Broken Sky

by Saurav Dutt

  “I didn’t ask for this..” Andie sighed as she pulled out a chair and slumped down, staring into the plate before her “you know how sometimes you rehearse moments like this, and I have believe me… sometimes I’d be fearful, other times mad as hell..right now I don’t know if I even care, it’s a stranger in my house upstairs.”

  “You don’t want answers?” John asked, sitting down opposite her, fiddling with the fork beside him.

  “What answers are those?” Andie scoffed “she’s a vegetable now ain’t she? I could ask her why she broke my heart for hours until the sun goes down and she probably couldn’t even give me a straight answer.”

  Before John could reply the doorbell rang, Andie stood up to answer it but was intercepted by a buoyant Peter who had rushed down the stairs. Yanking it open he looked up at Ben, unimpressed by his beaming smile. “Hey there sport” he grinned as he stepped inside, a solitary rose tucked under his arm as he greeted Andie with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey there” John greeted him with a stiff handshake “my name’s Detective Cassini and I-”

  “-You’re the one who’s turned Andie’s life upside down” Ben smirked as he handed the rose over to her.

  “Ben, please” she flushed, returning to her seat at the table, placing the rose against a bookshelf beside the drinks cabinet.

  “Well it’s a long story” John explained as he offered a cigarette “and to be frank with you, Andie here is really the best judge of what to make of it.”

  “Yeah” Ben replied, ignoring the show of courtesy “except that she’s learnt to get on just fine without her mother up to this point, and from what I gather with the woman, she wasn’t no walk in the park even when she wasn’t bat shit crazy”

  “Ben..” Andie strummed her fingers across the table cloth “I’d rather you not get into this right now..it doesn’t concern you.” she sighed.

  Peter lumbered back up the stairs, his eyes turned towards the room furthest down the corridor; the room which up until several days ago housed only unpacked cardboard boxes jammed to the top with items from their Long Island home. All he had known was that it was inhabited by a woman his mother refused to talk about, to acknowledge, to attend to. He had seen the nurse enter the room numerous times, even flashed a smile up at her but had never received anything remotely resembling a response. He had not dared to enter the room after his mother expressly had forbidden it; but right here right now he couldn’t care less what she had ordered.

  The closer he drew to the door the clearer he could discern stifled grumbles from within, beating against strained coughs and sharp breaths. He placed his face against the door and heard the low drone of a female voice whispering and muttering. Turning his head over his shoulder to see if he was being watched, he pushed his small hand against the door, realising it was firmly shut. He pushed again, stopping himself to gently knock instead. There was a slight pause from within as the whispers ceased, the mutterings became subdued and the ensuing silence made him want to run towards his room in fear. Just before he could turn on his heels the voice from within grumbled ‘Come in…’

  Peter took a deep breath as he pushed against the door with both his hands. The hinges creaked open and he leant his head in. A solitary candle burnt in the corner of the room, casting its warm tawny glow against the wall and the single bed aside it. The sheets were drawn up and a bedside table was littered with bottles of medication and several glasses of water. A woman laid there, her face staring up at the ceiling. The room was musty, a suffocated dampness sunken in the atmosphere within its four walls. He wanted to leave; stepping backwards he paused in his tracks as she muttered again “What made you come in this time?”

  “My Mom told me not to M’am..” Peter replied, leaning back towards the wall, one hand stuck in his pocket and the other curled around the frame of the door in case a hasty exit was needed. The figure in the bed did not move, yet he could discern her piercing glare through the darkness.

  “Please..please stay…has your Mom said anything about me?” she replied, her words chosen carefully and deliberately as she narrowed her eyes to get a better look at her grandson.

  “She told me” Peter paused “not to come into this room, she didn’t say anything…just that you’re unwell, sick..”

  “Your Mom was right” she replied “people are telling me all sorts of stuff too…, I just have to accept it…what’s your name again?”

  “It’s Peter…my Mom calls me Petey..” came the reply as she tilted her face against the pillow to get a better look at him.

  “And what can I call you?” she smiled.

  “I dunno…” Peter shrugged as he inhaled “…I haven’t seen you before…”

  “Let’s just say…I’m here because of your Mom..” she sighed, pushing up her knees to her chest as she slid upwards until she leant against the head rail of the bed. Now she could see him clearly; the blank stare, the inquisitive eyes, the high forehead and arched eyebrows made him appear just as Andie did at the same age.

  “I know your Dad too…” she explained “..but the doctors tell me I’m not well Petey..I mean…I have a problem remembering things, because I was hurt, hurt very badly..”

