An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Sixty-Six

Her head still groggy, Christine once again opened her eyes in a hospital bed. Her vision soon adjusted to her children seated on chairs near her bed. Both looked like they needed sleep and their eyes were red and sore from crying. They looked gaunt and weary and Christine was about to tell them to have something to eat when she realized their new reality: Daniel was gone.

She sank her head back into the pillow and put her arm over her head.

"Mom, are you up? Are you OK?"

She nodded. As shattered as she was, she had to think of her kids.

"How long have I slept?" she asked.

"Nearly fourteen hours," Trudy replied.

Christine lifted her arm and reluctantly faced them. "And have you two been sitting here the whole time?"

"No," said Trudy. "We went home but couldn't sleep so we stayed up all night talking. . .and crying."

Christine nodded. "I understand. How are Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Seth holding up?"

"Uncle Seth drove them home after the doctor gave Grandma and Grandpa heavy tranquilizers. Uncle Seth mentioned that Jewish people bury relatives right away, so he said he's going to call their rabbi about funeral arrangements."

"Well, I'm going to help him," Christine answered in a determined voice. I may not understand all the Jewish burial rituals, but he was my husband."

"Relax, Mom," Tim said. "He just said he needed to get the ball rolling. He's going to consult you on all the major decisions about the burial."

A wave of nausea descended on Christine. Funeral arrangements weren't the only thing she had to take care of. There were hospital bills, insurance, funeral costs,. . ."

Would Ryan help?

No! She didn't want to accept his charity. He had played no part in their lives until now.

Would he offer? Would he now want to be a part of their lives?

I bet he'll just return to his luxurious lifestyle, filled with women, parties, and travel. He'll soon forget all about us, she thought with bitterness.

As if reading her thoughts, Tim said, "Ryan Monti is in Boston, Mom."

The news jolted her. She didn't dare face her children when she said, "I supposed he has business here."

"Mom, he knows Dad died. He's here to help."

Tim's words made her feel awash in relief, but she eschewed those feelings of being rescued.

I will not accept his charity except for the children's' needs. I'll take care of myself, she vowed.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

Dr. Sherman came in, looking drained and solemn. He took Christine's hand, "I am so sorry."

She clasped his. "You did everything you could and we're grateful.

"He fought a valiant battle. He had the worst form and he lasted longer than we anticipated," the doctor whispered. He bowed his head. ("The hospital needs the bed, but I'm looking for another room for you. ")

Christine shook her head. "No, thank you. We're ready to go home."

"Take your time, please," Dr. Sherman put a hand on her shoulder. He turned to the twins, "How are the two of you holding up?"

"Fine," Trudy said in a meek, little-girl voice.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked them.

Solemn-faced and cloudy-eyed, Tim shook his head.

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do. I'm sure you already know this, but your father was a good man. They don't come much better than him."

Trudy attempted to smile but gave up. She nodded her head in acknowledgement.

Dr. Sherman didn't know what to do with his hands and looked around, starting to speak but not knowing what to say.

"We'll be all right," Christine sat up and reached out to the doctor. "I'll let you know when we're having the funeral."

"Please do. And the shiva information," he stared at Christine. She nodded and then he approached the twins, shaking Tim's and Trudy's hands. "All of you take care. Look after your mother."

"Will do," Tim said, nodding and staring down.

When the doctor left, Christine moved her stiff limbs out of bed. More than anything, she wanted to stay lying under the covers and fall back asleep into oblivion. But she swung her legs out of the bed and her children rushed over to help her stand up. Christine felt like a frail old woman but she accepted their help.

She dreaded looking in the bathroom mirror, afraid of what she was going to see. Her hair was tangled and matted, her eyes were red, and her face was pale and drawn.

I've got to put on some make-up or I'm going to scare people.

Christine, she immediately chided herself, Daniel just died. Is this a time to worry how you look?

Better that than dwell on losing Daniel, she answered herself.

She splashed water on her face and attempted to push down her blond hair but gave up. It was a losing proposition.

As she left the bathroom and joined Tim and Trudy, Christine recalled Jewish rituals of mourning she had witnessed. Covering mirrors, sitting on a low seat, shiva, friends and family visiting and bringing over food.

"You OK, Mom?" Tim asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Yes. I'm better. You don't have to help me," she told her kids when each one was reaching over to steady her.

She glanced up at her children. Both looked beside themselves.

What were they going to do?

Trudy drove the car on the way home. Christine marveled at her daughter's ability to cope. Tim, on the other hand, struggled not to break down again. Christine sat in the back seat and kept telling herself she had to take one second at a time. Literally, only one second. Heather had called and invited them to stay overnight at her house. Seth was sleeping at his parents. When they declined, Heather even offered to sleep at their house with her kids. Everyone couldn't help chuckling at that offer.

There was a contemplative silence on the ride home—everyone was introspective in their own thoughts.

Before they opened the front door, Tim reached for the mail. Upon entering the house, he shoved a letter at Trudy and both ripped open letters embossed with Boston College's golden label. They both stared at each other open-mouthed. They exchanged letters. Trudy let out a little laugh and then cried.

"Wh-what is it?" Christine asked.

"We both got into BC," a stony-faced Tim told her.

He turned around so his mother and sister couldn't see his expression.