L.A. Weather
Page 14
“I’m sorry to ask you this, but if you’re out here, who’s driving the car?” she addressed the doctors in the elevator.
“We’re estimating this surgery to last at least until midnight. We need to take bathroom breaks and eat,” explained one of the doctors, the good-looking one with the goatee. He did seem a bit famished.
“I’m afraid you’ll say yes if I ask you if the hood is open.”
“It is. Your sister’s brain is exposed right now, but it’s all under control. We’re in a super sterile environment. An infection is the least of our worries at this point.”
As the doctors made their way to the grill bar to order bacon cheeseburgers with fries, Olivia felt her nausea intensify as she imagined Claudia’s bare brain throbbing with diminishing energy, getting accustomed to the unremarkable endeavor of expiring.
Hospital cafeterias weren’t precisely adequate environments to foster profound thoughts, and yet, in a perverse way, they were. Olivia sat down alone at a sticky Formica table. In front of her was a paper cup filled with weak tea, bathed by an excess of fluorescent lighting. She wondered if her sister had a list of unfulfilled wishes and desires. Had she ever wished to travel to Antarctica? Perhaps get breast augmentation? How about the desire to have a baby? Take up hang gliding? Win a marathon? Travel to India for yoga camp? Knowing she had a tumor growing inside her skull, would she have taken more risks, say, going on a bungee-jumping spree, or parachuting out of airplanes? Or was that too predictable and boring? Perhaps she had aspired to snatch a kayak out of a sporting goods store in plain sight.
These ludicrous ideas were only proof to Olivia that her sister had been immensely accomplished in the goals she had set for herself, goals that really mattered, for instance becoming a celebrity chef, achieving financial independence early on in her life, and living in an enviable marriage. Gabriel had proved to be a loving, dependable husband, from what Olivia could see; a fact that stung deep, now that her marriage was unraveling. Would Felix have flown back across the country like Gabriel did if she’d been the victim of a tumor? Unlikely.
In the past few hours Gabriel had been helpful, sorting out all the matters that no one else in the family had a level head to do under the circumstances, like dealing with the insurance paperwork. He had brought the notarized advance directive to physicians expressing Claudia’s wish not to be kept alive by artificial means, like respirators. It seemed to Olivia that making himself useful was Gabriel’s way of dealing with the crisis, giving orders and not even trying to control a nervous tic she’d noticed before in which he constantly rubbed his right eyebrow.
The waiting area benefited from the quietness of the afternoon. Most relatives and friends of patients undergoing surgery or in recovery had left to go about their business in the world of the healthy. The priest and the rabbi had gone to their respective church and synagogue a while ago. Eric had spent the entire day camping out in the waiting area—pale yellow vinyl chairs in facing rows—texting or stepping aside to the elevator lobby to make business phone calls, but he’d left earlier to catch a flight back to San Francisco. As for Felix, no one asked why hadn’t he gone to the hospital to be with Olivia. No one really expected him to, the family outsider. The surgeons had returned to the operating room to continue their attempts to save Claudia.
Oscar sat by the window and looked out now and then, perhaps hoping to grow wings and escape into the thin atmosphere. Keila, Olivia, and Patricia discussed with Gabriel the updates they were provided by the surgeons, who came out to the waiting area at intervals. Every time the doors swung open the entire family would get up from their seats to surround the doctor.
“The good news is that Claudia’s vitals are fine. The chance of uncontrolled hemorrhaging is now minimal,” said the surgeon.
When the Alvarados went back to find their seats, Gabriel said quietly, “She always told me she wanted to be cremated. I’m looking into a couple of funeral homes.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? Last I heard she was still alive,” said Patricia, suddenly incensed.
“I’m just trying to be practical. Does anyone here really believe she’s going to make it? I almost wish she won’t. She might end up paraplegic, or God knows what else. What kind of life is she going to have?”