  “Who hurt you?” Peter asked, edging closer until he could now see her face clearly. It was shorn of makeup, a bandage fastened across her forehead with her eyes sunken deep into their sockets. Bruising littered her face and her eyes were glazed over. “I don’t know..” she smiled “…I was hurt and injured by some bad people, things are coming back to me slowly, remembering things… you’re Andie’s son aren’t you Petey?”

  “Uh huh..” Peter mumbled, staring down at the ground as he moved slightly back. “Please..” she protested, motioning for him to stay “I haven’t spoken to anybody except doctors and nurses and my friend John…Petey, what did your Mom ever tell you about your grandmother?”

  “She…” Peter paused as he noticed her gaze was now fixed upon him, unwavering and inquisitive “she..told me she went away before I was born..”

  “Went away?” she asked as her fingers stroked the surface of the bandage, caressing her own hair “Gone away somewhere or she died?”

  “I dunno” Peter grumbled “why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “I would” she smiled, admiring his quick tongue “but she hasn’t been up to see me since I’ve been here..what do you know about tonight?”

  “To stay in my room..” Peter sulked, shuffling uncertainly on the spot.

  “You don’t like that do you?” she whispered, her words unsettling him “well I’d like you to come to dinner Petey…so you have my permission to come downstairs whenever you want..I want you to eat with us, with me.”

  “My Mom wouldn’t like that” Peter shot back, turning to yank open the door.

  “But I want you to” she smiled, dropping her legs off the bed in order to stand up. Half way through the aborted attempt she noticed Peter had scurried away, the hinges of the door creaking as it wavered in his wake. She then heard loud distinct footsteps ascending the stairs, stopping outside her door. She knew it was John.

  “How ya doin’?” he smiled as he leant into the room, the smile dissipating the moment he realised she was not resting.

  “It’s okay..” she replied “..I feel a lot better…a lot better..I was just trying to stretch my legs”

  “I saw Peter, Andie’s son, run down the hallway to his room..” John paused “..were you talking to him?”

  “Uh huh..” she sighed as she realised her feet felt like lead balloons the moment she tried to one above the other.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Y’know” she mused “she looks just like Andie did around that age..I’m sure of it.”

  “I don’t know if I should be here, isn’t this just between you guys…” John shook his head “..I’ve been in some situations, and I still don’t know who to believe..you’re here because you
need rest, because somewhere in that head of yours you wanted to find your daughter the whole time…now you know that it’s a real possibility you will walk down there, sit at that dinner table and the two of you will know nothing about each other…worst of all, she may hate your guts even more than she does already.”

  “She hates me?” she blinked “…well maybe I deserve that.”

  “From what I can see so far” John replied “she’s her mother’s daughter..”

  “All I know is..” she breathed in “..I don’t know what you expect of me, trying to talk to a daughter I’m sure I can’t even recognise..who hates my guts.”

  “Did you tell her son who you are?” John hesitated “I’m guessing it’s for his sake that she hasn’t thrown you out the house…that and the fact I’m sure deep down she cares for you, whether she wants to admit it or not.”

  “I don’t know if I would forgive me…am I gonna get my suitcases back..” she asked, fidgeting with the bed sheets “it might sound stupid to you, but those things..those things kept me going.”

  “You know what was in those precious suitcases of yours” John smirked “money..lots and lots of money..and drugs..and pictures, that’s what you carried around with you…that’s what Gina Rossi represented to the world…”

  “I’m about as good a liar as you are a Detective..” she winked.

  “Very funny” John scratched his chin “now you ready to come downstairs?”

  “I don’t see the point…it’s all a bit…..” she trailed off.

  “What you talking about?” John scoffed “this is what you’ve gone through hell and back to see..to see whether this works after all this time…now’s not the time to get cold feet.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden” she blinked “everything is so mixed up right now, I don’t know what I’m thinking, don’t know what I’m gonna say..” she added with a defiant sigh.

  “You won’t know until you try now will you” John replied with a smile “and anyway, I’m gonna hazard a guess that those two suitcases you dragged on your ass all the way here weren’t for exercise..you got away from your husband’s people ‘cause you knew you had something to live for.”

  “Don’t tell me” she frowned “that reason is sitting there downstairs for me..how romantic…honey that stuff is left for Sinatra to sing about…you and me we deal with real life, huh?”

  “I knew it when I met her” John shook his head “you’re both as stubborn as each other…”

  “Well let me try to make it a little clearer for you…I didn’t come here to be hated” she muttered to herself as she stared down at the floor.

  “But you did come anyway..” John nodded “..and I didn’t come up here to shoot the breeze, feed you pills and tell you bedtime stories…I came to bring you to dinner..”

  She looked up at him wearily, swallowing hard as she felt a chill race up her spine. John leant forward carefully and wrapped a light grey cardigan around her shoulders as he helped her to her feet. He looked into her eyes and saw both of them glazed over; her face pale and as she gingerly stepped across the room, she noticed her reflection in the mirror. Immediately caught by the sallow appearance of her face she stopped right in her tracks.

