Truth
Page 32
“I gave them our credit card.”
“No.” He shook his head, “Shedis-tics paid it.”
Sophia smiled, “That’s nice.” Then her expression darkened, “But weird, how’d they know we were even here? I mean you didn’t know until last night.”
“I don’t know.” Derek smiled, “But man, this company has perks!”
Sophia tried to push the uneasiness away. Obviously Derek saw this as a positive. She wouldn’t be the one to bring him down. She smiled, “I guess that means more money for breakfast.”
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.
“No.” He shook his head, “Shedis-tics paid it.”
Sophia smiled, “That’s nice.” Then her expression darkened, “But weird, how’d they know we were even here? I mean you didn’t know until last night.”
“I don’t know.” Derek smiled, “But man, this company has perks!”
Sophia tried to push the uneasiness away. Obviously Derek saw this as a positive. She wouldn’t be the one to bring him down. She smiled, “I guess that means more money for breakfast.”
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.
