Sisters (19 page)

“Just grayness and a little light apparently,” Sabrina answered. “He said she may see shadows eventually, or even some color, but that's not even a sure thing. This is pretty much the way it's going to be forever, a gray and black world and nothing she can distinguish.” Chris shook his head as he listened, and touched Sabrina's cheek with gentle fingers.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

“Me too,” she said sadly, moving closer to him with tears in her eyes.

“How was she when you left her?”

“Sedated. She sobbed for hours and the nurse finally offered to give her something. I was ready to take some too. This is going to be a nightmare while she adjusts to this. I have to call that shrink he recommended. I'm worried she's going to wind up in a major depression, or worse.” People had committed suicide for less, which was now her greatest fear. No one in the family had ever had suicidal tendencies, but none of them had ever lost their mother and their sight either. She wanted to do everything possible to help and protect her sister. That was what sisters were for.

Tammy went upstairs to lie down, and took Juanita with her. Candy went outside to stretch out at the pool, and Chris and Sabrina went with her, with Beulah and Zoe. The Yorkie jumped into the pool and looked like a drowned rat when she came out. Beulah liked walking across the steps at the shallow end to cool off, but preferred not to go swimming. It made Sabrina smile to watch them, and lightened the mood of the hour.

They sat and chatted quietly for a while, and eventually Jim came out to join them. He swam laps with powerful strokes up and down the length of the pool, and was tired when he finished. He was in excellent physical shape, but his whole body seemed to droop when he came to sit next to them. It was hard to believe that his beloved Jane had been gone for exactly a week.

“I'll go with you when you go back to see Annie,” he said to Sabrina, and she nodded. Her sister needed all the love, support, and help she could get. And their father was an important person in their life. He was less hands-on than their mother had been with them, but he was always there in the background, protecting them and loving them, lending an ear or his support. Annie needed everything he had to give right now. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Sabrina said honestly. “She just found out. It was a hell of a shock.”

“What about her boyfriend in Florence? Do you think he'd come over to see her? That might cheer her up.” Sabrina hesitated for a long moment, and then shook her head.

“I don't think so, Dad. I called him a few days ago, and he wasn't very supportive.” She didn't have the heart to tell her father that he was a jerk, and he was gone. “This is a lot for any guy to deal with, and he's young.”

“Not that young,” her father said sternly. “I was married and had you when I was his age.”

“Things are different now.” He nodded and went to get dressed. He was ready to leave when she was, and Tammy came with them, Candy begged off. She said she had a headache and was still feeling sick. They had all been through so much that week that Sabrina didn't want to push. She could stay with Chris.

Their second visit of the day to Annie was even worse than the first. She was still sleepy from the sedation and had sunk into a depression. She just sat in her bed and cried and hardly talked. Their father cried when he saw her and tried to tell her, in a broken voice, that everything would be all right. He told her she could stay with him, and her sisters would take care of her, which only made her cry more.

“I'm not even going to have a life. I'll never have a boyfriend again. I won't get married. I can't live alone. I can't paint. I'll never see another sunset or a movie. I won't know what any of you look like. I can't comb my own hair.” As she went down the list of all the things she could no longer do, it ripped out their hearts.

“There are a lot of things you still can do,” Sabrina reminded her. “Maybe you can't paint, but you can teach.”

“How am I going to teach? I couldn't see what I was talking about. You can't teach art history if you can't see the art.”

“I'll bet you could, and lots of blind people get married. Your life isn't over, Annie. It's just different. It's not the end of everything. It's a change.”

“That's easy for you to say. My life is over, and you know it. How can I go back to Italy like this? I have to live in my father's house, like a child.” She started to sob again.

“That's not true,” Tammy said quietly. “You can live with us for a while, till you get used to it. And eventually you can live on your own. I'm sure most blind people do. You're not retarded, you lost your sight. You can figure it out. There are schools that teach life skills to blind people. After that you can live on your own.”

“No, I can't. And I don't want to go to school. I want to paint.”

