“There is no need for her to stay at the hospital.”Thank fuck!“So you can take her home. She needs rest, and the gash on her head will need constant tending to. Would you like me to send over a nurse to care for her?”
“Do you think it’s necessary? I mean, we have lots of staff who can help if it’s just general care,” I reply.
“That should be fine. Ensuring she gets rest and changing her bandage should be all she needs. If something more serious should pop up, I can be there in mere minutes. You know I don’t live far from your family home.”
“Anything else? Something tells me there is more.”
“Yes, there is. This is the most important thing, Michael.” He takes a deep breath. “You must not push her to remember things. Do not put things in front of her such as pictures to force her memories. She has to remember on her own. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Also, it’s important you don’t treat her any different. She’s still a human being, and she is already confused enough. Once you start treating her as if she is fragile or that something is wrong, it could trigger all types of fears and stress, which could make her condition worsen.”
“Okay, got it,” I reply.
“Good, then I’ll have the orderlies bring her back, and she can get ready to go home.”
“Thanks, Dr. Siegel,” I say as he prepares to leave.
“Anytime, son. You know I would do anything for your pop and his family.” He gives me a quick pat on the back and turns to leave the room. Calling behind him, he says, “Remember what I said. Treat her normally, and do not volunteer any information. She will remember on her own.”
I look at Ricco. “Now what the fuck do I do?”
“Call Vince. You know he’s got to be worried sick about his sister. He’s gonna want to know what the doctor said.”
“I know, but he’s also gonna want to see her. You heard the doctor. He said to not force her memories. Don’t you think seeing her brother will do just that?” I ask.
Ricco shakes his head. “Aw fuck, man. I don’t know then.” We’re both silent, waiting for Zaira to return, and lost in thought when Ricco says, “You need to consult with your old man. You can’t keep him out of the loop on this one.”
I hate it when he’s right. But fuck, he’s so damn right, it pisses me off. My father is always the voice of reason, and he will not hesitate to point out that what I am considering is wrong. Maybe it is, but I feel too strongly about this to not move forward with having her stay with me. I will tell him, but I won’t change my mind. “Yeah,” I say, conceding. “I need to talk to Pop.”
A few minutes later, Zaira is wheeled into the room in a wheelchair. The orderly who is pushing her says, “This young lady is ready to go home.”
Although I am elated to see her awake, her appearance breaks my heart. She’s still wearing the dress she was wearing at the engagement party. It’s dirty and torn.Why didn’t I think to bring her something of Gina’s to wear?Her hair is disheveled and unkept.I could have given her a brush.Zaira was always so well put together. Looking at her now in this state, she reminds me of a lost child with no home and no money. I walk toward the wheelchair and say, “We’re ready to go.”
Zaira looks at me cautiously as I approach and asks, “Who are you?”
I’m not gonna lie to her, so I tell her the truth. “I’m Michael, your friend.”
“You are?” she asks curiously.
I nod. “Yep, I am. And now we’re gonna get you home.”
She suddenly appears panicked and looks at Ricco. Worry crosses her face.
Before she can ask, I say, “That’s Ricco. You don’t need to worry about him. He’s always hanging around where he isn’t wanted.”
Ricco feigns a broken heart as if I hurt his feelings, and Zaira hesitantly smiles. Fuck, that feels like a major accomplishment. But it quickly fades, and her smiles turns back to fear.
I kneel in front of the wheelchair. “Zaira, I know you are confused and scared. I promise you are safe with Ricco and me. We’re gonna take you home where you can rest.”
She looks at me curiously, and the stiffness in her shoulders recedes as she begins to relax. She smiles. I get up from kneeling and look at the orderly, indicating with a nod that we are good to leave.
As we wheel out of the room, I hear “Michael” in the frailest of voices. Realizing it came from Zaira, I ask to stop a minute and turn toward her.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I reply.
“Thank you,” she whispers and then says, “You have kind eyes.”
I am totally shocked by her words. That’s the second time she has told me that, but fuck if she doesn’t remember the first time.Or does she?
