Truth - Romig Aleatha - Страница 24

Derek encircled her waist, spooned his wife, smiled into the mirror, and mused, “Mrs. Burke, I don’t think you can eat that much.”

Sophia removed her phone from her purse as Derek slipped their car into Boston traffic. The icon indicated missed calls. She listened to the messages, two from her mother.

Sophia’s expression said it all, something was amiss. Derek waited while she listened. Finally he spoke, “What is it?”

“It’s my pop. He’s been in a car accident. Mom thinks he’ll be okay, but I need to call.”

Derek nodded and reached out to squeeze his wife’s hand. As he watched her fumble with the screen of her phone, he changed the direction of the car. No longer were they headed to the Cape. He turned onto I-84 West. Before Sophia realized where they were, they were in Connecticut headed toward New York and on to New Jersey.

“Thank you. I’ll feel better seeing him in person.”

“What happened?”

“Mom isn’t sure. She kept saying, I was supposed to be with him, I should have been with him. She’d stayed home with a migraine. She’s blaming herself. His car went off the road near Sourland Mountain Reserve. He’s driven those roads a million times. The police speculate wet roads caused the accident.” She turned to her husband’s profile. “You know I’m proud of you and your new job? But maybe we shouldn’t mention it to them, not yet.”

Derek nodded, “Your pop will be fine. He has your mom to look after him.”

Sophia fought her emotion, as tears moistened her cheeks. “You know, I didn’t think about others. I got so wrapped up in myself and us.” Her chest heaved, “I never considered them when thinking about moving to California. If we were in Santa Clara we couldn’t just jump in a car and be there.”

“No, we’d jump on a plane,” he reassured, “which, considering this traffic, might be quicker.”

Sophia smiled. “Private planes, right... something to get used to!” Sighing, she leaned her head against the seat, watched the world pass-by, and settled in for the five hour drive.

*****

The gray clouds settled over Princeton, raining down and draining color from the urban landscape. Sophia considered drawing the scene, thinking about chalk, she’d need only black – devoid of color, the sketch would come to life in shades of gray.

She liked her hometown of Princeton, New Jersey. After all, it was where she experienced childhood, learned to walk, talk, and color outside the lines. And although her parent’s home wasn’t in the Borough, it was still Princeton, the home of the acclaimed university.

Sometimes growing up she hated the prestigious school. It seemed like the entire world revolved around it. Unlike so many of the locals, she knew in her heart the world offered more. However, now Sophia was eternally grateful for Princeton, especially its medical center.

Rubbing her eyes, Sophia yawned. She’d been in the hospital room, looking out the window, sitting in the plastic chair, and pacing the linoleum floors for hours. The monitors beeped at appropriate intervals without alarm; everything indicated her father’s progress. Sophia just wanted him to open his eyes.

Derek finally convinced Sophia’s mother, Silvia, to get some food. It was the first time she’d left Pop’s room since he returned from surgery. Sophia’s promise to stay near, allowed Silvia the reassurance to leave, if only for a little while.

Tears lingered in Sophia’s eyes as she watched the man who’d always been her rock. Nearing seventy, with declining stature, he wasn’t any taller than Sophia. Of course, he’d never been taller than five eight, but with age even that lessened. Yet, when she closed her eyes, Sophia saw the mountain of a man who’d scoop her into his arms and put her on his shoulders.

Throughout the five hour drive, she tried to convince herself she would arrive to find him sitting up and swearing at the nurses. The image made her smile. Pop was the sweetest man, as long as you played by his rules. And when you didn’t, he was more bark than bite. His contagious deep and harmonious laughter shook his too large stomach with joy. She imagined him arguing about the hospital gown, food, or television stations.

Yet, reality didn’t match her memories or dreams. The man before her, attached to wires and tubes, didn’t seem like her father. Nevertheless, the small bracelet on his wrist read: Rossi, Carlo; confirming he was indeed her pop.

The rain drops continued to silently pelt the glass pane. Sophia stared at the view. Instead of trees and buildings blurred by sheets of unrelenting spring rain, she saw memories she’d put away, as the saying goes – for a rainy day. She saw the hardworking man who came home from work each day. She saw her mother, wearing an apron in the kitchen, fussing to have dinner ready precisely by 6 PM. She saw the couple standing proudly and awkwardly at New York art exhibits and her Paris wedding.

Sophia thought how different she was from them and how much they’d given her. Instead of fighting her artistic side, they embraced it. They never belittled her dreams. Now, standing by her father’s bedside, she wanted to do the same. She wanted to support them any way she could. Currently, that meant hours of diligent vigil.

Sophia must have fallen asleep in the hard plastic chair she’d pulled up next to Carlo’s bed. She awoke with her head near his feet, her back bent and sore, to the swish of the door across the linoleum floor. She blinked away the sleep from her eyes and watched as a nurse entered the room. The wipe board on the wall read: Gabby.

Sophia remained silent as Gabby made her rounds, checking fluids in the hanging bags and making notes, reading monitors and making notes, and lifting Carlo’s hand, feeling his pulse and making notes.

When it appeared she was done, Sophia spoke, “Hello, I’m his daughter. Can you please tell me how he’s doing?”

Gabby checked her notes. “Can you tell me your name; I need to verify you’re on the list.” (Her R sounded like a W... a reassuring inflection to someone raised near the Borough)

“Sophia Rossi Burke.”

Gabby double checked her notes. “Yes, Sophia. Is your mother near?”

 “Yes, she’s with my husband in the cafeteria.”

“Do you expect her to return soon?”

 “I do... what time is it?”

Gabby checked her watch, “It’s almost eight thirty. The doctor is doing her final rounds. I’ll tell her you’re here, and she’ll inform you of your father’s progress.”

His voice sounded groggy, but Sophia would recognize that deep gargle anywhere. “If your talk’n bout me, you might as well talk to me.”

Sophia’s smile filled her face while the pent-up tears slid over her raised cheeks. Both women turned toward the bed. Carlo continued, “And what in Sam Hill are all these damn tubes. I don’t need damn tubes. I want them out!”

Sophia hurried to his side and threw her arms around his neck. “Pop, you’re awake?!”

“Damn right I’m awake. Where’s your mother? And why aren’t you with that husband of yours?”

“Mom’s with Derek in the cafeteria. She’s been by your side the whole time. We finally convinced her to get something to eat.”

Carlo nodded approvingly at his baby girl.

Gabby interrupted long enough to lift Carlo’s bed so he sat up, asked a few questions, and promised to send the doctor. Once they were alone Sophia held her father’s hand and looked him square in the eye. “Pop, what happened? How did you crash your car?”

Carlo returned her gaze, “My car? I don’t remember.”

She tried to reassure him, “It’s fine, just rest.”

“It’s not fine, Sophie. You’re saying I crashed my car? Is Silvia all right?”

“Yes, Pop. She wasn’t with you. You were alone... out by Sourland Mountain Reserve.”