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
“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
