Ache For You

12

When I burst through the door, the first thing I see is Dominic slumped in a chair beside my father’s bed. His head is bent. His lips move silently in prayer as he fingers the rosary in his hands. He looks up, catches sight of me, and leaps to his feet with open arms.

“Tesoro!”

I haven’t seen him in five years, but his craggy face is as familiar to me as my own. His hair is completely white now, and his shoulders are rounded, but even in his mideighties, he retains his joyous energy.

I drop all my luggage inside the door, then run to Dominic and hug him as he kisses my hair. “God, it’s good to see you,” I whisper, squeezing him tight. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

In heavily accented English, Dominic says, “Eh, you’re lying to an old man. But I forgive you. It’s so good to see you, too. If only it were under happier circumstances.”

When we break apart, we smile at each other for a moment. Then I turn my gaze to my father, lying motionless in the bed. He’s thin, almost as white as the bedsheets that cover him, and hooked up to too many machines to count.

Tears springing to my eyes, I cover my mouth with my hand and grip Dominic’s arm for support. “My God, he looks dead already!”

Dominic says quietly, “I think he’s only been holding on for you to arrive.”

I start to shake. The acid sting of bile rises in the back of my throat, and I have to swallow before I can speak. “There’s nothing the doctors can do?”

Dominic’s bright eyes are filled with sadness. “I’m so sorry, tesoro. His heart was irreparably damaged. The doctors are surprised he’s made it this long. He could go at any moment.”

A small cry of horror passes my lips. My legs shaking, I move to the side of the bed and take my father’s cold, limp hand in mine. I whisper hoarsely, “Dad? Papa, can you hear me?”

My only answer is the heart monitor’s faint, erratic beep.

Dominic drags a chair to me and motions for me to sit. I’m thankful because I’m not sure how much longer I can stand. I sink into the chair and fight the tears that threaten to crest my lower lids. I dash them away, determined to be brave.

Now isn’t the time to cry. Not while his heart is still beating. There will be plenty of time for tears later.

Dominic rests his hand on my shoulder. He says softly, “Have you eaten?”

I shake my head, my gaze never leaving my father’s face.

“I’ll get you something.” He tiptoes out of the room. In a while, he returns with a cold sandwich and coffee from a vending machine.

I unwrap the plastic around the sandwich, but the smell of meat turns my stomach. I place it on the little table beside me and tell Dominic I’ll eat it later. I try the coffee, but can only get a sip past my lips.

Then we sit in silence, listening to the machines whirr and chirp, until he clears his throat. “Kimber, there’s something you should know.”

I glance at him sharply, worried by this new tone in his voice that portends more bad news. “What is it?”

“Your father . . .” He looks guilty, as if he’s about to disclose a terrible secret.

My worry zooms closer to panic. I sit up straighter in my chair. “My father what?”

Dominic takes a breath, then meets my eyes. “He recently remarried.”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I stare at him in cold shock, all my limbs frozen. Finally, I find my tongue and say accusingly, “He would’ve told me.”

Dominic shakes his head. “He didn’t want to take any attention away from your wedding. He knew how excited you were, how long you’d waited, how busy you were with all the plans. He thought it would be better until after you returned from your honeymoon to tell you.”

I’m horrified by that. “My God, am I that self-centered? My own father feels like he can’t share his good news with me because I’ll throw a tantrum?”

“No, tesoro,” says Dominic gently. “It’s not like that at all. You know better.”

He’s right. I do. My father thinks the sun shines out of my ass. I’m his pride and joy. He brags to anyone who’ll listen about his daughter in America: what a success I am, what a genius with a needle, what a head for business.

All vast exaggerations, but he’s always been my biggest champion. Even though the love of his life died giving birth to me, he’s always made me feel like the world’s most precious jewel.

“So I have a . . . stepmother.” I try the word out hesitantly. It’s got a lot of baggage, that word. I lift my head and stare at Dominic. “Where is she? Why isn’t she here?”

Dominic’s expression turns pained. “She’s at the house with the girls.”

I’m startled. “Girls? What girls?”

Dominic clears his throat again, like he does when he’s nervous. He fidgets in his seat. “Cornelia and Beans.”

Boom! goes that second bomb he just dropped in my lap. It’s even more shocking than the stepmother one. I’ve always wanted a sister—and now I have two? And one of them is named Beans?

I try to think of anything to say, but can’t. In the space of seconds, I’ve gained three new family members. I close my eyes, rub my temples, and draw a long breath, gathering my thoughts.

“Okay. This is good. This is weird, but it’s good.” I look at Dominic. “You know what? I’m really happy about this. He’s been alone too long. It’s great that he finally found someone. I just wish I would’ve known sooner. I would’ve come out for the wedding—”