Home Again
Lina started to get up.
“Sit there,” Mom commanded as she walked over to the antique armoire in the corner of her office. Easing the ornate doors open, she rummaged through the clothing and pulled out an ice-blue angora sweater. Turning back to the desk, she smiled. “This was supposed to be a Christmas present.”
Lina stared at the soft sweater and felt ashamed. She knew that come Christmas, she would have glanced at something this feminine and tossed it away, thinking that her mom was a hopeless nerd. She turned her gaze to her mother. “It’s way cool, Mom. Thanks.”
Mom laughed. “Just what you would have said on Christmas morning.”
Smiling, Lina pulled the Coors beer T-shirt over her head and threw it in the corner, then slid into the incredibly soft sweater. When her mother led her back to the mirror, Lina couldn’t believe the change.
This time a beautiful young woman stared back at her. The sweater made her eyes look impossibly blue. For once, instead of looking ghostly white, she looked pale and sort of fragile, like those girls in the Calvin Klein ads. Impulsively she twirled around and threw her arms around her mom, holding her close.
Then she realized what she’d done and she drew back, embarrassed.
Mom smiled. “You need to know that he’s very sick, your father. He’s just had heart surgery and he’s got to take it easy. He’ll be discharged in about an hour, but he’s still going to be moving slowly. I’ve made arrangements—if things go well—to help him find a house today. All three of us.”
“Sorta like a family,” Lina said, surprised by the wistfulness in her voice.
Mom looked startled, then a little sad. “More like new friends.”
Lina nodded. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her should
ers and tilted her chin up. “I’m ready, Mom.”
“Good. He’s in room 264-W.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
Mom shook her head. “I think you guys need some time alone.”
Lina tamped down the flash of fear that came at her then. She thought about how pretty she looked, how the pale blue sweater made her eyes look as blue as Francis’s, how her black hair looked sophisticated instead of ragged.
I’ll make him love me. The vow came back to her and she grabbed hold of it, held it to her chest, and prayed she could make it come true. She looked up at her mom, and wanted to say something, but nothing seemed good enough. She could see the fear in her mother’s eyes, and she knew that the fear was for both of them.
She gave her mom a quick smile and headed off. She hurried down the long hallway, past the nurses’ station, past the family waiting room.
By the time she reached his room, her heart was beating wildly and there was a fine sheen of sweat on her palms.
She peered through the observation window and saw a man standing at the window on the opposite wall, his back to her. He was wearing a denim shirt and Levi’s, and his hair was long and dark brown. A good sign, she thought—long hair.
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. At his muffled “Come in,” she pushed the door open and went inside.
“Hello, Lina,” he said in a smooth, even voice that sent a shiver of recognition down her spine. It was a voice she knew but couldn’t place.
She waited nervously for him to turn around.
Slowly he turned. Her breath caught as she recognized him. Her knees went weak. She would have reached out for something to hold onto, but there was nothing nearby.
It was Angel DeMarco.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, feeling disconnected and confused.
He flashed her the megawatt grin she’d seen a million times on-screen. “I see your mom didn’t tell you who I was.”
She tried to say no. The word came out as a high-pitched squeak.
“Come on over here.”
She moved like an automaton, her mind whirling with thoughts. Her father was Angel DeMarco. Her father was Angel DeMarco. Her father was Angel DeMarco. The kids weren’t going to believe this. Brittany Levin was going to shit.