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When Diana smiles, I catch Elora's soft, sweet look when she sees it. Every day for the past couple of weeks, Diana has gotten a little stronger, a little more aware, and every day, Elora has insisted on coming over to spend time with her.
If I hadn’t met her, I’m not sure I would be doing the same, not with how hectic my life typically is with work. But Val’s death and being with Elora have made me realize there are things more important than making money. It’s okay to slow down and enjoy the moment, the place you are, and the people around you.
When the nurse comes into the room, Elora sends me an unhappy look because she knows that means our time here is up. And even if Diana can’t communicate much at this point, she’s made it clear she likes having her around, and Elora likes giving that to her. Maybe because she remembers what it was like for her mom, but I think it’s just her.
The night I met her, even in my drunken state, I recognized how unique her ability to give freely without seeking anything in return was. And that was exactly what drew me to her in the beginning. What made me curious about her.
“We’ll be back tomorrow.” Elora leans in to give Diana a gentle hug. “If you’d like us to bring you anything, just let the nurses know, and we’ll pick it up before we come over.”
With a nod from Diana, Elora walks to the end of the bed to get out of the way of the nurse, who starts to adjust the bed so she can take Diana to the bathroom before she has her afternoon meds that usually put her to sleep.
“We’ll see you tomorrow.” I lean down and touch my lips to the side of my grandmother’s head. My grandfather wouldn’t have allowed the show of affection if he were alive, but he’s not here to stop me.
After telling the nurses to call us for any reason, I take Elora’s hand and lead her out of the brownstone. The house has been in my family for three generations, and except for the plumbing, electrical, and kitchen, everything, including the furniture, is exactly as it was when the house was first built, making it feel more like a museum than a home.
When we get outside, I lead Elora around to the passenger door of my car and hold on to it as she slides inside, then I lean in to buckle her belt, something that has become a habit.
“I really wish she would agree to come stay at your place,” she says after I press my lips to hers. This isn’t the first time she’s brought up this conversation. We have it every time we leave Diana.
“She wants to be in her home.”
“I know, but she has to be lonely.”
“She’s not lonely. People are in and out all day, and Mom tried to stay with her when she was released, but she’s been adamant that she doesn’t want people fawning over her twenty-four-seven.”
“Fine.” She sighs, and I smile as I fold out of the car and slam the door.
Walking around to the driver’s side, I slide in behind the wheel as my phone begins to ring. Seeing it’s Ricardo calling, I press Accept.
“Dad.”
“Roman, are you around?”
“Define around. Elora and I are just leaving Diana’s. What’s going on?”
“I need to speak with you. After you drop Elora off, can you come by the house?”
“Did something happen?”
“We just need to talk,” he says. “In private.”
“Give me an hour.” I hang up without saying goodbye, annoyance already settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Is everything okay?” Elora asks softly, and I glance over at her.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I force a reassuring smile in her direction, not wanting her to worry. It takes us thirty minutes to make it across town to my building, and since I refuse to just drop her off like she insists, I don’t make it to my parents’ house on 63rd Street for another hour. When I arrive, I park on the street, head up the wide steps to the front door, and ring the bell.
“Roman,” Jane, who has run my parents’ home for the last ten years, greets me with a smile. “How have you been?”
“Good, how are the kids?”
“Not kids anymore. Taylor is in her second year of college, and Marty is graduating next year.”
“How did that happen?”
“I ask myself the same question every day.” She stops at the bottom of the winding staircase in the entryway. “Your dad is upstairs. He said to send you up when you arrived.”
“Thanks.” I jog up the steps to the third floor, where Ricardo’s home office is located. When I get to the door, it’s open wide, so I knock before stepping inside, finding him seated behind his huge oak desk. When I was growing up, I remember how intimidating he always seemed when he’d call me in here to talk. It was never to just shoot the shit or check on how I was doing. It was always just so that he could sit behind his big fucking desk and make me feel insignificant.
