My Big Fat Fake Wedding(104)

“I loved him more than is healthy, but Giuseppe was one of those men who always had an angle, always a scheme . . . and more often than not ended up the sucker. I blame us for living in New York, that city . . . eh, it is what it is. But ’Seppe . . . I can’t tell you the number of times he’d come home having lost five hundred dollars here, a thousand there. That is a lot of money today, but back then it was months of wages. One time, he even lost five thousand dollars from our retirement account because of some ‘plan’ he had.”

I look over, surprised. “I didn’t know that.” Apparently, hearing about my Uncle’s poor choices is supposed to make me feel better about my own, but losing money and what I’ve done to Papa are nothing alike.

Sofia nods, chuckling. “I tore the hide off Giuseppe’s back more than once when he screwed up, and he slept on the couch more days than our children probably remember. But the reason I stayed with him . . . well, two reasons. One, Giuseppe might have been a sucker, but he was also a man who’d do whatever it took to fix things. That five thousand dollars? It took him six months of working a second job at night to replace it, but he did it. He made us right again. Second, I loved him. And love is sometimes crazy, Violet.”

My voice is small, quiet enough to keep it just between the two of us. “I would do anything to make this right because I love Papa so much. You’re right, love is crazy, and maybe what I did was ridiculous, but it was because I wanted to give him that memory. I wanted to give us that moment.”

Aunt Sofia tilts her head, looking at me with soft eyes. “That is true, Violet. But I think you’re missing the point of my story. I’m not talking about Stefano. I’m talking about your Ross.”

I protest, “I can’t do that right now. It was all for Papa, and I have to focus on him.”

She hums noncommittally and pats my hand, letting me disappear into my mind. Thoughts of Ross and the wedding try to sneak in, but I push them out, not able to handle thinking of that when my grandfather is lying on a table with his chest open and we’re praying for a miracle.

Sometime later, Archie comes in with lunch. He’s subdued too, not his usual big and brash self, which only reiterates how dire the situation is. But at least he’s on my side and not judging me for the fake wedding. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. If anything, this is that sniveling rat, Colin’s, fault.”

He’s trying to make me feel better, but we both know this is on me.

Dr. Lee comes through the double doors down the hall that we’ve been staring at, and we all stand, his few steps down the hall to the waiting room taking way too long. “Angela,” he says, taking her hands, and my heart stops.

No! No, no, no, no. Please!

“The surgery was rough, but it was a success.” A sigh of relief goes through the room and then a few whoops of joy sound out. Dr. Lee smiles, but it’s that detached professional one that doctors have. Distantly, I wonder if they practice that in the mirror during medical school.

“But that was the first step of many. He has a long way to go, so I want you to be prepared for that. He’s in the recovery room, and we’ll get him into ICU tonight. At some point, we’ll wean him off the medications keeping him unconscious and see how he does, how his heart reacts. He’s going to be a hospital guest for a while.”

Dr. Lee looks around the room. “Please, everyone, go home, get some rest,” he urges us. “There’s nothing you can do for him sitting here.”

A few of my cousins glance at each other and nod, getting up to kiss Nana on the cheek and promising they’ll be back if needed. Nana kisses them back, giving them all a little bit of comfort before they walk out. As they pass me, though, more than a few give me dirty looks, and I doubt that I’m going to be invited to any more family gatherings anytime soon.

Finally, it’s just Nana, Sofia, Mom, and me, and the doctor clears his throat. “Mrs. Russo, you really—”

“No.”

She doesn’t raise her voice, she doesn’t sound shrill or hysterical. She simply is stating the truth. The only way she’s leaving this hospital is if she’s physically carried out.

Dr. Lee doesn’t know Nana the way our family does, though, and tries to talk to her. “Mrs. Russo, you need to rest, and eat, and—”

“And I’m sure that my husband is being provided with a hospital meal. I can eat that,” Nana says matter-of-factly. “As for sleep . . . at my age, sleeping is something I can do sitting in a chair by my husband’s bedside just as well as I can in a regular bed. Now leave me alone.”

Dr. Lee turns to us, knowing when he’s been beaten. “I’ll stay with Mama,” Mom says. “Someone needs to go to the house and wrangle the family.”

“We’ll go,” Sofia says quietly, taking my hand and hauling me up with unexpected strength.

I swallow but go over to Nana and kiss her on the cheek. “Nana, I—”

“I know, dearie,” Nana says, patting my cheek. “And Stefano knows too.”

I kiss her again, leaving before I start crying again. In the hallway, Sofia takes my arm and pats my hand. “You heard the doctor. He’s going to be okay.” That’s not what he said, but it’s what I need to believe. “Come on, let’s get back to Angela’s and feed everyone. It’s what we Italians do . . . feed a fever, feed a cold, feed to celebrate, feed to mourn, feed our families at every chance we get.” She’s trying to distract me with silly prattles, but the thought of going to Nana and Papa’s house and seeing his favorite chair empty as everyone studiously ignores me, is more than I can take.