Sisters

“I'm leaving in the morning,” Tammy reminded her, “but I want you to kick some ass while I'm gone. I'll come back for a visit, maybe on Labor Day weekend, and by then I want to see you doing lots of stuff on your own. Is that a deal?”

“No.” Her younger sister glowered at her, but for the first time she looked mad instead of sad. “And I'm never going to comb my hair again.” She sounded five years old, and they all smiled. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable lying there in bed. Sabrina had brushed her coppery hair, and it shone. The nurses had washed it for her.

“Well, in that case,” Tammy said practically, “I guess you're right. You won't find a husband or a boyfriend, if you stop combing your hair. I hope you plan to bathe.”

“No, I won't,” Annie said, sitting in bed with her arms crossed, and they all laughed. In spite of herself, Annie did too, for just an instant at least. “This isn't funny,” she said, starting to cry again.

“I know it's not, baby,” Tammy said as she kissed her. “It's not funny at all. But maybe all together we can make it a little bit more okay. We all love you so much.”

“I know,” Annie said, sinking into her pillow. “I don't know how to do this. It's so scary.” Tears were streaming from her eyes.

“It won't be after a while,” Tammy reassured her. “You can get used to anything, if you have to. You have the whole family behind you,” she said, with tears in her own eyes.

“I don't have Mom,” Annie said sadly, as two big tears rolled down her cheeks, and her father turned away.

“No, you don't,” Tammy conceded, “but you have us, and we love you with all our hearts. I'll call you from L.A., and you better tell me some good stuff. If Sabrina tells me you're smelly, I'll come back and give you a bath myself, with my loofah that you hate.” Annie laughed again. “So be a good girl. Don't be a big pain in the ass.” It was what she used to tell her when they were kids. They were only three years apart, and Annie had been a pest when Tammy thought she was nearly grown up. Annie had squealed on her a million times, especially about boys. And Tammy had actually threatened more than once to beat her up, but never had.

“I love you, Tammy,” Annie said sadly. “Call me.”

“You know I will.” She gave her one last kiss and walked out of the room. The others kissed her, and left too. Sabrina said that she and Candy would be back the next day, but not before the afternoon. She didn't tell Annie, but she was going to see the house in New York the next morning. She was leaving for the city at the same time Tammy left for the airport, at eight o'clock. Sabrina was taking Candy with her too, so if they liked it, they could make a decision on the spot.

They all tried to come up with ideas for Annie that night over dinner. There was no question, she had to go to a special school for the blind. She was right, there were so many things she couldn't do now. She had to learn them all, and how to deal with them without sight—filling a bathtub, making toast, combing her hair.

“She has to see a shrink,” Sabrina insisted. She had called the psychiatrist and left a message on her voice mail. “And I thought your sculpture idea was great,” she said to Tammy.

“If she's willing. That's going to be the key. Right now she feels like her life is over. And it is, as she knew it. She has to make the transition to a new life. That's not so easy to do, even at her age.”

“It's not so easy at mine either,” their father said sadly, helping himself to the excellent lasagne that Chris had made. “By the way, I think you should give up law and become a handyman and cook.” Chris had been worth his weight in gold for the past week, being helpful in a thousand ways. “You can have a job here anytime you like.”

“I'll keep it in mind, if I get tired of class-action suits.”

But their father's comment made them all realize that his adjustment was going to be hard too. He had been married for nearly thirty-five years, and now he was alone. He wasn't used to taking care of himself. He had relied on his wife for more than half his life, and he was going to be lost without her. He couldn't even cook. Sabrina made a mental note to ask the housekeeper to start leaving him meals he could reheat in the microwave, once they were gone.

“Every widow and divorcée in the neighborhood is going to start knocking on your door,” Tammy warned him. “You're going to be a hot commodity around town, and in great demand.”

“I'm not interested,” he said glumly. “I love your mother. I don't want anyone else.” He hated the idea.

“No, but they'll be interested in you.”