Mary and her parents looked over as a nurse bustled into the room, her smile bright despite the late hour.
“Party’s over!” she said, cheerily. “I cut you a break, but it’s time to go.”
Mary frowned. “Too bad Frank didn’t get here in time.”
“It’s fine.” Judy waved her off. “Thanks for coming.”
“Your need to rest, Miss Carrier.” The nurse took a blood pressure cuff from a plastic basket affixed to the wall. “I have meds for you, too.”
Mary gave Judy’s arm a quick pat. “You gonna be okay, all by yourself?”
“Yep.” Judy looked up, her blue eyes washed-out. “How about you, without Anthony?”
“Sure.” Mary managed a smile as her parents took turns kissing Judy.
“My, my.” The nurse laughed, wrapping the black cuff around her upper arm. “You got any face left?”
“See you, honey.” Mary picked up her purse and waited for her parents, who trundled out of the room, their faces falling as if they’d checked their trouble at the door. She slipped an arm around her mother, and they walked past the nurses’ station.
“Poor Jud,” her mother said softly, and her father shuffled behind, alone.
Mary couldn’t remember the last time her parents hadn’t walked together, and they went down the elevator as a somber threesome, the triangle of their family reconfigured. Nobody said a word as they left the hospital, where Mary hurried them past the reporters, shielded them from the videocameras, and shouted a steady stream of “no comments.” She hailed a cab, stuffed them inside, and got in. The cabbie took off, and Mary gave him their address, which was when her mother finally spoke.
“Maria, stay home, tonight. Stay home.”
“Sure, Ma,” Mary answered. She knew her mother was hurting, but she couldn’t see her expression in the dark. They passed under a street lamp, and it flashed like a strobe light, exposing rather than illuminating them.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and Mary listened to the raindrops thunder on the roof of the cab. Fog clouded the windows, walling them inside. They reached South Philly, crawling through the rainswept streets, and she didn’t bother to check her BlackBerry. Anthony hadn’t written, called, or texted. They were really over.
The cab pulled up in front of the row house with the D on its screen door, where her father opened his wallet, and her mother let out a tiny sigh.
“Home sweet home,” said the cabbie.