Sisters (11 page)

They went to the funeral home and were back in two hours. They had done all the awful things they had expected, chosen a casket, funeral programs, mass cards, a room to hold “visitation” in, where their friends could come to visit the night before the funeral. There was no “viewing” because it was a closed casket, nor a rosary, because their mother was Catholic but not religious. The girls had decided to keep things simple, and their father had been enormously relieved to let them make the decisions. He couldn't bear the thought of doing it himself. They both looked pale and tired when they came back, and by then their father and Candy were at the kitchen table, and Chris was making the same hearty meal he had cooked for them, and he even teased Candy into eating. Much to their amazement, their father cleaned his plate, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, he wasn't crying.

Sabrina and Tammy had agreed, they had to tell them about Annie then. It couldn't be put off. They had a right to know. Sabrina started to tell them after breakfast, and found she couldn't. She turned away, and Tammy stepped into the breach, and explained everything the ophthalmologist had said the night before. The bottom line was that Annie was blind. There was stunned silence in the kitchen after she said it, and her father looked at her as though he didn't believe her or hadn't heard her correctly.

“That's ridiculous,” he said, looking angry. “The man doesn't know what he's talking about. Does he know she's an artist?” They had had the same reaction, so they couldn't fault him. But it didn't change anything. This was going to be a huge adjustment for all of them, but nothing compared to what it would be for Annie. It would be catastrophic for her, a tragedy beyond measure. Telling her would be the worst moment of their lives, other than their mother dying, living with it the worst moments in hers, forever. That was the hard part. Two impossible concepts for any of them to fathom, particularly related to Annie. Blind. Forever. It boggled the mind, and made the heart ache just thinking about it. The only thing worse was their mother gone forever.

“You mean like with a white stick?” Candy said, looking stunned about her sister, and sounding like a five-year-old again. She seemed to have regressed back into adolescence or childhood since the day before when her mother died. In contrast, her two older sisters felt four thousand years old.

“Yes. Maybe. Something like that,” Sabrina said, feeling exhausted. They had shared enough bad news for a lifetime, and Chris reached over and patted her hand. “Maybe a seeing-eye dog, or an attendant. I don't know how all this works yet.” But she was sure they were all going to learn, if they were lucky enough to have the chance. That wasn't sure yet either. But the shock of Annie's blindness kept them from thinking about what would happen if she died.

Their mother's funeral had been scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, after the long weekend. Tammy had contacted caterers to serve the throngs of people who would come to the house afterward. Interment would be private, and both older sisters had decided to have her cremated. Their father had said it was all right with him, and her mother had left no instructions as to her preference.

“Annie hates dogs,” Candy reminded them all. Sabrina hadn't thought of that.

“That's true. Maybe now she'll have to change her mind. Or not. It's up to her.”

Their father said very little, other than that he thought several specialists should look at her. He was convinced that the doctor who had operated on her was out of his mind, and the diagnosis completely wrong. Sabrina and Tammy doubted that was the case since Bridgeport Hospital was a Level I Trauma Center, but agreed to ask their doctor to bring in someone else. But the surgeon had been so specific with them, and so thorough, that it was hard to believe he might be mistaken. It would have been nice if he was, but Sabrina thought her father just wasn't ready to give up hope. She couldn't blame him. Everything about this experience had been excruciating for all of them. And Annie hadn't even started to face the challenge yet, or the rest of her life without her sight.

Candy went upstairs to shower then, and their father to lie down. He didn't look well, his coloring was sort of a greenish gray. And when they had gone upstairs, Sabrina mentioned Annie's boyfriend Charlie in Florence again. This time Tammy agreed that they should call. If he was calling her cell phone, he might be getting worried. It had disappeared somewhere under the truck. Luckily for them, there was an address book in the suitcase in her room, and Charlie's cell phone number was in it. It was all too simple to find him. Sabrina said she'd make the call, as Chris and Tammy sat at the kitchen table with her while she did. He answered on the second ring. By then it was dinnertime in Florence. Sabrina explained who she was, and he knew immediately, and laughed.

