I drove home in tears. I refused to believe that Luxie was dy-dying. But she certainly wasn't getting any better. Everynight, when Harry came home, he grew angrier and angrier at the littlest things.
"They don't serve jell-o in the cafeteria. Goddamn. It's jell-o. Nobody dies from eating jell-o," he complained, kicking his boots off. I hugged him carefully.
"They'll come around," I mumbled, unsure what else to say.
Harry kissed my cheek lightly and slumped down on the couch. I helped him take his heavy jacket off.
The kids were in their own worlds. Darcy was plotting a way to get back at Brock. J.D and Candy couldn't stop making out "quietly" in J.D.'s room. Des was spying on J.D., trying to show Candy embarrassing photos of J.D. in diapers (but he looked so cute in diapers). And little Farah was multi-tasking: coloring in her room and singing 90s Britney Spears hits.
"And they're cutting visiting hours. Who cuts visiting hours?" Harry demanded. I handed him a cup of tea.
"Heartless people," I nodded.
"Yes, heartless scumbags," he agreed.
I rubbed his shoulders, trying to squeeze the tension out, but it only made him stiffer.
"She'll be ok," I whispered so quietly, I barely heard myself. Harry looked up at me.
"You promise, Angie?"
I swallowed back a tear.
"Yes."
***
Gemma kept calling and txting me, but I continued to ignore her. I really had no interest in hearing what she had to say, but part of me knew that what she and Vince had said wasn't the full story. Gemma had more to tell me, but right now, I was more worried about Luxie and Danny.
I decided to drive to the hospital before work. I needed to see Luxie for myself. Maybe Sam was just depressed and was letting her emotions weigh down reality.
The hospital was busy. As usual. I waved to Connie, the woman who used to supervise Harry when he did his service work at the hospital. Her desk was filled with candies and roses. My heart sunk in my chest. Is she retiring?
"Connie?"
Connie looked up at me and gasped.
"Angela! It's so good to see you, honey. How are the babies?"
"Babies" I shook my head. "They're taller than me."
Connie held her wrinkley, grandmotherly hands to her chest.
"My my my, how the sunsets faster than we can blink," she shook her head. Her hair was paper-white and curled like marshmellows.
"If only we could stop blinking," I whispered.
Connie laughed.
"Honey, I've been trying to do that since 1969," she winked.
I laughed nervously.
"Your Nonna had fond memories of those years," she nodded. Connie knew Nonna briefly, but only because of me. I introduced them since-- to be honest-- they were the oldest women I knew and I figured they could talk about the olden days.
I glanced at Connie's desk.
"So you either have dozens of admirers or you're--"
"Retiring," she nodded plainly. I took a step closer to her.
"But the hospital is your home," I shook my head. Connie took my hand.
"I know, dear, but I'm too old for the job. I can't keep up," she shrugged her shoulders.
I took a deep breath. This was one of those things that you couldn't stop: time. And yet, we all waste every second trying to get back to a moment where we felt good. Where things were good. But when we do that, we miss something else.
"I remember when I first saw you and you asked for Harold," she recalled, smiling.
I looked down shyly.
"You were all shaken up and your eyes were so innocently rounded with fear, yet determination to see this young man," she continued, lowering her voice as though it was a private memory.
I smoothed my hair behind my ear.
"Now you're the mother of his five children," she sighed proudly. She took my hands in hers.
"I have four children," I corrected her quietly.
"That's what I said, five," she winked, patting my belly.
I stared at her.
"Your Nonna was a smart woman," she nodded. Then she walked back to her desk, resuming packing up.
I half ran to Luxie's room, trying to ignore Connie's last comment. I pressed my hand to my stomach momentarily, though. Harry hasn't touched me in a few weeks. There's no way that I'm pregnant. I got my period for this month, right?...
Luxie was half asleep on her bed. Her wrists were tied with bands and tubes that curved around her thinning body like vines.
"Luxie," I whispered delicately.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Angie," she gasped. She barely had enough breath to say my meager name.
I knelt down beside her, fluffing her pillow and kissing her cheek. Her once lustrous blonde hair was thinning out. I swallowed hard. She was much too young to be losing herself. Much too young.
"Your medicine is helping you, Luxie. It will cure you," I told her confidently.
Lux laughed lightly. There was a light rasp in her voice.
"You're one of those believers" she shook her head. I took her hand in mine.
"I've always been a believer," I insisted calmly.
"I prefer harsh reality."
I stared at her.
"Luxie, you will get better and you will marry Ross and you will have beautiful children and you will be a successful lawyer."
Lux sighed.
"Then why am I dying?"
I stared at her eyes. There was a tear that had become permanent, like a drop of water under a microscope; you could stare at it for hours, but it won't go away. It won't go away.
"Lux needs to take her medicine now," a voice interrupted. I turned to see a nurse,
"Ok" I mumbled. I kissed Lux's cheek and left slowly. I stood by the door and Dr. Blair smiled weakly at me.
"How are you Angela?"
"She's going to make it, right?" I asked bluntly.
Dr. Blair's smile disappeared.
"She's going to do whatever God wills her to do," he answered as vaguely as a politician.
"You're a believer?" I whispered, looking more closely into his eyes. I always thought that doctors and scientists were more fact-based than faith-based. But I guess I was wrong.
"Everyone's a believer, but some people lose their way."
