by Box Set
Her father came over to her. “The nurse said it might be a few hours before we can see her. I don’t know why we have to wait.”
His moods of his were so unpredictable, but with Griffin next to her, she wasn’t as nervous around him as usual.
“I know, Papa. The doctors told me this was just a precaution and that they think she’ll be home real soon. Sit. You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” His volume increased. “Why is everyone so concerned about me? It’s your mother who is having the problems.” He stormed back over to the nurses’ station, taking the seat nearest the door, his temper contained for now.
Griffin sat in silence until her father settled across the room. “He’s fine, but you may need to call a taxi for him to go home.”
Her father the drunk. She’d hid her family’s issues for years and now the one man she’d wanted to impress was sitting in the middle of her own personal soap opera.
“I appreciate the company, but don’t you have criminals to arrest or diners to raid?” she asked.
“I’ve had my diner quota for the day, thanks.” He turned his head toward her father and lowered his voice. “I’d love to know about the 911 call.”
“What about it?”
“I haven’t heard it, but the dispatcher sent me to the house because the woman on the line sounded threatened before the call cut off. I’m assuming the caller was you, since it originated from your cell phone.”
She nodded. “It was no big deal. My mother felt dizzy and had a hard time breathing. I called 911 and dropped my phone before the call finished.”
“Really?” His brows arched, obviously doubting her story.
“Really. Who cares what happened on the call? Mama made it to the hospital and hopefully will be okay.”
“Your father is drunk.” It wasn’t an accusation. It was fact.
“Is that a crime?” He didn’t harm her on most nights. Tonight had to be scary for him with Mama sick, that was why he’d overreacted and almost punched her.
Griffin shook his head. “No. It isn’t, but threatening you could be.”
“No one threatened me. I dropped the phone.”
“Are you going home tonight?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” she lied. She didn’t want to be near her father while her mother was at the hospital.
He glanced at her backpack. “Where are you going to stay?”
“Is that an invitation?” She managed to put on the smile she wore at the diner, keeping her feelings behind a facade of happiness.
“If you have no other place to go, yes. And that offer is as a friend, not official police business.”
“I’ll be fine.” And her father would skin her alive if she stayed at a guy’s house.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
“Sergeant. I didn’t kill myself for the promotion to have you not notice.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
“How about I splurge for some coffee while you wait?”
“Working on your hospitality badge?”
Griffin laughed, and those delicious dimples that took off twenty points from her IQ appeared. “I really need a caffeine boost to make it through the rest of my shift. Want some?”
“Fine. I’ll have some coffee.”
“And a cup for your father?”
She nodded. Anything to help him sober up would be appreciated. “Thank you.”
Griffin winked at her and then disappeared into the elevator.
The automatic doors to the operating rooms opened up a few minutes later. A young doctor in greenish scrubs and a lab coat called out her name. He looked like one of those doctors on a television show, with long, slow strides and an understated smile. He was everything she wanted to be for a career.
Medical school was her dream, but a very long-term goal. At the rate she was finishing her bachelor’s degree, she’d be entering medical school at age sixty.
Her father appeared, more subdued than at the house when he was cursing her very existence, but refused to acknowledge Trinity.
“Hi. I’m Doctor Lamont.” The doctor shook her father’s hand and nodded to her. “Your wife seems to be out of the fire, but we’d like to keep her in the hospital to monitor her status. I’ve set her up for an angioplasty in two days. This will help us see if she has any coronary blockages.”
“How much will all this cost?” her father asked. “Can’t we take her home and return her in the morning?”
“Papa, she needs care. We’re leaving her here.”
“I don’t usually recommend longer stays in the hospital, but in your wife’s case, she’s been through a lot and would benefit from continued monitoring until we have the results of the test,” the doctor said.
Papa’s frown made his lips pucker together as though he’d had a bad empanada. He ignored the doctor and looked directly at Trinity. “You’ll need more hours at the diner to cover everything.”
She didn’t answer him. Her father was more worried about losing the house than losing his own wife. Trinity could never understand how he could be so short sighted. Without the best care possible, her mother could die.
The doctor now spoke only to her, probably because her father was being completely irrational and reeked of beer. “When she gets set up in a room, you can visit here there. Maybe in a half hour?”
“That would be fine. Thank you.”
He disappeared back inside the emergency room, and Trinity sat down as her father paced back and forth, weaving a curvy line through the waiting room until the instability in his legs made him sit.
Griffin reappeared carrying three cups of coffee. “Black or with cream?”
“Cream please,” she answered. She never drank coffee in front of the customers so he had no idea how she’d take it.
He handed her the drink in his right hand.
“Sir?” Griffin offered him a cup.
