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“Hi. How’s my mother? Does she have a concussion?”
She pursed her lips. “A mild one and she doesn’t have any broken bones. The way the paramedics described it, they suspected her chair broke most of her fall.”
“Thank god.” I breathed a deep sigh of relief and wiped the sweat that had formed on my brow. “Can I take her home tonight?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m afraid not.”
“Do you need to watch her overnight?”
“Yes, but that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid your mother’s kidneys are severely damaged. We’re hoping she will make it through the night…” She continued speaking, but I had a hard time following the rest. Hoping she’ll make it through the night. What was she saying?
“I don’t understand. Is my mother not going to make it?”
“We don’t know for sure. There are some tests we can run and perhaps some medication we could try, but it would just be for the short term. Your mother needs a transplant immediately.”
The world fell from underneath my feet and I stumbled forward. I had no way of getting the money for a transplant immediately. I thought I had a couple of years before that was necessary. My insurance would cover her hospital stay for now. I would worry about the money for the transplant later. “Please. Do what you have to do to keep her alive.”
She nodded. “We’ll keep you posted.” Then returned to the automated doors behind her.
I somehow reached the armchair in the waiting room, not remembering the steps I took to get there. I felt as though I were watching a movie or living in a dream. This couldn’t be happening to my mother. I couldn’t lose her.
I gasped at the pain in my chest and clutched the top of my sweater.
What am I going to do?
24
Luke
It’d been nearly a week since I’d last spoken to Grace. But not an hour went by without
thinking about her. One minute I hoped she’d call, the next I debated whether to call her. She had said things that had really stung. The truth in her words hurt. She was right. I didn’t have any serious responsibilities or career goals like her. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe I should stay away before I fucked something else up. She deserved a better version of me. I wouldn’t call her until I got my shit together.
Later that night, I went to Mario’s Restaurant for dinner. Looking around the dark empty room, I realized I could help him if I committed to it. I proposed a remodeling and rebranding plan to him. He’d shied away at first, explaining he didn’t have the funds to do that.
“Do you like the ideas?” I asked him, sitting at one of the brown leather booths.
He smoothed down his mustache. “Of course, I do. I just can’t afford them.”
“Sell a portion of the business to me and I’ll provide the capital.”
His gaze shot to mine, his eyes searching for any joke. But I wasn’t kidding. I had a new business venture in mind and Mario’s Restaurant would be the first project.
Five days later, the plan was coming together. The company that helped remodel my home jumped on board with my plan and ripped out all the old dark wood furniture and carpet.
As I circled the room, I took in the new white paint on the walls, the new patio doors that used to be small windows at the front, and even a new wall, closing the kitchen off from the dining room. Mario’s daughter Victoria helped me choose the fresh new fabrics for the benches and chairs, which were to arrive soon. It felt like one of those remodeling TV shows where everything changed in a week. With the capital and the Crawford name, it wasn’t surprising how quickly this all came about.
“I can’t believe this is the same place I stood in only a week ago,” said Mario, surveying the room. “I can’t believe this is Mario’s Restaurant.”
“Well, about that,” I said. “Remember our rebranding conversation? I think we should change the name, too.”
“Oh.”
His face blank, I explained my reasons. “I understand your family is from Naples. You speak so proudly of it when talking about growing up there. So, what do you think of the name Taste of Naples?”