“Is the big sister checking up on me?” He didn't sound in the least daunted or surprised to be hearing from her, or even worried.

“No, I'm not actually,” Sabrina said cautiously, not sure yet how to tell him. It would have been easier if he'd been worried by the call, and suspected something was wrong. He seemed to have no concerns at all about why she might be calling, which seemed odd to Sabrina.

“How was the Fourth of July? Annie never called,” he said blithely.

“No … that's why I'm calling. There was an accident here yesterday. We never had the party,” she explained. There was silence at the other end of the phone. He was getting it finally, as Sabrina went on. “My mother and Annie were in a head-on collision with two cars and a truck. Our mother was killed instantly, and Annie was very severely injured, but she's alive.” She wanted to give him the good news about Annie first. He sounded stunned.

“How severely? And I'm sorry about your loss.” It was a phrase she was beginning to hate. She had heard it at the funeral parlor, the hospital, the florist. It seemed to be the pat phrase everybody said now, although she was sure he meant well. It was hard to know what to say in the face of such enormous shock. She would have been hard-pressed for words herself, and after all she and Annie's boyfriend were strangers. All they had in common was her sister, which was a lot. Particularly now. Although he didn't sound quite as distraught as Sabrina would have hoped. Mostly surprised.

“Very severely,” Sabrina said honestly. “She's still in critical condition, and she had brain surgery last night. She seems to be doing well, but she's not out of the woods yet. I thought you should know, as I gathered from her that you two are very close, and very much in love. I didn't want you to feel that we didn't let you know, especially if you'd want to come over. She's still heavily sedated and will be for the next few days, if everything goes well. She's on a respirator, but they're hoping to take her off it tomorrow, if we're lucky.”

“Jesus, is she going to be a vegetable or brain dead or something?” The way he said it upset Sabrina. It sounded cruel to her, particularly given what Annie would be facing. But he didn't know that yet.

“There's no reason to think so, and the surgery went well, to reduce the swelling to her brain. She had a good night last night.”

“For a minute you had me worried. I can't imagine Annie suddenly being retarded or a vegetable. If that were the case, she'd be better off dead.” He was remarkably insensitive, particularly for a man who'd just been told that the woman he loved had nearly died. Sabrina already didn't like him, but made no comment. He was after all the man her sister loved, and she owed him some respect for that, or at least some leeway, and the benefit of the doubt, which she gave him.

“I don't agree with you,” Sabrina said quietly. “We don't want to lose her, whatever condition she's in. She's our sister and we love her.” And supposedly he did too.

“Does that mean you won't unplug her if she's brain dead?” Sabrina not only didn't like him, she was beginning to hate him, for the ugly things he said. He had the sensitivity of a rubber duck.

“That's not the issue,” Sabrina said. The rest was coming, and she was curious about his reaction now, particularly as an artist, who shared that world with her. “The impact of the accident caused some other damage. Some pretty important stuff. She had eye surgery last night, which didn't go as well as the brain surgery.” She took a breath and finished it off, as Tammy and Chris watched her. They could read her displeasure on her face. She hated the guy and didn't even know him. “Charlie, if she survives, Annie is going to be blind. She already is. There's nothing they can do to restore her sight. It's going to be a huge adjustment for her, and I thought that you should know so you can support her.”

“Support her? How?” He sounded panicked, although he knew her parents had money. But maybe, he told himself, they didn't want to support a blind kid and wanted to foist her off on him. If that was the case, they had called the wrong number. Sabrina thought she had anyway, in every possible way. She felt deeply sorry for her sister. But not everyone was lucky enough to find a man like Chris. He was a gem.

“She's going to need your love and support. This is going to be a huge life change for her, the biggest she'll ever face. It's not fair and it's awful, and all we can do is be there to help her. If you love her, you're going to be very important to her.” There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.

