The Turning Tides (Marina's Tales) Page 5

  I smiled, and did. By the time I got showered off and back to my dad’s room I was exhausted.

  “Thanks, Paul,” I nodded, taking over the watch for Evie. I put on some music and curled up in the recliner by his bed. When I woke it was dark outside, and I sat up to stretch with a yawn.

  “Is it Beethoven?” my father asked.

  I wheeled around to meet his clear eyes. He looked towards the music player.

  “Yes… yes… I think it’s Moonlight Sonata,” I stammered.

  He sighed, “It was your mother’s favorite.”

  “Oh Dad!” I yelped. I leapt out of my chair and hugged him, taking care not to disturb his arm.

  “What happened?” he asked, and I pulled back to see him struggling to remember. He squeezed his eyes shut, “I was talking to you on the phone… Oh no… Oh my God… Hamid!”

  His face was terrible when he finally remembered. I could see him piece it all together and my heart ached for him. A man had been blown to bits in front of him, and I knew that he’d feel responsible for the accident. He felt responsible for everything.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I told him gently.

  “But his family… his wife,” he struggled to sit up, his voice anguished.

  “I’ve taken care of it,” Evie’s voice rang out from the doorway. She must have heard me cry out. She came in and stood beside me. “They’ll not want for anything.”

  He nodded, falling back onto his pillow, “Thank you Evie.”

  Over the next few days, we prepared to take him back to San Francisco. There was more bad news from Afghanistan; Evie had to sit down and tell my father that his field laboratory had been looted, and all of his valuable research had been lost or destroyed. He was despondent.

  “I spent a whole year away from Marina for nothing,” he said grimly.

  “Martin, there will be other opportunities for your research to go forward. We’ll have you back at work in no time at all,” she promised.

  “Look at me,” he said, holding up his mangled hand. “I’m no good to anyone like this.”

  Evie was at a loss for words, and I could tell that she never expected things to go so completely off the rails. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to dealing with failure, so she threw herself into making sure everything having to do with the move home was executed perfectly. She lived on the phone, making all kinds of appointments and arrangements, and lining up the best specialists in San Francisco for consultations.

  Evie was in complete management mode, and when she got this way about anything, failure was simply not an option.

  Moving day finally came, and Dad grimaced with pain as we loaded him into the ambulance. I felt completely helpless, cringing along with every bump and jolt. My phone rang, and I looked to see it was Ethan.

  “Can I call you right back?” I asked.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

  I was wound up tight, watching my father’s arm flopping helplessly, “We’re just taking my father to the airport.”

  “Didn’t you get my messages?” he asked impatiently.

  Paul interrupted me, calling out in the background, “Are you going to ride along?”

  I lowered the phone, “Yes Paul! Just a minute, okay?”

  “Are you too busy with Paul?” he asked bitterly.

  I turned away, “What? Ethan, I have to go now… I’ll call you later.”

  I hung up abruptly and climbed into the ambulance, taking Dad’s good hand and patting it gently. I stayed by his side the whole flight, fretfully watching him suffer. Before I knew it we were touching down in San Francisco and Boris was there to help carefully move his cot from Evie’s jet. We loaded him into another ambulance and brought him directly to the huge freight elevator at the back of Evie’s building. It opened up into Evie’s vast pantry, and I watched as Boris wheeled Dad through her kitchens and across the hall to our apartment.

  “Velcome home sir,” Boris said solemnly.

  Clearly, he had been very busy while we were away. The place had been completely remodeled. The first thing I noticed was a hospital bed set up in the library just adjacent to the kitchen. I peeked into the guest room to discover all of Cruz’s things were missing.

  I ran back out, “Where’s Cruz?” I asked, alarmed.

  Don’t worry dear, I’ve had him moved to an apartment one floor down. We’re still neighbors.”

  I walked into my former art studio to find that Cruz’s sewing room had been transformed into a rehabilitation facility that would be the envy of any medical center. There was a ton of weightlifting equipment, a stretching contraption with all sorts of pulleys and straps, massage tables, and a treadmill facing a giant television screen. A whirlpool Jacuzzi sat on a pedestal overlooking the magnificent view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “There isn’t a hospital around that’s better equipped,” Evie’s voice rang out behind me.

  I turned to see her, standing alongside a black-eyed beauty with mahogany skin and glossy, raven black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She somehow managed to look stunning draped in a shapeless medical smock; even her unfashionable eyeglasses couldn’t hide the fact that she was a gorgeous woman. A dark woman. Fatima’s words rang in my ears.

  Evie came up beside me, gesturing, “Marina, allow me to introduce you to Doctor Amrita Permala. She’s an orthopedic surgeon and an expert in physiotherapy and nutrition. She’ll be supervising your father’s recovery.”

  “Hello,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. She took mine formally, awkward and stiff.

  “It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” she said solemnly, her piercing dark eyes darting away nervously.

  “Boris has been assisting Doctor Permala in acquiring everything she’ll need for your father’s medical care.”

  I looked around, “It’s very impressive.”

