The second time, Luca says, “I’ve got her,” before I can answer.
He says it like there was never any question. Like taking care of me is already his place.
Anna looks from him to me and then settles a little deeper into the pillows with a soft sigh.
“Good,” she murmurs.
Her eyelids are drooping now. The thread is fraying.
“Natalia,” she says, and there’s a different quality to her voice. Thinner. “When did you get here?”
“A little while ago. We’ve been visiting.”
She looks at Luca, and I can see the uncertainty move back in. “And who is this?”
“This is Luca. My… boyfriend.”
“Oh!” She frowns. Then she looks at Luca again and her face relaxes. “Well. He’s very handsome.”
“You mentioned that.” I smile through the crack forming in my chest.
“Did I?” She laughs, and it’s the same warm laugh from my childhood, and it nearly wrecks me. “I’m sorry. I’m a little fuzzy today.”
“You’re sharp enough for me,” Luca says. “And your piroshki recipe sounds incredible.”
Anna beams at him.
A nurse appears in the doorway, knocking lightly. “I’m sorry, visiting hours are wrapping up. She should get some rest.”
I stand and lean down to press my lips to Anna’s forehead. Her skin is warm and papery and smells like hospital soap and, underneath it, like her. Like home.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper. “I promise.”
She scans my face with a smile. Then confusion drifts across hers again, merciful and cruel all at once.
“All right,” she says softly. “Tell your mother I said hello.”
“Okay,” I say on a thick swallow. “I will.”
Luca says goodbye. Anna holds his hand an extra beat and says something to him I don’t catch. Whatever it is, it makes his throat bob and his eyes go bright before he blinks it away.
The next hour passes in a blur of forms and case managers and rehab options. There’s a discussion about facilities equipped to handle both the orthopedic recovery and the dementia. There are signatures. Phone numbers. A promise that if Anna stays stable overnight, the transfer will likely happen tomorrow. Bythe time we’re done, everything that can be arranged has been arranged.
When we finally step outside and head to the car, the sun has dropped lower, turning the whole sky the bruised pink and gold of a desert evening.
I sink into the passenger seat and let my head fall back.
“You okay?” Luca asks once he starts the engine.
“No,” I say honestly. Then I let out a breath. “But also yes.”
Everything inside me is wrung out. She’s okay. The surgery worked. Rehab starts tomorrow.
Today she knew me. Today, that has to be enough.
“What now?” I ask.
His expression softens. “Now, you’ve had a long day and you’re exhausted. I got us a room for tonight. The plane will be ready whenever you are.”
