My Sister's Keeper (23 page)

“
I’m sorry.”

“
No, really, I was dreaming about you anyway, but this is better.”

She laughed quietly, then whispered. “I’ve been worried about you all day and was wondering how things went on the river.”

“
Why are you whispering?” I asked. She did not respond. “Sydney?”

“
I’m sitting in a closet with the door closed.”

“
Why? What’s wrong?”

“
He’s here.”

“
Who’s there?”

“
The guy…I’ve been living with.”

I dropped my head and whispered. “The guy you’ve been
living with?”

“
It’s a long story, but it’s over. He’s packing his things.”

“
So, the guy you’ve been
living with
is moving out?”

“
Yes.”

I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I wasn’t. “When was this decided?”

“
Today.” Silence. “I wanted it over a long time ago. I just didn’t have a good enough reason to go through with it. Until now.”

“
And what’s your reason now?”

She hesitated. “It’s just time. I called to see if you found out anything new today.”

“
I surely did. Some positive and some negative.”

“
Tell me.”

I leaned back against the headboard and rattled off the highlights of the day in about fifteen minutes ending with my father lying in Cardiac Care. Sydney got excited about Darla and the boat people, offered sincere condolences about my father, and said nothing at all when I told her about the Jacksons and the DNA. She remained silent.

“
Sydney?”

“
Yes?”

“
Are you okay?”

“
I

” She didn’t finish.

“
What?”

“
Why would anyone kill the Jacksons?”

“
Could be the people she stole the money from trying to find her just like we were.”

“
But, how would they have known about the Jacksons?”

“
I don’t know. Is it that big of a secret?”

She exhaled softly. “I guess not.”

“
So how was
your
day?”

“
Long. Very long. I was up at daybreak.”

“
Doing what?”

“
Thinking.”

“
And what were you thinking?”

“
For one thing, I wondered if you noticed how beautiful the sun looked coming up this morning.”

I smiled. “Actually, I did. What else were you thinking?”

“
Well…nothing in particular.”

“
Oh, yes you were. Tell me or I’m going to hang up.”

“
No you won’t.”

“
Well, tell me anyway.”

“
I was thinking about you, actually.”

“
Sydney Deagan, don’t you tease me like that.”

I could hear her smiling. “Well, that’s part of what I was thinking about,” she whispered. “But…I know you must be exhausted, so I’d better let you go.”

“
Are you kidding? I’m wide awake now.”

There was another pause then she asked, “Well, how are your cuts today?”

“
I think some of them are infected and gangrene might be setting in. Could you rush over and look at them?”

She giggled and it felt like someone had just strummed my heartstrings. I couldn’t help myself.
I was in love with the sound of that laughter.

“
I think we’d better say goodnight,” she chuckled. “Before we—”

I heard the phone banging around. “Hello? Sydney?”

Then came a man’s voice at the other end. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

I heard Sydney reply. “I’m just…sitting here.”

“
Doing what?”

“
Talking to my girlfriend. Do you mind?” A door slammed, the phone rattled, and she whispered, “I better go.”

“
Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“
I’ll be fine.”

“
Maybe you need to stay somewhere else tonight.”

She sighed. “I don’t have anyplace to go.”

“
You sure as hell do. You can come over here.”

“
I’ll be fine.”

I was trembling. I closed my eyes, leaned back, and sighed. “Where do you live? What’s your address?”

“
I’ll be fine.” Then her voice dropped and she whispered, “I’ve got to go.”

The phone banged against something, then rattled around as if someone was trying to hang it up.

“
Sydney?” I whispered.

I heard movement in the background, a TV far off in the distance, white noise. Silence. A commode flushed, followed by the sound of a man’s footsteps approaching rapidly and a loud slap before the line clicked off.

“
Sydney?”

Damn it!

31

F
RANTICALLY, I CHECKED CALLER ID—
Unknown Number—
and the phone directory, but found no listing under Sydney’s name.
Son-of-a-bitch!
I jumped in the car and sped to her studio hoping to find some kind of emergency number listed on the front door, but there was nothing. Back at home I lay awake the rest of the night waiting for the phone to ring again. It didn’t.

I fixed a pot of coffee and sat at the breakfast table watching the sun come up wondering if Sydney might be watching it as well, wondering what kind of night she’d had.

I took a shower, dressed, remembered the shattered cassette Martha wanted, dug it out of the trash, and gave it to her when I picked her up. We arrived back at the hospital just before 8 a.m., and I noticed Winston sitting in the waiting room on Dad’s floor. His hat was tipped down over his face covering his scars. I supposed he was there to support Mom.

“
You think he’s being a little pushy?” I asked Martha wheeling her down the hall.

“
Maybe he just wants to be close by in case something happens and she needs him.”

“
Nice guy.”

Dad was still in Cardiac Care, but was now awake. Mom sat beside him holding his hand and although she looked tired, she looked relieved. When she saw us, she came out to tell us the latest news. It was not good.

“
He’s had a lot of trouble breathing today and his legs are swelling which they think is because he doesn’t have enough circulation in his legs to remove the excess fluid.”