  “Amrita will be staying in the guest room and monitoring your father’s condition around the clock,” Evie announced.

  “Oh,” I was surprised, “I was planning on sticking around to help for awhile…”

  Evie smiled, “That’s wonderful news! I assumed you’d want to get back to school right away.” I could see her mind working, “You’ll love attending college in the city! I can make arrangements to have you transferred into San Francisco–”

  “I’m not planning on moving back... I just wasn’t going to leave him until I know he’ll be okay on his own,” I said defensively.

  Once again, I felt like Evie was trying to manage my life– and separate me from Ethan. I was a little annoyed that she hadn’t consulted me before hiring someone, but then again, my father’s condition was grave enough to warrant a professional. I knew that Evie had our best interests at heart, and she knew a good deal more than I did about medical matters. She was always right, I told myself… Except about Olivia… And probably Yuri.

  I studied Doctor Permala skeptically, noticing how she clutched her clipboard tightly, and twisted a pen in her hand with nervous fingers. “I’ll just go check on Dad,” I announced, leaving the room.

  Boris had transferred my father to his new hospital bed, and was busy showing him how to operate the controls. I left them to it, retreating to my room to call Ethan.

  “Where are you? Are you at the airport? What’s going on?” he started in with a barrage of questions, finally complaining, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple of days.”

  “We just got back home,” I said, “I had my phone turned off in the plane… What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I’ve been worried… Every time I call you I get that Paul guy… It just sounds like… He acts like you don’t want to talk to me… He seems to think–”

  “Paul can be kind of blunt,” I explained, recalling his no-nonsense attitude. “But I don’t know what we would have done without him. He’s been a huge help.”

&n
bsp; He was quiet for a minute, “When are you coming home?”

  “Oh Ethan…” I sighed, “I miss you, but I can’t leave my dad like this. I think I should stay at least for a couple of days to make sure he’s gonna be okay.”

  “Can I come up?”

  “I was hoping you would! You need to meet my dad.”

  “Did you tell him about us?” He sounded anxious.

  “No, I thought we planned on doing it together.”

  “Good,” he said with relief, “How about I come up right now?”

  I frowned, “I’m afraid he’s kind of tired from the travel… I was thinking maybe the three of us could have dinner together as soon as he’s up to it.”

  “When do you think that will be?”

  “I don’t know… But I want him to be awake when you meet. He’s taking a lot of pain killers and they pretty much wipe him out. He’s not really himself yet.”

  “Don’t you miss me?”

  “Of course I do!”

  He sighed, “There always seems to be something keeping us apart.”

  “I know,” I said, “But it won’t be much longer. I’m just so relieved we finally got him home.”

  “It’s even worse knowing that you’re only a couple of hours away,” he groaned, “I get so lonely when you’re not around.”

  “What about Stumpy?”

  “He reminds me of you.”

  “I promise I’ll be home soon,” I told him firmly, “And then we can get my studio moved in... and finally be together.”

  He sighed a defeated sigh, “Tell me as soon as he’s better… okay?”

  “I can’t wait,” I said.

  “Funny,” he said, “That’s all I ever do.”

  ~

  Chapter Five

  ROSA

  ~

  The next morning I tiptoed into the kitchen, expecting my father to still be sleeping. I heard the low sound of voices and rounded the corner to see Doctor Permala ministering to his arm. She was cutting the gauze away with surgical scissors, and as she peeled back the dressing I could see fresh blood. I winced, bringing my hand to my mouth.

  I could tell it was painful from across the room, but her voice was calm and steady as she described the extent of the damage to him. She seemed incredibly cold blooded and clinical to me, but he listened to her with a scientist’s curiosity, and I could see that her approach was drawing him out of his reflexive melancholy.

  He needed something to focus on. He was always restless until he engrossed himself in something challenging; burying himself in the world of measurable facts to avoid engaging in the world of people. Without a work project to hide behind my father was cut adrift, and completely out of his element. I figured his recovery would be a worthy project for him to turn his attention to.

  “Good morning,” I called out, walking past them to the kitchen.

  They both looked up, but only my father smiled, “Good morning.”

  “I’m making some coffee… anyone want some?”

  My father groaned, “Heck yeah! I can’t remember the last time I had a decent cup of coffee!”

  Doctor Permala stood up. “Mr. Vanderpool, I must insist that you give up coffee.”

  My father and I both looked at her in shock.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” I laughed.

  She thrust her jaw out stubbornly, staring at me while folding her arms across her chest protectively. “I most certainly am not,” she said, black eyes blazing.

  I mimicked her stance and stared back at her with angry eyes. She had no idea how much my father loved his coffee.

  Dad looked back and forth between us, alarmed. “It’s okay Marina… I can live without it…” Seeing us lock horns was making him uncomfortable.

  Seeing her step in and try to micro-manage every detail of my father’s life was irritating me. I ignored her, addressing my father, “Can I make you some toast or something?” I asked.

  “Your father has already had his breakfast,” she answered for him.