“I don’t need anything.” Her father stood again at the presence of Griffin, but his limbs were losing the battle with gravity and too much alcohol. Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep and snoring on the chair.
“You worked tonight?” Griffin asked Trinity.
“Double shift.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s not so bad. I can relax there.”
“Are you okay at home?” His concern annoyed her. They’d always interacted in the cocoon of the diner. A perfect place where home issues were always left at the door. Once he realized that her persona at work hid a disaster of a life, would they be able to continue the camaraderie they’d shared in the past?
“Fine. I need to be there. My father takes care of her during the day, and I take over when I get home. She’d sacrificed so much for me when I was younger that it would be selfish to leave her.”
A dark cloud crossed his expression. He rubbed his temples and frowned. “Won’t Medicaid pay for her placement?”
“That’s not an option. Mother gets so lost when she’s not at home and angry, too. I want her be happy, and she’s happy at home.” She shrugged. “Papa’s not capable of providing all of her care, so I offered to help. As long as she’s there, so am I.” It was her mother after all, how could she not help her after all she’d done for Trinity over the years.
Griffin sighed. “I still don’t understand why you hung up on 911.”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“When there’s yelling in the background of a call, and then a hang up, that usually indicates a fight, not panic. If your father is too difficult to live with, I can help you out.”
No, he couldn’t. If she left, her mother’s care would fall apart. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to her. “I’m a big girl, Sergeant. I can take care of myself.”
“I have your back, just remember that.”
“I will, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you at Indigo tomorrow.”
Chapter 2
&nbs
p; After leaving the hospital, Griffin spent a few hours at the station looking over paperwork. He barely slept when he returned home. All he could think about was Trinity. He’d never seen her in anything but a good mood at the diner. How had she hid her fatigue and family troubles from him? Probably the same way he had when his father was beating his mother. Smile and bear it. Only Griffin had left his hell. Trinity was sticking it out as long as her mother needed her. Maybe a visit to Mr. Estrada would let him know she had someone looking out for her. On the other hand, in many Latino families, the mere hint of a relationship between a daughter and any male would bring down the wrath of God on the woman, whether an adult or not. Trinity had enough issues with her family, she didn’t need to be defending a relationship he wasn’t positive she wanted.
The next morning, he went for a run and then headed back to the hospital. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, he arrived as a civilian looking to visit a friend. Mrs. Estrada had stabilized over night and was placed in a double room. Several family members of the other patient sat around watching television and visiting at the first bed. Flowers filled the space with sweet smells.
Mrs. Estrada’s bed hid behind a blue cotton curtain drawn to provide at least some privacy between the patients.
He cleared his throat, and called out her name. “Mrs. Estrada? It’s Sergeant Alexander. I met you last night.” Although she probably wouldn’t recognize him.
“Come in.” The voice was Trinity’s.
The eyes of the other occupants of the room followed him as he went behind the curtain. Mrs. Estrada’s table, empty of anything but a plastic water pitcher and a glass appeared spartan compared to her neighbor’s table that was in full bloom.
Mrs. Estrada seemed even more fragile than the night before. Perhaps fifty years old? She appeared much older. Maybe it was the hospital gown and the IV in her arm. She straightened herself without actually picking herself off the bed. The head of the bed was lifted so she could watch television and drink the water beside her. Her first glance at Griffin shot a flash of red across her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her hair, smoothing it and brushing the loose strands behind her ear.
Trinity, sitting on a recliner in the same clothes, stretched and twisted her body side to side and then lifted her arms over her head and yawned. Her hair had fallen partway out of the ponytail, and she brushed a few loose strands back behind her ear as her mother had done a moment earlier. “Good morning. What are you here for?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.” He directed the statement at Mrs. Estrada, but hoped Trinity would respond as well. He needed to know that she was doing well.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Estrada turned to Trinity without waiting for a response. “Where’s my husband? I need to go home.” Her brows creased and her agitation and confusion at his presence made him wish he hadn’t come.
“Papa went home last night. Remember? He said he’d be back today.”
“Make sure he comes back. I don’t like it here. And dear, tell the nurse I need some tea.” The tone was one of employer to employee, not mother to daughter. Mrs. Estrada must have thought her daughter was a healthcare worker, not her flesh and blood.
Trinity nodded wearing a very tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back.” She walked out of the room.
Griffin shouldn’t pry, but this was Trinity, and he wanted to know more about her family since all she’d ever spoke about at the diner were her classes and work. He stood next to the bed and waited for Mrs. Estrada to acknowledge him.
She finally made a face and stared at him as though he were there to attack her.
Griffin sat down. His height was intimidating to a lot of people. “Trinity seems nice.”
