirps of crickets on a balmy summer night. The soft shuffling of doctors and nurses outside the room going about their work as usual mimics the comforting din of the ocean tide. If I closed my eyes, I could probably fall asleep in this chair, holding his hand.
“I went through a lot of shit to get here tonight, Dad. Literally. Don’t be surprised if the Donaldsons ask you to resod their front lawn.”
I’m nervous. My dad isn’t even awake and I’m still not sure what to say. Why is this so hard? Why can’t it just be easy for once? All I could think about was how important it was for me to be here—to not leave the hospital—and now that I’m here, I feel like I’m wasting this opportunity to be real with my dad with zero risk of rejection. Something inside me is still worried I might disappoint him. My head knows it’s not possible—it’s not like he’s in a position to keep score and rate everyone’s performances—but my inner child isn’t exactly on board yet.
I close my eyes and try to center myself. Smith’s words from earlier poke at the back of my brain. They can’t be disappointed by someone they don’t really know. Maybe now isn’t the moment to try to right every wrong or make up for lost time. Maybe now is the time to just say what I feel.
“I love you, Dad,” I whisper. “And I know you love me.”
When Dr. Vance’s team arrives to take him into surgery, I give him one last kiss on the forehead and whisper Nana Rosie’s new rule about doughnuts. I can’t say for certain, but I think he might’ve smiled.
His surgery lasts an hour longer than expected, but as Nana Rosie predicted, he comes out of it fine.
Chapter 23
We decide to take shifts after my father pulls through surgery. It’ll be hours before he can have visitors again, but my mother hates the idea of him waking up without anyone there. Martin agrees to take the first shift. He has work to do, informing the company of my father’s health and making sure that everything continues to run as seamlessly as possible, so he says he doesn’t mind staying at the hospital.
My mother and Nana Rosie are exhausted. We all are. Martin insists that we go home to get some sleep, and for the first time in family history, everyone agrees. I’m asleep within seconds of my head hitting my pillow.
“I think I’ll be able to get out of our lease.” Falon breezes through the kitchen, where Phoebe and I are making lunch, with her wet hair twisted up in a towel. “We’ll probably lose our deposit, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s not such a big deal.”