Sisters (10 page)

“I have my mom's address book here. I'm going to call everybody now.”

“I'll help when I get there if it's not too late by then.” But he suspected it would be. The party was in four hours, and it would take him three to drive out.

“I'll get there as soon as I can,” he said again. “I love you, Sabrina.” He was already thinking about taking some time off from work, if he could. It was the least he could do for her, and the funeral would be in the coming days, and awful for them. He just hoped Annie would be okay. That would just be too much for them. Losing their mother was bad enough and a terrible shock. Losing Annie too would drive them all over the edge. He couldn't even think about it. Or the possibility of her surviving blind. For an artist, on top of it. He just hoped that she'd survive, in whatever condition.

Sabrina called the caterers first, to cancel, and then everyone on the list. It took two hours, and was nearly unbearable. She had to tell each person what had happened. And all of their friends were in shock once she had. Many of them offered to go over and see her dad, but she told them she thought it was too soon. He had been in no state to see anyone when he left the hospital. She had called Tammy at the house several times, and she said they were both sound asleep, mercifully. The Valium had done its job. Tammy had taken nothing. She wanted to be alert, just as Sabrina was.

It was six o'clock when Chris arrived, looking flustered and worried about her. He found her in the waiting room, staring into space, thinking. Annie had been in surgery for four hours by then. The resident said they were halfway through the surgeries, and it was going well so far. Her vital signs were holding firm, which was something at least, but not enough. They hadn't started the eye surgery yet, and were still operating on her brain. Sabrina tried not to think about it, and collapsed in sobs in Chris's arms when he walked in. They sat together and talked for several hours, about her mother, Annie, her father, all of them. There was so much to think about and so little that any of them could do right now. All they could do was wait, and pray for Annie.

Tammy had called the funeral parlor again from the house, and started to make arrangements, and decisions. She told Sabrina that they had to go there in the morning and pick a casket. And they had to go to the church too, and set a day and time for the funeral, pick the music, find a photograph of their mother for the program. It was nightmarish thinking about it. How could this be happening to them? But it was. It was all too real.

At eight o'clock Sabrina sent Chris to the house to take over from Tammy. She said that their father had woken up and was crying again. She wasn't sure whether to give him another Valium or not. Candy was still out like a light. Chris told Sabrina he'd cook dinner for them, and Tammy could come back to the hospital to wait with Sabrina. Half an hour later Tammy was back, and the two sisters sat in silence in the waiting room, huddled together and holding hands. Eventually they had their arms around each other and just held each other that way. They couldn't seem to get close enough to each other, as though if they did, nothing bad could happen to them. Or at least nothing worse than what already had.

“How was Dad when you left?” Sabrina asked her, looking worried.

“He was happy to see Chris. He just sobbed in his arms. The poor guy is just a mess. I don't know what's going to happen to him when we all leave.”

“Maybe I can commute for a while.” Sabrina looked pensive. It would be a tough commute for her, with the hours she kept, but others did it. Her father did, although his office hours weren't as long as hers. He had been lightening his load for several years, to spend more time with his wife. And now what? He would come home every night to an empty house. Sabrina didn't want that for him.

“That's crazy. You can't do that,” Tammy said.

“Maybe he could stay with me,” Sabrina said cautiously.

“That's even worse. You won't have a life. And he's not ninety years old, for chrissake. He's fifty-nine. He'll want to be out here, in his own house.”

“Without Mom? Don't be so sure. I'm beginning to wonder if he can manage without her. After all these years, he was totally dependent on her. I don't think I realized that till today.”

“You can't judge by today,” Tammy said, sounding hopeful. “We're all in a state of shock. He is too. He'll have to get used to managing on his own. Other men his age do, and even older ones, who lose their wives. Maybe he'll get married again,” she said, looking upset, and her older sister looked horrified.

“Don't be ridiculous. Dad? Are you kidding? Mom was the love of his life. He's never going to get married again. But I'm not convinced he can take care of himself either.”