“Now wait a minute. Let's not go crazy here. We've been dating for six months. I hardly know her. We have a good time, we share a passion for art, she's a fantastic girl, and I love her, but you're talking about a whole new deal here. Art is a piece of history to her now. Her career as a painter is over. Shit, her life could still be over. And she's going to be blind for the rest of her life? What am I supposed to do about that?” He was running scared, and she could hear it.

“You tell me,” Sabrina said coldly. “How do you see yourself participating in her life?” Chris winced when he heard the question, and they could both tell it was not going well. Just listening to their end of the conversation, Tammy had decided he was a jerk. Chris was more inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, as Sabrina had, but so far he wasn't impressed. Sabrina had had to say nothing to console him, which said it all to him.

“How do you expect me to participate in her life?” Charlie asked Sabrina. “I'm not a seeing-eye dog, for chrissake. I've never had a blind girlfriend. I don't know what that's about or what it feels like. It sounds pretty heavy to me. And why are you calling me like this? What do you want from me?” He was moving rapidly from scared to angry.

“Nothing, actually.” Sabrina bit the words off at him, trying to hold her temper. She would have liked to give him a piece of her mind, but for Annie's sake, she didn't dare. She didn't want to make things worse, or scare Charlie off forever. It sounded like he was headed that way anyway, but Sabrina didn't want to be the cause of his disappearing into the sunset prematurely. Annie had a right to do that herself, or not if she preferred it. She needed him more than ever now. And it wasn't up to Sabrina to tell him what to feel or how to behave. “I'm calling because my sister is under the impression that you're in love with her. She's in love with you. She had a terrible accident and almost died yesterday. Our mother did. And as a result of the accident, we found out last night that she's going to be blind for the rest of her life. If you love her, I figured you'd want to know. I have no idea what you want to do about it. That's up to you. You can send her a get-well card, come to visit her, be there for her, or walk out on her because it's too much for you. It's your choice to make, and I'm sure it's not easy. I just figured you'd want to know what's going on. She has a lot of very, very hard stuff to face. And as far as I know, you're important to her.”

Charlie sighed as he listened to her, wishing he'd never heard any of it. But he had, thanks to her. And he knew that ultimately, he'd have decisions to make. This wasn't easy for him. He had no money, had taken a year off from a job in New York, and was committed to being an artist. He'd had a good time with Annie, and thought he was in love with her. But a blind girl, whose talent and career as an artist had just gone down the tubes? It sounded like heavy furniture to him. Way too heavy for what he had in mind, or thought he could handle in his life. He decided to be honest with Sabrina, since she had been honest with him.

“I don't know what to say to you.”

“You don't have to say anything. I just called to inform you. I figured you'd want to know, or might be worried if you hadn't heard from her.”

“Actually, I was. But not that worried. I had no idea something this crazy could happen to her. To be honest, Sabrina, I don't know if I can do this, or even if I want to. She's a great woman, and she was a terrific artist. But she's going to need a lot of care and support. She'll probably be depressed out of her mind for the next several years, maybe forever. That's too much for me to carry. I can't. I don't want to be a psych nurse, or a guide dog for the blind. I can hardly keep my shit together myself, I can't take on hers too. Not major stuff like this. I don't want to kid her into thinking I'll be there for her now. She needs people she can count on, and I don't think I'm one of them. I'm sorry. But I just don't think I have it in me.” He sounded sad as he said it, and he was surprisingly open with her. “I think she needs someone a lot stronger and less self-centered than I am.” Sabrina was inclined to think he was right. He knew himself well, and was brave enough to say it. She had to give him a few points for that, but not many. She had expected a whole lot better from him, and from all that Annie had said, Sabrina thought he loved her. As it turned out, he didn't, or not enough to overcome what had happened. “What are you going to say to her?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I can't say anything to her yet. She's not conscious. But if and when she is, what do you want me to say, if anything? I don't have to tell her I called you. You can call her yourself and tell her whatever you want to say, when she's further down the road to recovery, although that's going to be a very hard time for her.” Sabrina dreaded the impact of his leaving her, on top of everything else.