“What kind of life are you going to have, being forced to care for her? Is that what you mean?” snapped Patricia, now visibly angry, the Kleenex in her sweaty hand torn to shreds.
“Stop this nonsense right now,” Keila insisted. “We’re all very worried and short-fused. Let’s not start insulting each other. We need to stick together.”
“For the record, and you all know it damn well,” said Gabriel, “there’s no one in this world I love more than Claudia, and if she lives I will take full charge of her recovery and care, whatever it takes. What I said had nothing to do with my quality of life, but hers.”
“She’s going to live. Don’t you know my sister?” said Patricia.
“Be realistic, for God’s sake!”
“I really don’t think you know my sister better than anyone in this room,” said Olivia, immediately thinking about Claudia’s list, the contents of which she couldn’t start to imagine. Did she indeed know Claudia better than Gabriel? She bit her lip and headed for the hallway.
Patricia caught up with her by the elevators.
“Let’s get some fresh air.”
They walked along Burton Way toward Beverly Hills. This two-mile stretch that started near Cedars-Sinai Medical Center was one of the few streets in Los Angeles with a wide, grassy median, and possibly the least traffic in the entire city.
“I never see anyone on this street,” said Patricia.
“There’s a nanny with a stroller over there.”
“Okay, one person.”
“And the baby.”
“That makes two, and us, that’s four. We should have gone to Beverly Center instead and gotten a drink. Now I’m going to get a blister on my foot with these not-meant-for-walking shoes.”
Patricia took off the spaghetti-strap sandals she’d worn to a meeting early that morning, but obviously the wrong choice of shoes to wear during what turned out to be hours of waiting and pacing around the hospital corridors, and walked barefoot on the dried-out grass. The city had shut down irrigation of all parks and public spaces to set the example for citizens to do the same in their backyards, and the once-green landscape was now a sea of dead shrubs.
Olivia called Lola to fill her in.
“What a relief. I’m sure she’s in good hands. These doctors are the best in town,” Lola said upon hearing the news that Claudia was alive. “I’m thinking about her, you tell her that.”
“You’ll be able to tell her yourself. I’ll stay with the twins sometime next week while you come down to visit her. How are they, by the way?”
“Andrea is taking a nap. Diana is drawing. Don’t you worry about them. And if you need me to watch them on my days off, I’ll do it. I know you want to be with Clau.”
Olivia hung up, overcome by sadness. A gentle, warm breeze swayed the palm tree leaves like hula dancers in slow motion on a car’s dashboard.
“Have you ever wondered what might be on Claudia’s bucket list?” Olivia asked Patricia.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“We’ll have to wait for her to recover so she can tell us herself.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t have a bucket list. Do you?”
“No. When do you start thinking about these things?” Patricia asked.
“When you realize your time on earth ends at some point, so you pick and choose the few things that you most want to do before you kick the bucket. You’re under thirty. You’re probably still thinking you’ve got the Unlimited Minutes Plan, but look at what’s happening with Claudia.”
“She’s going to make it.”
Olivia’s eyes moistened and she quickly dried her tears with her sleeve, hoping that Patricia
wouldn’t notice.
“Hey, trust me, she will pull through.”
“I know. It’s all of it together.” Olivia took a deep breath, stopped walking, and looked Patricia in the eye. “I can’t keep this from you any longer. I’m leaving Felix. We’re done.”
Patricia stopped, the dry grass making her bare feet itch. “Whoa. So, you’re really doing it. It’s about the embryos, right?”
“It’s an accumulation of things. I’m so tired of his temper and his meanness.”
“He’s not the most likable person, you know how we feel about him, but I didn’t think he was that awful with you. You never tell us.”
“It is awful, and has been for a while. I’ve never wanted to worry you. In the end it came down to the battle of the embryos. It’s my fault.”
“Can’t be.”
“Can too. I just killed my marriage.”
