My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 32

32

THE NURSES GOT DAD STABILIZED and sedated while the four of us waited down the hall. Mom, Martha, me, and Winston. I had a thousand questions running through my mind, but for the first time in my life, I felt whole. And for the first time ever I felt a closeness to Dad. He said I was perfect. I broke down and wept like a grief-stricken mother mourning the death of her child. My God! I was Charlie's son. Why hadn't someone told me? Quivering uncontrollably, I sat there in front of the three of them and bawled. They cried, too. Even Winston.

It felt so good, so liberating—like I'd been used my whole life to mop the floor and someone had finally rinsed me clean and wrung me out.

Dad had certainly given me a lot to think about. He may technically be my uncle, but on that day he was my dad. And all at once, I wanted him to live. For the first time I understood him and wanted to know the rest of the story. I wanted more time with him.

Mom took Martha home, but I hung around the waiting room until a nurse reminded me for the third time that he would not be conscious until much later that day.

I went to my office and sat alone speculating on how it could possibly have happened that Uncle Charles was my dad and no one had spoken about it. Ever. I could hardly remember anyone even uttering his name all these years. What had Uncle Charles been like? Who was he? Who am I? Is Martha my sister or my half-sister? I had a lot of questions and I wanted some answers.

Lizzy interrupted my thoughts to tell me that Mrs. Sophia Wadsworth was there to see me. She was my staunchest supporter on the Board of Directors of Thalian Hall and I had a feeling why she might be there. I greeted her warmly in the lobby and escorted her to my office where she refused a seat.

"Mr. Baimbridge, I'll not be long." She lowered her eyes, gripped her pocketbook with both hands, and pursed her lips exposing the lines of her seventy-odd years. "Due to recent developments, the Board has decided to engage another director for Laying Down the Law and requests that you return the scripts and musical scores at your earliest convenience."

I hated hearing it, but it didn't devastate me as much as I'd thought it would. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, Richard."

"Me, too. Thank you, Mrs. Wadsworth."

She pivoted, opened the door, and left. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Opportunities like that come but once in a lifetime. Yet, with all I had going on, I would not have been able to give it my best effort. I'm sure my stepping aside was better for everyone involved. I was in the process of calling the cast members and asking them to contact the theatre concerning the future of the show when Sydney called.

"All you all right?" I asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"I heard some things before you hung up last night that—worried me. I tried to find your number and call you back."

"Good thing you didn't. That would not have been good."

"It sounded like he hit you."

"I'm okay."

"Did he?"

"It's okay. I'm fine."

I drew a deep breath. "Well, be careful."

She was silent a moment, then said, "The reporters seem to think—to me—they seem to think that...you're..."

Her implication knocked the wind out of me. "Guilty?"

There was a short pause before she answered. "I'm just saying that I think that's what they think."

"What do you think?" I asked.