“Tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll be fine. I’ll have all my girls around to help, won’t I?”
“Yes, of course, Dad. Have you talked to Grandpa?”
Her father scrunched up his face. “No. But I don’t expect to for a while.”
“Seriously, Dad? You’re in the hospital and your father isn’t here to see you?”
“Chrissy!” her mother said sharply.
“I don’t have a problem with it, young lady, so you shouldn’t either,” her father said. “Now, why don’t you see if the nurse will bring me a ginger ale, eh? My throat is a little dry.”
Chrissy held back her scoff. Her father always did this, sent her off on a little errand to derail a conversation.
“Sure, Dad. I’ll be right back.”
A nurse showed her the refrigerator with the drinks, and she brought one back to her father’s room. Chrissy slowed when
she heard her mother speaking.
“She should know,” her mother said.
“No,” her father replied.
“Your father is out there—”
“Rose,” her father snapped. “It’s not up for discussion. She’s here and safe, isn’t she?”
“But for how long, Vince, huh?”
“Here you go, Daddy,” Chrissy sing-songed. She covered her embarrassment from eavesdropping with a too-cheery voice. She handed him the drink, but he waved her off.
“Mother,” he said to his wife, “help me with this bed. I need to sit up.”
“Of course.”
Chrissie watched, getting choked up as she watched her mother fuss over her father. Thirty years the two had been together, and they were always like this. They were interdependent, like the sun wouldn’t rise or set if they didn’t stand or sit next to each other. He waved for Chrissy to bring the soda.
“Thanks, Princess,” he said.
Chrissie bit her lip. He must have been hurting to fall back on his old nickname for her. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you, Dad.”
He took a sip of the ginger ale with a shaky hand, and gave it back to her. “Put it on the table.”
She did as he asked.
It shook Chrissy to see her father in this condition. She glanced at her mother’s eyes, and saw she was just as shaken. Oh, Rose Serafini kept that impassive mask that Italian women wore through adversity, but her fear was there in her eyes.
Questions loomed in her mother's eyes. Will he be okay? Get back his strength? Or will he be betrayed by his aging body?
There was nothing worse than watching your strong, capable parents laid low by the slow march of time and the inevitable problems of aging.
It was awful to contemplate that they wouldn’t always be there, that their lives would one day come to an end, just like hers would. It was difficult to imagine there could ever be a world without her parents in it.
How could she make this better for them? Aside from being a good daughter and not making trouble, there was nothing she could do. And she certainly couldn’t tell them about her and Saks.
“So, Chrissy,” her father said, jolting her from her thoughts, “tell me about this job of yours.”