Their second visit of the day to Annie was even worse than the first. She was still sleepy from the sedation and had sunk into a depression. She just sat in her bed and cried and hardly talked. Their father cried when he saw her and tried to tell her, in a broken voice, that everything would be all right. He told her she could stay with him, and her sisters would take care of her, which only made her cry more.
“I'm not even going to have a life. I'll never have a boyfriend again. I won't get married. I can't live alone. I can't paint. I'll never see another sunset or a movie. I won't know what any of you look like. I can't comb my own hair.” As she went down the list of all the things she could no longer do, it ripped out their hearts.
“There are a lot of things you still can do,” Sabrina reminded her. “Maybe you can't paint, but you can teach.”
“How am I going to teach? I couldn't see what I was talking about. You can't teach art history if you can't see the art.”
“I'll bet you could, and lots of blind people get married. Your life isn't over, Annie. It's just different. It's not the end of everything. It's a change.”
“That's easy for you to say. My life is over, and you know it. How can I go back to Italy like this? I have to live in my father's house, like a child.” She started to sob again.
“That's not true,” Tammy said quietly. “You can live with us for a while, till you get used to it. And eventually you can live on your own. I'm sure most blind people do. You're not retarded, you lost your sight. You can figure it out. There are schools that teach life skills to blind people. After that you can live on your own.”
“No, I can't. And I don't want to go to school. I want to paint.”
“Maybe you can do sculpture,” Tammy suggested, as Sabrina gave her a thumbs-up from the other side of the bed. She hadn't thought of that herself.
“I'm not a sculptor. I'm a painter.”
“Maybe you can learn. Give yourself time to figure this out.”
“My life is over,” Annie said miserably, and then cried like a child, as their father wiped his eyes. It occurred to Sabrina then that they might have to get tough with her, and force her to make efforts that she wouldn't make otherwise. Tammy was thinking the same thing. If Annie was going to feel sorry for herself, and refuse to cooperate, she would have to be pushed. But it was way too soon to tell. She had just found out, and everything was still horrifying and new.
They stayed with her until dinnertime, and then much as they hated to do it, they had to leave. They were all exhausted, and she needed to rest. They had been with her most of the day, and promised to come back in the morning, which they did.
Sunday was more of the same, if anything it was worse than the day before, as the reality sank in. It was what she had to go through, in order to accept what had happened to her. They left her at six o'clock. It was Tammy's last night. She still had to pack, and she wanted to spend some time with their father. Chris had promised to make lasagne, and he was going back to New York that night.
Tammy kissed Annie as she lay in bed, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see them. Her eyes were still a vibrant green, but they were useless to her now.
“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.”
“I have better things to do,” he growled. But the trouble was, he didn't. He had absolutely nothing to do without his wife. She had taken care of everything for him, organized their social life, planned everything. She had kept life interesting for him, with trips into the city for symphony, theater, and ballet. None of his children could imagine him doing any of that for himself. He had been totally pampered by her. And as a result had become dependent on her.