“Maybe you can do sculpture,” Tammy suggested, as Sabrina gave her a thumbs-up from the other side of the bed. She hadn't thought of that herself.

“I'm not a sculptor. I'm a painter.”

“Maybe you can learn. Give yourself time to figure this out.”

“My life is over,” Annie said miserably, and then cried like a child, as their father wiped his eyes. It occurred to Sabrina then that they might have to get tough with her, and force her to make efforts that she wouldn't make otherwise. Tammy was thinking the same thing. If Annie was going to feel sorry for herself, and refuse to cooperate, she would have to be pushed. But it was way too soon to tell. She had just found out, and everything was still horrifying and new.

They stayed with her until dinnertime, and then much as they hated to do it, they had to leave. They were all exhausted, and she needed to rest. They had been with her most of the day, and promised to come back in the morning, which they did.

Sunday was more of the same, if anything it was worse than the day before, as the reality sank in. It was what she had to go through, in order to accept what had happened to her. They left her at six o'clock. It was Tammy's last night. She still had to pack, and she wanted to spend some time with their father. Chris had promised to make lasagne, and he was going back to New York that night.

Tammy kissed Annie as she lay in bed, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see them. Her eyes were still a vibrant green, but they were useless to her now.

“I'm leaving in the morning,” Tammy reminded her, “but I want you to kick some ass while I'm gone. I'll come back for a visit, maybe on Labor Day weekend, and by then I want to see you doing lots of stuff on your own. Is that a deal?”

“No.” Her younger sister glowered at her, but for the first time she looked mad instead of sad. “And I'm never going to comb my hair again.” She sounded five years old, and they all smiled. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable lying there in bed. Sabrina had brushed her coppery hair, and it shone. The nurses had washed it for her.

“Well, in that case,” Tammy said practically, “I guess you're right. You won't find a husband or a boyfriend, if you stop combing your hair. I hope you plan to bathe.”

“No, I won't,” Annie said, sitting in bed with her arms crossed, and they all laughed. In spite of herself, Annie did too, for just an instant at least. “This isn't funny,” she said, starting to cry again.

“I know it's not, baby,” Tammy said as she kissed her. “It's not funny at all. But maybe all together we can make it a little bit more okay. We all love you so much.”

“I know,” Annie said, sinking into her pillow. “I don't know how to do this. It's so scary.” Tears were streaming from her eyes.

“It won't be after a while,” Tammy reassured her. “You can get used to anything, if you have to. You have the whole family behind you,” she said, with tears in her own eyes.

“I don't have Mom,” Annie said sadly, as two big tears rolled down her cheeks, and her father turned away.

“No, you don't,” Tammy conceded, “but you have us, and we love you with all our hearts. I'll call you from L.A., and you better tell me some good stuff. If Sabrina tells me you're smelly, I'll come back and give you a bath myself, with my loofah that you hate.” Annie laughed again. “So be a good girl. Don't be a big pain in the ass.” It was what she used to tell her when they were kids. They were only three years apart, and Annie had been a pest when Tammy thought she was nearly grown up. Annie had squealed on her a million times, especially about boys. And Tammy had actually threatened more than once to beat her up, but never had.

“I love you, Tammy,” Annie said sadly. “Call me.”

“You know I will.” She gave her one last kiss and walked out of the room. The others kissed her, and left too. Sabrina said that she and Candy would be back the next day, but not before the afternoon. She didn't tell Annie, but she was going to see the house in New York the next morning. She was leaving for the city at the same time Tammy left for the airport, at eight o'clock. Sabrina was taking Candy with her too, so if they liked it, they could make a decision on the spot.

They all tried to come up with ideas for Annie that night over dinner. There was no question, she had to go to a special school for the blind. She was right, there were so many things she couldn't do now. She had to learn them all, and how to deal with them without sight—filling a bathtub, making toast, combing her hair.

“She has to see a shrink,” Sabrina insisted. She had called the psychiatrist and left a message on her voice mail. “And I thought your sculpture idea was great,” she said to Tammy.