“Who?” Mrs. Estrada asked.
“The woman who just left the room.”
A soft smile replaced the scowl aimed at him. “She helps me out whenever I need her. The best of the best.”
“I agree.”
How could Trinity go day in and day out with a father who was a drunk and mother who didn’t know her name? Perhaps that was why she worked so often at the diner. They were like a second family there.
When she returned with a cup of tea, she placed it next to her mother, but remained standing.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Estrada went back to a television program.
“Want a cup of coffee? I’m buying,” Trinity said. “I need to make up for last night.”
The curtain had shifted, and one of the visitors to the patient in the next bed, an elderly woman with a nosy disposition stared at Trinity, waiting for her answer. If they both stayed, their conversation would be closely monitored by this busy body.
“Sure.” He stood.
“Mama, I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Take your time. The nurses can handle everything right now.”
Trinity nodded toward her mother, part acceptance, part annoyance, before walking into the hall. Griffin followed.
Once in the hall, she seemed more relaxed. “She has Alzheimer’s and hasn’t known me for the past year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be. Things could be worse. I’ve seen people with the disease who become belligerent and their personalities warp into something completely different from their past selves. In Mama’s case, she’s still sweet and understanding and enjoys her old movies. I just need to get her home where she’s more comfortable.”
“True. You seem to be a wonderful companion for her.”
“I love her so much. I could never abandon her.”
Her statement cut deep. He always regretted, leaving his own mother years ago. Yet, he couldn’t let that alter his relationship with Trinity. It had been a different time, a different situation. The pain, however, would always linger, along with the what-ifs and the black hole in his life which could only be filled by a brother who refused to speak with him.
They purchased coffee in the Starbucks in the all glass lobby of the hospital and found a small table near an indoor garden.
“Where did you stay last night?” Griffin asked.
“The staff was nice enough to let me stay with my mother.”
“You slept on the chair?”
“It reclines.”
“That’s insane.”
“Are you done lecturing me? I don’t recall handing over my decision making to you last night.”
“Sorry. It just doesn’t seem too comfortable.”
She shrugged. “It’ll do for now. How long could she be hospitalized? A day or two? We’ll be back home before you know it.”
“Before you shoot me down and hand me a lecture on your personal right to make stupid decisions, I need to know why you hung up during the call to 911 last night. The real reason.”
She stared at him, daggers and other implements of destruction beaming straight at him. “It was a tense situation. My father and I disagree about the use of hospitals when Mama’s sick. We have crappy insurance. The worst available. He doesn’t think we can afford decent care, so he pushes to make her as comfortable as possible at home.”
“Did he try to stop you from calling 911?”
“Can’t you just enjoy a cup of coffee with a friend?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re a friend that I care about the answer.” Most cases he handled he tried to keep a certain professional distance from the victims and their families. Trinity was different. He couldn’t help caring about her. More each second he remained in her company.
“It’s not Papa’s fault. He’s been drinking a lot lately. When he worked, he didn’t drink as much because it affected his ability to get to the garage. He was a mechanic for thirty years. One of the best. When Mama became sick, he stayed home to care for her.”
“Caregivers shouldn’t drink to excess. Ever.”
Something in the lid of her coffee tore her attention away from the conversation. She remained silent for a moment. When she looked up, she shrugged. “Being in the house all the time has change
d him. The minute I arrive home, he heads out to meet his friends at the bar down the block. He stays there most nights.”
“Has he ever hurt either you or your mother?”
She turned away again. This time to look out the window with a view of a parking garage and a few newly planted maple trees. “Not physically. Not for a long time.”
Her admission shifted the floor right out from under him. “Not for a long time? When was the last time?”
“It wasn’t abuse if that’s what you’re thinking.” She sounded as though she believed her words.
With every ounce of control he could muster, he asked, “What happened?”
She gripped the coffee cup with both hands. “I came in late one night. He was pretty drunk. We argued, and he pushed me. Nothing big. And it hasn’t happened again.”
Griffin remained silent and merely acknowledged her words with a subtle nod. She wasn’t going home to an abusive father. Not if he could help it.
***
The hours after Griffin left, Trinity tried to remember what made her tell him her darkest secret, that her father was not only a loud angry man, but he also became physical when they disagreed. His abuse wasn’t that huge. He only struck her when he drank and not that often. Some people received broken arms from their parents. She only had to hide bruises maybe once a month. And she’d never seen him hurt her mother. Instead, he acted tender toward her. When Mama became ill, her father’s spirit died. It was as though they’d spent their lives planning for a future that had never arrived. Their plans to move south to Florida someday, their plans to see Trinity wed, and their dream of a retirement never materialized.