***
I cried in the car again. I sat for a minute, with a tissue stuck to my eye. Then I realized I was late for work and I sucked up every emotion that was trying to ooze out of me and headed to my class. They were all waiting patiently, whispering to one another, hoping for a substitute.
The school day ended and I headed into Lorenzo's. As terrible as it may sound, I didn't want to think about Luxie. I also wanted to see Sephora and Marco. Gemma was so damn lucky to have such a beautiful, loving family, but she was throwing it all away. And yet Luxie, Luxie might--might never get a chance to have a family. I stared up at the sky for a moment. Sometimes, I worst things happen to the best people. And the best people lose their way.
I still didn't want to deal with Gemma. I kne she wouldn't be at the restaurant because she never came down to the restaurant. She had wanted to sell it the moment she and Danny got married, except Danny wouldn't allow it. The restaurant was the only thing we had left --physically- of our dad. And not even Gemma could change that for Danny.
"Hi Auntie Angie," Sephora greeted me. I hugged her tightly, as if trying to apologize for her mother's actions.
"You're such a good girl, Sephora. Always be a good girl," I nodded hurriedly.
Sephora stared at me with her tear-shaped hazel eyes. There wasn't a trace of black liner or eyeshadow or mascara of any sorts. And because her eyes had no additives, they bore an uncanny resemblance to my dad's eyes. She had my dad's eyes.
"Aunt Angie, are you ok? Would you like some water? Or medicine?" she offered, pointing at the kitchen. Danny was behind those double doors, surveying the cooks to make sure they were doing their parts.
"No, no I'm fine, honey," I shook my head quickly. Sephora led me to a table and watched my face carefully. I smiled too brightly to seem casual.
"How do you like working here at your granddad's restaurant?" I asked randomly.
Sephora wiped her hands on the towel strewn over her shoulder.
"Well it's helping me pay for my car, so I guess it's alright," she shrugged her shoulders.
I laughed. Sephora stared at me.
"Cars. Cars. Is that all you kids think about?" I shook my head teasingly. I used to work at Lorenzo's when I was around Sephora's age, in order to get a car, too...
Sephora looked down at the table and cleaned a dark stain with her towel.
"I think about sports and school, too," she reasoned.
"And boys?"
Sephora's cheeks grew slightly pink. "Not really," she mumbled.
I laughed nervously.
"The only boys that ever talk to me are ones on my soccer team," she mumbled. "I don't even think they realize I'm a girl."
"Sephora, you're very beautiful. Beautiful like your m-mother" I cleared my throat. "There's absolutely no reason for you to feel inadequate in any way," I told her confidently. She nodded feably.
"Dessy is the only boy that actually listens to me," she nodded.
"Dessy is a great listener," I smiled proudly.
"But even he doesn't see me as a girl. I'm just another guy on the team. The only difference is that my legs are shaved and I have boobs," Sephora shrugged her shoulders. "Barely," she mumbled, looking down at her still-blossoming chest.
"Well they willl notice you as a woman one day soon. And even though your m-mother would like you to put make-up on and wear frilly dresses, you don't need any of that stuff. You just need to be honest and faithful. Always be faithful," I told her, taking her hand in mine.
Sephora stared at me the way I used to stare at Nonna when her predictions came true. She looked down at my ring and pressed her finger against it as though it was an unknown, but fascinating species.
"I know about my mom."
I held my breath.
"Hey! Auntie Angie, what's up?" Marco shouted gleefully. He plopped his tray of food down and ran to me, pulling me in a warm hug. I kissed his cheeks, but his spiked hair poked my cheek.
I smiled at him so widely that I nearly cried. Marco looked like a baby Danny-- except he had blue eyes. Curved, coral eyes. And if I wasn't mistaken, his eyes were rimmed with eyeliner.
"Sorry, I'm trying this new hair gel and it makes my hair stiff as concrete," he explained. I looked up at him and sure enough, his hair was sculpted like a parrot with black feathers. And just above his ears, there were silver piercings.
Marco laughed. I looked at his lips. There was a hole by his lower lip.
"What's with all the piercings, Marco?" I asked sternly. I didn't want to come back the next day and find him completely covered in tattoos and body piercings.
"Lookie here, it's Johnny Darko," Sephora teased him. Marco rolled his eyes. Yes, he definitely was wearing eyeliner.
"Marco?" I raised a brow.
"I'm expressing myself. You can find an explanation in chapter 4 of those parenting books," he grinned casaully. I couldn't help but smile.
Sephora looked down at my ring again. I swallowed hard. She knew about her mother, but Marco seemed oblivious. Either that or he was hiding his anger and confusion by "expressing himself."
"Well I gotta go serve some tables. It was nice seeing you, Auntie Angie," Marco smiled. He kissed my cheek and started re-balancing his tray on his arm again.
"By the way, what kind of eyeliner do you use?" he asked.
"N.Y.C."
He nodded and headed out to the customers.
"I have to go, too," Sephora mumbled.
"Wait," I gasped, taking her wrist in mine.
"I'm not going to tell my dad. And my mom doesn't know that I know," Sephora whispered. "I wish I didn't know," she admitted. My heart sunk in my chest.
"Your parents will get through this, I promise," I whispered, but I knew it was a lie. If Gemma started her relationship with Danny by coming and going, running away, and leaving him stranded at the most random times, then they sure as hell had no hope of continuing their marriage.