“
Can’t they do anything?”

“
They put him on oxygen and they gave him something to help with the swelling, but they said it would probably get worse.”

I stood at the glass and watched Dad’s chest rise and sink. I wanted to feel what normal people feel when they know they are losing their father, but I felt nothing. It was as if I was looking at someone else’s father. Not mine. I’d never had a real father. For me there was nothing to lose. Nothing to miss. There was no love between us and there never had been. And that’s what hurt the most.
Why couldn’t he love me? What more could I have done?

A tear strayed down my cheek. Mom saw it, threw her arms around me, and held me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was crying for
myself,
not him.

We tried to talk Mom into going home and getting some rest, but she wouldn’t hear of it. We did talk her into joining us for breakfast at the hospital café. Afterward, I had the chance to spend a few minutes alone with Dad.

The room smelled of alcohol and gauze. The bed was high. The chair was low. The florescent light cold. A tower of electronic equipment next to the head of the bed beeped steadily. All so very uncomfortable and antiseptic. Then he spoke and I realized how well it fit him.

“
You got that shit straightened out yet, boy?”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and fought off the temptation to snap back. “Not yet, Dad.”

“
Ain’t nobody ever disgraced the Baimbridge name like you done.”

Here we go again!
I looked away—out the window, down the hall to the waiting room. Mom and Winston. He had his hat off and I could see the burn scars from where I stood. He was holding Mom’s hand. She was crying.

“
Dad?”

“
What?” he grunted after a long pause.

I looked at his face. There was a clear tube now wrapped around his ears with a pair of nozzles in his nose. His hair hung in matted clumps around his head. I sighed. “Why is it so hard for you to believe me?”

He pressed a fist against his chest and grimaced. The beeps on the monitor sped up for a few beats, then settled back down.

I hung my head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“
I believe what I see, boy. Was that you lying in the street? Was that you I seen on TV?” I didn’t answer. “If you didn’t do it, what are you doing about it? Huh?” The beeps on the monitor sped up.

“
I’ve found someone who saw this woman that everyone thinks I killed. I gave her name to my attorney. So, I suppose it’s just a matter of time now before it all gets cleared up.”

“
You make damned sure it does. You hear me? Your mother deserves to hold her head high and be respected.”

“
It will be.”

There was a long silence. He closed his eyes and rocked his head back and forth as if he was carrying on a conversation in his mind. I stepped closer. “Dad?”

“
What?” he grunted.

My voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry I was never able to be the son you wanted.” His head turned toward me and his eyes opened, and for the first time in a long time I felt he was actually looking
at
me. As our eyes met, I realized how old and feeble he’d become since I last looked closely at him. “I want you to know that I truly am sorry that I was never able to make you proud, Dad. I swear I tried. Honestly, I did. I guess I just never had the right interests or did the right things or—”

He reached up, grabbed my arm, and pulled me toward him. His eyes bore into mine and his whiskered chin dropped open as he gasped for air. “I’m dying, Rich. My life is over. Ain’t no changing what’s done now.”

His big body looked small, deflated. I stroked the back of the hand that clutched me. “Yeah, I suppose not.”

“
I wanted a son. More than anything, Rich. I swear to you, more than life itself even. A
real
son. My own flesh and blood. You just have no idea how important it was for me to have a son.” His face turned purple and tears pooled in his eyes.

“
I’m sorry, Dad. Really, I am. Really…I am.”

He reached up with his other hand, grabbed my sleeve, and pulled on me with both hands lifting himself off the bed. He gasped between his words and the beeping on the monitor accelerated like a rollercoaster coming down the first drop. “When you were born,” he said, pulling hard at my arm, his eyes jumping back and forth between mine. “You were
perfect
…and I
tried
so hard to love you. God knows I
tried
.” He shook and the tears spilled down his face. “You were everything I’d ever wanted, Rich.” He strangled on his own tongue. The rate of the beeping increased even further, like a drum roll. I pulled back, but he held tight.

“
Dad, please. I didn’t mean to start anything. We can do this later. You need to lie back down.”

He collapsed against the bed, but pulled on my arm keeping me off-balance and bent over him.

“
I’m so…so sorry.” His chin quivered. “I just couldn’t, Rich. I couldn’t love you. I’m sorry.”

I felt pressure in my neck and face. “I’m sorry, too, Dad.”

“
It wasn’t your fault. Any man would have been proud to have you as a son.” His jaw dropped open and his eyes reached out to me in a way they’d never done before. “Please forgive me, Rich.”

I covered his hands with mine and leaned closer. A tear dripped off my chin onto his shoulder. “
Why
, Dad?
Why
couldn’t you love me? What was wrong with me? Just tell me that one thing will you please?” He stared into my eyes. The beeping raced faster. My voice became thin and squeaky. “Is that so much to ask? What more could I have done?”

A buzzer on the monitor abruptly shattered the silence of the room. His head jolted back. “Promise me you will never repeat what I am about to tell you for as long as you live.”