Page 74 of Better Than Gelato
“Yep. He’s super happy.”
I take out some nail polish and start painting my toes. A nice bright pink for spring.
“Hey is Dad there? Isa ‘accidentally’ spilled red wine all over Sofia’s silk blouse. I’m hoping he has some ideas for getting it out.”
There’s a pause.
“Dad’s not here,” my mom says.
“Where is he?” The shop closed hours ago, and my dad has no life outside of work.
Another pause.
“He’s actually in the hospital.”
My mom does this terrible thing where she shares bad news in her most cheerful voice. She thinks it makes it better, but it doesn’t. All the muscles in my stomach clench, and I carefully screw the lid back on the nail polish bottle.
“Juliet, are you there?”
“What happened?”Was it a heart attack? My grandpa died of a heart attack. Of course he weighed 300 pounds, and my dad barely tops 175.My mind is racing as fast as my heart.
“He’s okay. He fell off the ladder cleaning out the gutters and broke his hip. They’re keeping him overnight, and he has hip replacement surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“He’s spending the night at the hospital?” The thought of him lying in a hospital bed is absurd.
“It’s just for tonight, he should be able to come home tomorrow evening.”
“How long is the recovery?” I ask.
“Dr. Bartlett says he should be walking around in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s not so bad.” My mind tries to process everything.
“But he’ll need four months of physical therapy before he can go back to work.”
My stomach sinks again. “What about the shop?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet. But Dr. Bartlett said Dad can’t stand for that many hours. Or lift anything over thirty pounds.”
I ask my mom a dozen more questions and she does her best to answer. She promises to call me after Dad’s surgery tomorrow.
Over the next twenty-four hours, I research hip replacements online, watch a video on YouTube that makes me want to puke, and call Jake three times with questions.
When my mom finally calls, around 3 a.m. my time, I snatch up my phone on the first ring.
“Mom! What’s the news? How is Dad?”
“Juls, I’m doing great!” My dad’s voice is strong and clear and just hearing it makes me feel a zillion times better.
“Dad! What happened?”
“Everyone thinks this old man lost his balance and fell, but I’m telling you there was a rusty rung on that ladder, and it dropped me like a trapdoor. I’m going to inspect it tomorrow and prove it. If your mom lets me out of bed.”
“How did your surgery go?” I ask.
“Hurt like the dickens. Woke up with a pain in my hip like someone stabbed me with a hot poker dipped in tabasco sauce. I had a private room, but a semi-private gown, if you know what I mean. And they kicked me out of the hospital before the spinal wore off. I peed all over the car seat on the way home.”
“Oh, Dad!” Tears of laughter mix with tears of relief.
