Page 87 of Adrift

She squeezes mine back, and I realize it’s been ages–years, at least–since I’ve felt her hand in mine. She takes a deep breath, seemingly coming to a decision, though her lips still quiver. “Then we won’t.”

I smile, seeing the transformation happening before me. I’m young but not naive. I know these things don’t happen overnight, but if this unfortunate event–my dad’s heart attack–had to be the catalyst for change, then I’m going to grab on to it and hope to hell that it’ll carve a road to a happier future for all of us.

“Will you forgive me, Rani? I’ve said things that have hurt you and I’m . . .” her chin trembles, “I’m ashamed.”

My eyes dart between hers. “Will you give Darian a chance?”

She raises her chin almost defiantly before her shoulders slump. “Yes. I’m not thrilled about the idea of my nineteen-year-old daughter in love with her much older brother-in-law, but I won’t lose her over it, either.”

I pull my mother into my arms and she squeezes me like I’m her life raft. “Then yes, Mom. Let’s start over.”

* * *

The sounds of machines beeping intermingle with my dad’s heavy breathing. He looks at peace, though his skin is still pale and there are deeper dark circles around his eyes than I recalled from a month ago.

Mom, Bella, and I sit on either side of his hospital bed, lost in our own thoughts. My aunt had briefly dropped by to check on us and Dad during her shift, but when Mom forced her to go back to her patients, my aunt promised to come visit tonight when she got off work. Bella’s been at my side since the moment she arrived a little while ago.

The doctors told us the angioplasty was a success, but Dad will be in the hospital for another day so they can monitor him.

My phone vibrates with another text inside my purse. It’s been buzzing non-stop with messages from Melody, Karine, and Darian, whom I’ve kept abreast of the situation. Letting my dad’s hand go, I pull it out.

Darian: I miss you. Badly. I wish your dad a speedy recovery, but I couldn’t help not sending you this message to tell you how much I miss you.

My lips quirk as I read his message a couple of times. Everything happened so fast this morning–from my admission of my feelings for him to my mom’s phone call–and we haven’t had a chance to talk.

I thought a lot about my admission to him on my drive here–second-guessing my unplanned decision. Should I have revealed what I feel so early? Will this change things between us? He never said it back, and though that doesn’t change how I feel for him, can I assume that his smile meant he was genuinely happy about it? Because I’d never seen him smile like that before.

Another thing to add to my list of things I’m in love with–Darian’s smiles.

Dad stirs on his bed, and all three of us sit up straight to watch him. The doctors said he’d wake up on his own, so we’ve been waiting, ready to talk to him again.

“Ramesh?” my mom says, getting up with his hand in hers. She stares down at him as his eyes start to flutter open. My dad squints at her and for the first time, I see my mother run her hand over his forehead in affection. “Hi.”

My dad manages a tiny but exhausted smile before finding me and then Bella. We both get up, looking at him with smiles.

“Hi, Dad.” I squeeze his hand. “You gave us a scare there.”

He smiles again. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” My throat is tight, but I give him a smile back. “It looks like you’ll be off all the good stuff, like barbecue chicken wings and samosas. You can’t take on any more stress, either.”

Bella puts her hand on top of mine and his, giving it a squeeze. “How are you feeling, Uncle Ramesh?”

“A little stiff, but the pain medication seems to be working.” He takes a breath and I can tell he’s struggling to talk much. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost five hours,” I answer. “I got here not too long ago.”

He studies me wearily. “How’s my grandson?”

I smile, recalling the message Darian sent me earlier this morning telling me Arman was feeling much better. “He’s good. He’s so incredibly sweet and smart.”

“I want to see him.” Dad looks at my mom almost in approval. His expression tells me he’s worried about her reaction, but then it changes to confusion when she smiles at him.

“Why don’t you get healthy first, then we can figure out a time for us to see him in person,” my mom supplies.

My dad’s frown deepens. I’m sure he’s thinking he’s woken up in a parallel universe where his wife is kind and freely gives him smiles and affection.

I decide to clarify to minimize his confusion. The man just woke up from surgery, and the last thing he needs is something else to be stressed about. “Dad, Mom and I had a long chat while you were in surgery.” I regard my mom across my dad’s bed. “I think we’re both ready to move forward together and leave some of our past hurts behind.”

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