“Dad, you have to take care of yourself now,” I said, looking at my mother, who I knew would be the one to do all the care-taking, especially for his diet. Oh yes, she’d nag him to death. She was nodding.
“I know, Sugar. But let’s hear about that vacation I had to cut short. Where’s Greg?” he asked. Stupidly, I’d forgotten to come up with an excuse for Greg’s absence or to decide when I’d tell my parents about my impending divorce.
My mom’s sister, Lucy, looked at me funny. She always seemed to know things— like when she’d guessed the birthday of her best friend’s grandchild, or when she’d won our town’s carnival lottery by guessing the four numbers. I considered lying and saying that Greg had to rush back home for business, but then I asked myself— why? Yes, we had bigger things to think about, like my dad’s condition, but then my problem would seem trivial, right? But I didn’t want to cause a commotion at that moment.
“He went home,” I said. “We’re sort of in a big fight, and he went home before Daddy had the heart attack so he doesn’t even know. Whatever. It’s not important right now.” I hoped I’d watered it down enough for now, but my mom came over to give me a hug.
“We’ll talk about it later then,” she said. Greg and I were well-known for our huge fights back while we were dating, but we always made up. My mom probably thought this was a recurrence. My Tia Lucy, however, was still giving me that strange expression. My dad said nothing. He was the strong, silent type, but when he had something to say, people listened. That’s how he’d successfully built up the business my grandfather started in Harper Fields 50 years ago. From a small store selling a few tools and soil, it grew to a large hardware store with another location just outside of town.
Sitting with my mom and aunt by my dad, I listened to the town news for an hour until my stomach grumbled. I realized I had eaten nothing since that restaurant/club last night, and I was starving.
“I’m hungry,” my aunt said standing up. “Why don’t we get something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry right now, but go ahead,” my mom said. I stood up with my aunt.
“Mom, can I bring you a sandwich for later or something? Maybe they have yogurt?” I asked. My mom had yogurt every morning.
“No, no, I’ll eat later,” she said, shooing us away. I gave my dad a kiss on the cheek and promised to be back soon.
We walked to the cafeteria, my aunt discussing how she’d have to go home soon since her boys couldn’t be trusted alone with their father too long. My cousins were 9-year-old identical twin boys, and from the stories my mom told me whenever she sees them, they’re little devils.
“How are they doing?” I asked.
“They’re driving me crazy. I try to put them in every sport imaginable to get the energy out of them, but I’m beginning to think that it does the opposite,” she said with a sigh.
We grabbed an actually decent-looking meal and sat at a cafeteria table, surrounded by other worried family members and nurses.
“Do you want to tell me what happened with Greg?” she asked out of nowhere as I was trying to eat my bland mashed potatoes. Looks were deceiving with hospital food, apparently.
“We had a fight, Tia. That’s all,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t pry. But a Cuban family is a Cuban family.
“You and Greg have a fight so big that he hops on an airplane to go home, and now I see you here with a face full of exhaustion and tons of eye makeup. Why so much makeup if your husband is gone?” she asked, then set to devouring her plate.
I gave up. She’d guess it soon enough anyway, I was sure of it— down to the last detail. So I told her all of it. Well, almost all of it. I left out the part where I’d been sharing a room with a tall, handsome man that wasn’t my husband for the past three nights.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. And so angry at that Greg,” she said, but now that I think of it, my aunt had been rather cool to him our entire courtship, which was not like her.
“But,” she continued, “That doesn’t explain your smudged eye makeup.” Luckily, or unluckily if you consider who it was, my phone rang and Greg’s name displayed on the screen. My aunt and I both looked at it.
“Do not run from your problems,” she said. “Not all things get smaller the farther you get.” I rolled my eyes at her and picked up.
“Yes, Greg?” I said, annoyed.
“Hey, how are you? My mom told me about your dad. Are you going to visit him?” he asked. His voice was like a bucket of ice water over my head after not having heard it for a few days.
“I’m at the hospital with him now. How did you find out?” I questioned.
“My mom told me. It’s Harper’s Field, Audrey,” he said. It was the running joke of the town, a place so small that everyone knew everything about everyone’s business. So if someone asked how you knew something, you said, “It’s Harper’s Field.” It wasn’t so amusing now. I gave him a quick update on my dad.
“So, thank you for calling. Goodbye,” I said, and hung up, not giving him a chance to reply.
My aunt sipped from her straw while giving me another funny look.
“Let’s go back,” I said, getting up before she went on and on again about eye makeup. She’d crack me eventually, I knew, as she’d done when I was 12 and had my first kiss. As she’d also done when I had snuck out to go to a concert in the next town after my parents had forbidden me to go. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t told them to this date. My aunt was ten years younger than my mom so she understood my teenage angst better than my mom did. And boy was I full of angst back in those days.
I convinced my mother to eat something a couple of hours later, and by the time it was dark out, my father insisted that she go home to sleep.
“Why are you going to sleep next to me uncomfortable on the fold-out thing? Just sleep nice and cozy at home, and then tomorrow morning you can come back. Besides, I should be going home tomorrow, and I need you to bring me new clothes. Go,” he said in his pretend-stern voice.
