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He gives her a perplexed look. “Of course I came to support you.”
“Um, this is my grandson Nico and his girlfriend, Sofia. This is, uh, Chris, my flight instructor.”
“Ohhhh,” I say on a deep exhale. I’ve heard a rumor that Livia may have a crush on the man who’s been teaching her to fly. “You’re Chris, the flight instructor.”
Nico stands, offers me a hand up and then shakes the other man’s hand. “Good to meet you.”
“You as well. How is your grandson, Livia?”
“He’s in surgery. We don’t know anything more than what I told you in the text.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, really. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Then I’ll wait with you and get you anything you might need.”
Is it my imagination, or does the formidable Livia Giordino blush when he says that? “You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist.”
Before she lets him guide her inside, where his arrival will give everyone something else to think about other than the dread we all feel over Milo, she looks at both of us again. “Are we clear on the whole blame thing?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nico kisses her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Sofia?”
“Yes, thank you.” I still feel responsible, but I’ll keep that thought to myself for now.
“Good. Come back inside.”
“We will,” Nico says. “In a minute.”
Livia nods to Chris, and they go in through automatic doors that release a whoosh of chilled air as they open.
Nico puts his arms around me. “Please stay with me. I need you.”
I hold him close. “I’m not going anywhere.”
NICO
This is a fucking nightmare sent straight from hell. As the hours crawl by with only sporadic updates from the operating room that tell us nothing more than Milo is still alive, I feel like my head is going to explode as I wait to hear if he’s going to survive. If he’s going to be paralyzed from the neck down, God help me, but I cannot bear to think about that possibility.
I can’t stop the tears that keep coming despite my desperate desire to be strong for my parents, grandmothers and Sofia, who still blames herself, despite what Nona and I have told her.
Sofia’s head is on my shoulder, her hand wrapped tightly around mine. She hasn’t left my side for a minute.
Abuela and Mr. Muñoz arrived after they closed the restaurant early. My cousin Domenic is sitting next to me. His parents are on the other side of him. All of us are receiving relentless texts from concerned friends, extended family and longtime customers of the restaurant hoping for news about Milo, but there’s nothing to tell them yet.
The sun has risen by the time Jason finally comes into the waiting room, wearing navy blue scrubs and looking as exhausted as the rest of us.
“He’s in recovery, which is good news. He survived a very difficult surgery.”
“And the paralysis?” my dad asks as he fights back tears.
“We won’t know anything on that for a while yet. There was a lot of bruising, bone fragments, etc. Our initial check of his reflexes was encouraging, but we won’t know anything for sure until he can tell us what he feels. I wish I had a more definitive answer on that, but we’re in wait-and-see mode while the swelling subsides and gives us a better sense of what he’ll be left with.”
My dad’s shoulders sag as he absorbs that news. What he’ll be left with… As if he’ll have less than he did before. I can’t hear that.