“If she's willing. That's going to be the key. Right now she feels like her life is over. And it is, as she knew it. She has to make the transition to a new life. That's not so easy to do, even at her age.”

“It's not so easy at mine either,” their father said sadly, helping himself to the excellent lasagne that Chris had made. “By the way, I think you should give up law and become a handyman and cook.” Chris had been worth his weight in gold for the past week, being helpful in a thousand ways. “You can have a job here anytime you like.”

“I'll keep it in mind, if I get tired of class-action suits.”

But their father's comment made them all realize that his adjustment was going to be hard too. He had been married for nearly thirty-five years, and now he was alone. He wasn't used to taking care of himself. He had relied on his wife for more than half his life, and he was going to be lost without her. He couldn't even cook. Sabrina made a mental note to ask the housekeeper to start leaving him meals he could reheat in the microwave, once they were gone.

“Every widow and divorcée in the neighborhood is going to start knocking on your door,” Tammy warned him. “You're going to be a hot commodity around town, and in great demand.”

“I'm not interested,” he said glumly. “I love your mother. I don't want anyone else.” He hated the idea.

“No, but they'll be interested in you.”

“I have better things to do,” he growled. But the trouble was, he didn't. He had absolutely nothing to do without his wife. She had taken care of everything for him, organized their social life, planned everything. She had kept life interesting for him, with trips into the city for symphony, theater, and ballet. None of his children could imagine him doing any of that for himself. He had been totally pampered by her. And as a result had become dependent on her.

“You'll have to come into the city and have dinner with us, Dad.” Sabrina reminded him about the house they were seeing the next day.

“It sounds cute.”

“It might be, or could be a horror. You know how real estate agents are. They lie like dogs and have terrible taste.” He nodded, suddenly thinking how lonely he was going to be in the house when the girls left again.

“Maybe I should retire,” he said, looking depressed, and all three of his daughters responded at once.

“No, Dad!” And then they laughed. The last thing he needed was to strip his life down even more. He needed to keep busy, and do more now, instead of less. That much was clear. “You need to work, and see friends, and go out just the way you did with Mom.”

“Alone?” He looked horrified, as Sabrina sighed and Tammy glanced across the table at her. Now they had Annie to take care of and their dad.

“No, with friends,” Tammy said. “That's what Mom would want. She wouldn't want you sitting here alone, feeling sorry for yourself.” He didn't answer, and a little while later, he went upstairs to bed.

Chris went back to the city after dinner, so he could get to work on time the next day. Sabrina hated to see him leave, but she was grateful for all his love and help. He kissed her tenderly before he left, when Sabrina walked him out to his car.

“It's been a hell of a week,” she summed it up.

“Yes, it has. But I think everyone's going to be okay. You're lucky you have each other.” He kissed her again. “And you have me.”

“Thank God,” she sighed, and put her arms around his neck as he sat in the car. It was hard to believe that the accident had happened only eight days before. “Drive safely. I'm coming into the city tomorrow to see the house. But I won't stay long. I have to get back out here. Maybe I can leave Candy with Dad, and come in for a night this week.”

“That would be nice. See how it goes. I'll come on Friday, if you want me.” It suddenly felt like being married, with a husband who came out on weekends, while his wife stayed in the country with the kids. Only in this case the “kids” were her father and two sisters. Sabrina felt as though she had suddenly become everybody's mom, including her own. “Try and take it easy, Sabrina. Remember you can't do it all.” He had read her mind. “I'll call you when I get home.” She knew he would. Chris was solid, reliable, a person you could count on. He had proved that yet again in the past week. But it wasn't news to her. It was part of what she loved about him. Other than her father, Chris was the best man she had ever known.

“If you don't marry him, I will,” Tammy teased her when she walked back into the house. Beulah walked into a corner of the kitchen, glared at them miserably, and looked depressed. She was always sad when Chris left. “I want a guy like him. Normal, healthy, nice, helpful, good to my family, and he can cook.
And
a hunk. How did you get so lucky and I wind up with such jerks?”