  I wheeled around to comment, but Dad jumped in before I could say anything, “I’m fine, honey… The doctor is taking care of everything.”

  Doctor Permala finished redressing the wound in silence. She looked flustered as she excused herself and retreated to her room.

  I watched her go. “She’s kinda bossy, isn’t she?”

  He shrugged, “Evie says she’s the best.”

  “Only the best for Evie,” I said wryly.

  I poured two cups of coffee, putting one down on the table set up alongside his hospital bed. “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.”

  He took it, looking at me with an appraising eye, “Since when did you get so sneaky?”

  I smirked at him, but I had to admit, he was right. I’d always kept things to myself, but now lying and secrecy had become my second nature. Slipping my father a forbidden cup of coffee was a trivial move in light of all of the surreal and unbelievable truths I had bottled up inside of me.

  “So what do you have planned for today?” he asked, checking over his shoulder for the doctor as he sipped his coffee.

  “I thought I’d hang out here and read.”

  He frowned, “I hate for you to miss so much school.”

  “I’ll get caught up.” I wandered over to peruse the bookshelf, finally choosing an old favorite and settling in on the couch with it. We sat together quietly for the rest of the morning, and when the doctor passed through I could see her eyes dart over to the cup by my father’s bedside. Her face fell, but she said nothing.

  “Psst… Could you please take this away?” Dad nodded to the empty cup when she left. “I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  When I rose to take it there was a knock on the door, and I opened it to see Evie sweep inside in all of her splendor. She was dressed completely in white and dripping with pearls. We embraced before she rushed to my father’s side.

  “Martin dear,” she cooed, bending to kiss both of his cheeks. “How are you feeling? Are you comfortable? Is Doctor Permala taking good care of you?”

  “Easy,” he forced a smile, holding up his good hand. He struggled to sit up, “I’m fine, now that I’m home.”

  His false cheeriness wasn’t fooling Evie. She fingered the pearls at her neck as she studied him shrewdly. I knew she could see the tight set of his jaw and the pain in his eyes.

  “Do you need more medication?”

  “Evie, I’m alright… I’m only a little tired, that’s all.”

  She turned to face me, “Shall we let your father get some rest? There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

  “Please do,” Dad said with relief. “She shouldn’t be cooped up in here all day.”

  Evie ushered me out, scolding me along the way about my casual outfit, “Honestly dear! Those sneakers are truly hideous… Luckily, I found a fabulous new shop that makes custom riding boots to die for. They have a new man in from Hong Kong, and he should have my order ready by now… Bespoke shoes are all the rage in New York…”

  I waved goodbye to my father, who watched us file out with amusement, finally slumping back down and closing his eyes.

  We got to the garage, and Evie insisted I drive the Phantom convertible. We drove along the city streets, and she turned to me at a stoplight, “He seems depressed, doesn’t he?”

  I nodded my agreement, “I suppose it’s understandable after everything he’s been through.”

  I could feel Evie’s frustration. She wasn’t accustomed to her muse powers failing her, and had always been able to solve every problem she put her mind to. She was still looking for the silver lining of this latest cloud to be revealed to her; I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had no faith in its existence.

  I’d learned that fate was capricious. I planned to make my own luck.

  Evie directed me where to drive, and when she had me pull up in front of a familiar pink stucco house I turned to her with a baleful glare.

  “What fresh
hell is this?” I asked.

  She looked at me reproachfully, “Just for a minute… Fatima’s been pestering me to bring you to see her all week. She doesn’t want to do a reading. She told me she only needs to give you a message.”

  “Why not tell you?”

  “She said she must deliver it personally.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear any more of her messages,” I said, eyeing the house uneasily.

  “She said she only needed a minute– She asked me to send you in alone.”

  I sighed with resignation. If I refused to go in I’d never hear the end of it from Evie. Maybe Fatima had some worthwhile information about her last prediction… Maybe she wanted to take it back.

  I stepped out into the breezy autumn afternoon, brushing the hair from my eyes. I felt like I was marching into a lion’s den as I headed into Fatima’s lair, opening the shrieking iron gates that led into her secluded courtyard. I could feel the eyes of the strange little garden gnomes that populated the lush ferns watching me. I wondered if they could smell fear, and I laughed out loud for letting my imagination run away with me.

  I stared back defiantly at the eyeball amulet that stood guard over the black door, steeling myself to knock. A small woman wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe opened up.

  “Uhm, I’m here to see Madame Fatima,” I told her.

  “This way,” she motioned for me to enter. She shuffled along in a large pair of fuzzy pink slippers. I followed her past the dimly lit reception area, but instead of going down the hall to the mirrored room she led me through a door into a brightly lit kitchen.

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked.

  “No thanks,” I replied, looking around the room. A cookie jar shaped like a pig smiled up at me from the counter, next to canisters marked “flour”, “sugar” and “tea”. The refrigerator was covered with children’s drawings, held up with magnets topped with plastic fruits and vegetables.

  “Have a seat,” the little woman said, turning to stir a pot of tomato sauce bubbling on the stove. When she joined me at the table I got a good look at her.