As Olivia explained the situation to Patricia, they reached the end of Burton Way, where the street merges with Little Santa Monica, the commercial district of Beverly Hills, and walked toward Wally’s, a wine shop and restaurant that Patricia wanted to try.
The scene at the bar was loud and happy in the middle of, well, happy hour, so the sisters had to raise their voices to hear each other.
Olivia signaled the waiter, and with a couple of words and restaurant-friendly nonverbal gestures indicating wine being poured into a glass, the sisters got their drinks within minutes.
“It’s not your fault,” said Patricia, catching the attention of a couple sitting next to them. “Yes, you pushed the fertility issue a bit hard, and yes, Felix participated in the plan, humored you when you kept insisting, and was with you all along the way, crisis after crisis, miscarriage after miscarriage, but he reached his limit with the remaining frozen embryos and that pushed you over your own limit. So, whose fault is it? All parties involved, or no one at all. But who cares? I’d say, stop the blame game and focus on divorcing quickly. And, look, if you’re really set on salvaging those embryos, whether they live forever in the freezer or they find their way into the world, I’m with you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”
“You know what the reason is. We discussed this already.”
They ordered two more rounds while discussing strategies to save the embryos, some feasible (take Felix to court), some outlandish (misplace the embryos), and others outright illegal (steal the embryos). After an hour of scheming, Patricia got a text from Keila.
Where are you? Gabriel is being unreasonable. I need you here now.
Alarmed after checking their watches, Olivia called an Uber and, tipsy as they were, they returned to the hospital to find a full-blown fight between Keila and Gabriel, who were yelling at each other by the nurses’ station.
“But why the fuck do you bring out Claudia’s last will at this point?” yelled Keila, who was holding a document in her hand.
The fuck? Olivia had never heard her mother curse. She looked at Patricia, puzzled.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Gabriel wants to make sure we’re all aware that he is the sole heir to Claudia’s assets, so he’s brought her trust papers to the hospital to rub in our noses.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would be insensitive. I’m just trying to take care of the practical stuff,” he said.
“Insensitive? Did you say insensitive? It’s insulting!” Keila was clearly undone and in need of backup for words, so Patricia stepped in.
“Look, Gabriel, we don’t give a shit about Claudia’s will. If she’s leaving everything to you, fine, but don’t come here anticipating her death because she’s not going to die!”
“Face the inevitable, Patricia.”
Enraged, Patricia went for Gabriel’s shirt collar and rattled him with unfamiliar strength, and just short of the aggression becoming an assault, Olivia and Keila pried her away. Two of the nurses who had been watching the fight escalate ran to get a security guard.
“Where’s Dad?” asked Patricia, sobbing. “I need Dad.”
“I’m right here, chamaquita,” said Oscar, who had just arrived. He grabbed her and held her tight against his chest. This was the embrace she had been longing for. This was the love she had missed so much in the past months. She took it in, wrapping her arms around Oscar’s shoulders.
“You’re all going to have to leave right now,” said the security guard as he arrived.
“Look, sir, I just got here. I haven’t seen my daughter,” said Oscar.
“Everyone out or I’ll have to restrain you!”
They all left the nurses’ station quietly, and each drove away, alone in their own car. Something had broken between the Alvarados and Gabriel. Olivia could almost hear it crash on the floor. She realized she had never fully trusted him, but made the effort to be amicable because she knew how much Claudia loved him, and after all, once he was married to her sister, he was family. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were denying the painful reality that Claudia was dying.
Sunday, May 8th
No one remembered it was Mother’s Day.
Monday, May 9th
These were the permanent water-conservation measures imposed by the governor: a ban on irrigating lawns within two days of a rainstorm; no more hosing down driveways; restrictions on offering water to hotel and restaurant guests; and other extreme measures, such as flushing toilets only when solid waste needed to be drained. Although Northern California had recently enjoyed some wet days and its reservoirs had been replenished, still more than 90 percent of the state was in its fifth year of severe drought.