“He's not an invalid. And he's an adult. He'll have to figure it out like everyone else does. He can visit you, if he wants. But don't ask him to move in. It would be impossible for you, and not good for him either. He was dependent on her. He can't transfer it to you now, unless you want to give up your life and become the spinster daughter,” Tammy teased.

“I already am,” Sabrina said, and laughed for the first time that day.

“Don't make it a lifetime habit,” Tammy warned her, “or you'll be sorry. And it wouldn't be fair to Chris. This is your time, not Dad's. He had his life with Mom. Now he has to move into a different stage. Maybe he should see a shrink.” They were busily planning his life, without consulting him, but it distracted them from the agony of their mother's death only hours before, and their sister fighting for her life.

“Do you suppose we should call Charlie?” Sabrina asked after a momentary lull. The time ticked by too slowly, waiting for news of Annie.

“Annie's Charlie? In Florence?” Tammy looked surprised by the suggestion.

“Yeah. I just thought maybe he'd want to know. I think they've been pretty serious for the last few months. Annie says he's a great guy, rock solid. I think she might move back to New York with him. Mom was hoping she would.”

“Have you met him, or talked to him?” Tammy asked, and Sabrina shook her head. “Then I think we should wait. We don't know anything yet. Things could get a lot better, or worse. Let's not shake him up more than we have to. This is pretty heavy stuff, for a guy who's just been dating her for six months, and they're young.” Sabrina nodded. It sounded sensible to her too.

It was nearly ten when Annie finally came out of surgery. She had been there for almost eight hours, and as far as the doctors were concerned, it had gone well. She had survived it. She was still on the respirator, but they were going to try and take her off it in a few days. She was young and strong, and her vital signs were good, even during surgery. They had managed to take the pressure off her brain, and they were hopeful that there was no long-term damage. If she regained consciousness soon, it would bode well for her future. They gave them all the good news first. She was still in critical condition, but as they told her sisters, they were guardedly optimistic, depending on how she came through the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours. But they were hopeful that she would live, without long-term damage to her brain.

And then came the bad news. They had saved the worst for last. The most important was that she had survived the surgery, and the operation on her brain had gone well. But the eye surgery hadn't. Her optic nerves had been severed and could not be repaired. The damage to her eyes was so severe that even a transplant could not help her. There was no question and no hope. If Annie lived, she would be blind.

Tammy and Sabrina sat in shocked silence when they heard it, and made not a sound. They were too stunned to move, and then finally Sabrina spoke up.

“She's a very talented artist,” she said, as though that would change their verdict, but it didn't. The ophthalmologist just shook his head and told them he was sorry. He felt she would be very lucky if she lived, and they agreed. But what kind of life would she have if she was blind? Knowing her as they did, they couldn't imagine it, and suspected she would rather be dead than blind. Everything in her life was about art and sight. What would Annie do without that? Her entire education and life were related to art. It was horrifying to think about, but losing her completely would be worse.

“Are you sure about her sight?” Tammy asked softly.

“Completely sure,” the eye surgeon said, and he left a little while later, as the two sisters sat in the waiting room alone again, holding hands, and then silently they both began to cry, for their sister and each other and themselves, for the mother they loved so much and would never see again. They clung to each other like two lost children in a storm. The nurses saw them and kept their distance, sorry for them. They knew how much they'd been through, and could only imagine how hard it was.

Chapter 7

The doctors told them that Annie would not wake
up that night, she was too heavily sedated, and they needed to keep her that way, to avoid movement of her brain. And there was no point for them to stay in the waiting room all night. Annie was in no imminent danger, and the nurses in the ICU promised to call if there was a problem. They suggested that Sabrina and Tammy go home and come back in the morning. They were exhausted when they walked through the front door of the house. Sabrina hadn't been there since they got the news, and Tammy had been at the hospital for hours. It was hard to believe it was the same day as the one in which they'd left the house, after learning of their mother's death, and going to find Annie. The day had been a thousand years long, and every one of them bad.

