Page 40 of Twice
“He had a headache. We were out of aspirin. Since I had the car, he decided to walk to the nearest drugstore, which was on a busy boulevard. Along the way, I guess he got something in his shoe and he bent down to get it out.”
“Yeah? And?”
“Someone came speeding around a corner, lost control of the car, and ran into him. Turns out the guy was drunk. After he hit my father, he crashed through the front of a store window.”
“Jesus.”
“It crushed my father’s right leg so badly, they had to amputate it.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No.”
“All because you had the car?”
Alfie shrugged. “Some of the biggest things in life happen over the smallest turns in the day.”
“OK, Socrates.”
“It’s true.”
“And you didn’t know about this until you got to the hospital?”
“They wouldn’t tell me.”
“And when you got there?”
“They took me to his room. He was asleep, on oxygen. His face was all bruised and purplish. His legs were covered by blankets.
“A doctor pulled me aside. He asked if my mother was around, or if I had any sisters or brothers. When I told him no, he said, ‘In that case, you’ll have to be his caregiver.’ Once my father recovered, he said, he was going to need a lot of help, not just physically, but mentally. Getting used to missing a leg would be a big deal. He might feel depressed for a while. Even suicidal.
“When he said that, I felt sick. My father had been through many things in his life, but he was always ready to soldier on. I couldn’t imagine him in despair. I stood over him as he lay in that hospital bed and kept thinking about the times he’d stared at my mother’s photo. He’d already lost so much, you know? To be honest, I didn’t think I could be much help if he were handicapped. I often felt more like a burden to him than a comfort.”
LaPorta shook his head slowly. “I don’t get it,” he said.
“What?” Alfie asked.
“If you really have the power you say, why didn’t you go back and redo the day?”
Alfie looked surprised.
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Of course. I took one last look at him, then time jumped back to Saturday morning. We were having breakfast. Corn flakes and bananas. I remember being so happy to see him shoveling cereal into his mouth that he caught me staring and said ‘What?’ And I said ‘Nothing, Dad.’ And he said ‘Stop gawking.’ And I said ‘OK, Dad.’ But I was still smiling.
“Then he said, ‘What time are you taking the car?’ I thought about Gianna and the zoo and the day I was never going to have. And I said, ‘I’m not going, Dad.’
“And I didn’t.”
LaPorta rubbed his chin.
“So that’s why Gianna didn’t remember anything.”
“Exactly. And only after I jumped back in time did I realize I didn’t have the phone number where she was staying. Just the address. There was no way to call to tell her I wasn’t coming.
“Later that afternoon, after my dad had taken the car to buy his aspirin, Gianna called my house, kind of upset. ‘Where are you?’ she said. I told her I had car issues and didn’t have her number. I was sorry. Could we do it on Sunday? But she said she was heading back to California. She hung up kind of quickly. And that was that.”