Oscar welcomed the conservation news. He was a faithful follower of the famous “If it’s yellow it’s mellow; if it’s brown flush it down” refrain whenever he used the toilet, in spite of Keila’s complaints. She had yet to acknowledge the new normal, in which water was scarce and needed to be used sparingly, instead of lingering in the shower and keeping the faucet water running while she brushed her teeth.
But as Oscar drove to the hospital determined to camp out until Claudia recovered, no matter what the security guard ordered, he realized there was a far more life-changing new normal awaiting the Alvarados.
Wednesday, May 11th
“You need to go home and shower. You’ve been here since Monday.”
Keila sniffed Oscar’s shirt collar. He pulled back, startled by her proximity.
“Claudia is not going to recover because you wander up and down the hospital hallways all day. She’s in stable condition and that’s the great news we need to hold on to.”
“It’s her birthday. I can’t leave her alone.”
“Get some rest. I’ll be here.”
“Fine, and I’ll bring back a cake. We’ll blow out the candles on her behalf.”
Oscar held his gaze on Keila a bit longer, turned around, and went home.
Friday, May 13th
Twice in the same year is more than enough, thought Daniel on the way to the hospital. He’d visited his little cousins, the twins, when they nearly drowned, and now his aunt Claudia. Sitting in the passenger seat next to Patricia, he wondered in silence if the family was cursed. It seemed to him that all of a sudden they were going through emergencies and crises on a monthly basis. He realized it was Friday the 13th and his stomach churned. Was this a bad omen?
“She’s still in a coma, so she may not know you’re visiting. It hasn’t been long enough since the surgery for her to be awake. But feel free to talk to her in case she’s listening. I’m sure she’d be very happy to hear your voice,” said Patricia.
“Could she die while we’re with her in the room?”
“Yes—” She paused before continuing. “—she could die at any moment, but right now I’ve heard from the doctors that she’s stable. Since they disconnected the breathing machine, she’s been hanging on, so I wouldn’t worry too much. She looks dead, but she’s not. Her body is using all the energy it can to heal.”
“What if she stays like that forever?”
“What if the beep in the heart machine goes flat while I’m in the room?”
“Have you been watching Grey’s Anatomy?”
“House.”
“Even worse. You can hug her and kiss her, just do it very carefully. You don’t want to mess up the IV. She’ll be fine. I do it every day.”
Since the first day after the surgery, Patricia had visited Claudia and quietly conducted business from her cellphone while she sat in what must be the most uncomfortable chair she’d ever used aside from the ones in school cafeterias, jury-duty waiting rooms, and the Mexico City airport. But since it was the only chair in the ICU waiting area, she’d hoard it with gusto. Every so often, as permitted by the nurses, she’d briefly go into the room and watch her sister lie in bed immobile, sallow, thinner than she already was, wishing for her to wake up, put some clothes on, and get on with her life. The surgery was in the past. The tumor had been dissected and analyzed in a lab that corroborated its benign nature. The fear of Claudia being incapable of breathing on her own had now dissipated. She had been disconnected from all life-support devices after Gabriel instructed the doctors to do so, and there she was, alive.
Patricia, Olivia, Keila, and Oscar took turns going into the room, since they could stay with her for only an hour each day per ICU rules. But they promised one another never to leave Claudia alone, even if they had to keep watch outside in the hallway. The atmosphere got tense whenever Gabriel showed up. Thankfully, he’d gone back to New York to deal with lawyers on an intellectual-property lawsuit between two screenwriters, leaving Ramsay and Velcro at the Alvarados’.
Patricia found street parking (unheard-of in the vicinity of the hospital) and walked with Daniel the couple of blocks to the front entrance. The room was quiet, except for little beeping noises, an inherent part of the landscape. Claudia lay immobile in the semidarkness. Only a few rays of afternoon light came through the shades in straight beams and fell on the blanket that draped her. Daniel approached the bed and took Claudia’s hand.