“How's Annie?” Candy asked as they walked into the kitchen. She was sitting groggily at the kitchen table with Chris, having just woken up. She had gotten a lot of mileage out of the single pill. Their father had gone back to bed after taking a second one, which Chris gave him, per Tammy's instructions before she left. He had liked talking to Chris, and they had both cried about Jane, and Chris told him how sorry he was.

“She's doing okay,” Sabrina answered. “She came through the surgery very well, so they told us to come home.” She and Tammy had agreed not to say anything about her sight that night. It was just too much to absorb, another huge blow, and this time late at night. They had agreed to wait until the next day to share the news that she was irreparably blind. It was going to be a lot to swallow, and for Annie most of all. She was going to need all of their support.

“How are her eyes?” Candy persisted.

“We don't know yet,” Tammy said quickly. “We'll know more tomorrow.” Chris watched her face and then looked at Sabrina. He didn't like the way Tammy had said it, or the look in Sabrina's eyes, but he didn't question them, nor did Candy, who just nodded, and drank from her water bottle, while the dogs scurried around the kitchen floor. Chris had fed them and let them out several times. There wasn't much else for him to do, since both Jim and Candy had been asleep most of the time. He just sat quietly, thinking, and played with the dogs. He was afraid to call Sabrina and disturb her, so he just waited to hear the news when they got back. Officially, it sounded pretty good. Privately, he was not so sure, but said nothing. He was there to help, not to probe.

He asked no further questions until he and Sabrina were alone in her room with the door closed. Candy was sleeping with Tammy that night. They both needed the comfort. “Is your sister really doing okay?” he asked Sabrina, looking worried, and she stared at him for a long, quiet moment.

“Brain-wise, yes, I think. As well as she can be, after brain surgery.”

“And the rest?” he asked softly, and she met his eyes.

She sat down on her bed and sighed. She didn't even have any tears left. She was totally wrung out, and just grateful Annie was still alive, and hopefully would stay that way. She had a headache from crying all day. “She's blind. They can't fix it or do anything about it. If she lives, she will always be blind.” There was nothing else she could say. She just looked at him with the depths of her sorrow for Annie. It seemed bottomless and without measure. She couldn't imagine any kind of life for Annie without sight, or what would happen to her now. A blind artist? How cruel was that?

“My God…what does one do with that? I guess it's a gift that she's alive, but she may not look at it that way.” He looked as devastated as Sabrina felt.

“I know. It scares me. She's going to need a lot of support.” He nodded. That was an understatement.

“When are you going to tell your dad and Candy?”

“Tomorrow. We just couldn't face it tonight. It was too much, for all of us,” she said sadly. They hadn't even had time to properly mourn their mother, they were too worried about Annie. But maybe that was a blessing in its own way.

“But you know anyway, poor baby,” Chris said about Annie's eyes, and then took Sabrina in his arms and held her. He put her to bed as though she were a child, which was just what she needed. It was as though overnight she and Tammy had become the parents. Her mother was gone, her father was falling apart, and her sister was blind. And she and Tammy were carrying it all on their shoulders. With one single moment and act of fate, their whole family had been struck down, and nothing would ever be the same again. For Annie most of all, if she survived, which wasn't sure yet either. Nothing was anymore.

Sabrina fell asleep in Chris's arms, and had never been so grateful for any human in her life, except her mother. But Chris was a close second, and he cradled her and comforted her all night. She knew she would never forget it, and would be grateful to him forever.

She, Chris, and Tammy got up early the next morning. He cooked breakfast while the girls showered and got ready to go to the funeral parlor. Candy and their father were still asleep. Chris took care of the dogs, and was waiting at the breakfast table with scrambled eggs and bacon and English muffins. He told them they had to eat to stay strong. Sabrina had called the hospital as soon as she got up, and they said that Annie had had a good night and was doing well, though still heavily sedated so she didn't move too much and jostle her brain so soon after the surgery. They were going to start reducing the sedation the next day. She and Tammy were planning to go back and see her, but they had so much to do first, and all the “arrangements” to make. Tammy said she had always hated that word, and all that it implied, and even more so now.