  “What is it?” John asked, clutching onto her arm.

  “I’ll be damned if I go down looking like this” she scowled.

  “You’ve been living rough for what, almost half a year?” John scoffed “now’s not the time to be giving a shit about your appearance, well is it?”

  “I’m not an invalid” she replied as she yanked her arm away from him “I can walk by myself.”

  “Yeah sure, but the doctor…” John began before she cut him off again “-the nurse said I can get about myself.” she smiled.

  “Right” John sighed “and I suppose she told you that you don’t have something wrong with your head either.”

  “I don’t give a shit..” she hissed.

  “Yeah you do” John shot back with a fierce glare.

  “Nobody asked you to care for me… nobody…” she murmured as she stepped towards the door.

  “Still the same Gina Rossi to me..” John shook his head as he smiled to himself “…a few bruises on the head don’t change the habits of a lifetime.”

  “I told you…I didn’t come here to be hated” she replied “but I’m not six feet under yet, if I’m going to see my daughter I won’t do it holding onto you like a damn Zimmer frame..”

  “Maybe we should just forget about this..” John sighed reaching out his arm only for it to be swatted away by hers.

  “I’m here to have dinner with my daughter and my grandson” she asserted, straightening her back as the bright light of the corridor shone in her face “now are you my date or my nurse Mr?”

  Before John could answer she had already begun to descend the staircase, one foot heaving down ahead of the other as the stairs creaked under their weight. The smell of pasta sauce and garlic permeated through the air, spreading up into her nostrils and immediately percolated through every memory she had stored in her head. She saw Peter standing there at the bottom of the stairs staring up at her, transfixed by her glare. The closer she approached, the more she imagined him to be Andie at that age; the memory was clear, vital and etched indelibly in her mind.

  “Peter..” Andie’s voice called out from within the drawing room “what did I tell you about going to sleep?”

  “I don’t want to” he blurted back as her hand gently caressed his cheek. Before Andie could reply she paused as she saw the figure standing at the doorway. Short in stature, a haunted expression across her face mingled with an abject glimmer of humility, Andie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman staring back at her. Andie couldn’t discern if she was nervous, drugged up or high. Either way she could barely recognise the woman, even with the tinting of a few years around the face.

  “How…” she paused “how…ya doing?” she added as she bit down on her lip. She studied Andie’s emotionless face as the silence lingered. Somewhere under the sullen visage of her unblinking eyes and taut expression lay a face that had hung in every thought and image she had been able to distinguish for the past eight years. She saw the face of the smiling teenager, the crowed expression of the sullen adolescent she had cradled and who she had fought with more times than she could care to remember. Now she saw a grown woman she could barely discern to be the same daughter.

  “Hey..” Andie murmured as she felt her heart shudder “it’s been a long time….”

  “She’s nervous…” John interrupted “..I mean, understandably…she’s pretty doped up but you shoulda heard her, nothing was gonna stop her from having dinner tonight; the nurse, the doctor, nobody was telling her what to do.”

  “Gina…” Andie smiled “her name is Gina Rossi right, or has she forgotten that too?”

  She momentarily ignored Andie and turned towards Ben, leering at her, stumbling over his own incoherent words as he attempted to extend his arm for a friendly handshake. She smiled weakly as she extended hers, immediately disgusted by the lingering stench of his cologne. His bald, flabby bulldog cheeks made her wince as she noticed the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, revealing his hairy chest.

  “Who are you?” she demanded as she let his hand drop from her grasp. “I’m…” Ben chuckled as he tripped over his words “well..I’m…your daughter’s…well her boyfriend I guess..yeah her boyfriend..it’s nice to meet you.”

  She ignored him, turning to Andie again as her lips parted with a smile. “I thought you were married…” she murmured as John gently guided her towards her seat at the table. “Technically I still am..” Andie answered as she nodded for Ben to take his seat “you might remember Sean…he was..well he is your son-in-law.”

  She stared at Andie then down at her plate. Turning her eye towards the door she noticed Peter’s head curled around the corner of the frame, straining to hear the mutterings of the adults some ten feet from him. “And that’s my grandson there a
in’t it..” she smiled towards him “I wish I could have met him a lot earlier..”

  “Well” Andie shrugged as she stood upright, scooping spoonfuls of salad onto both John and Ben’s plates “I guess that’s what we’re all here for tonight, right? Talking about things that could have been done a lot earlier..”

  “Um..with respect” John interrupted, meeting Andie’s gaze “you have no idea what it’s like to be part of the witness protection programme, you’re dead to the world..you sever all ties just to protect your anonymity, no matter how much you hate the idea..if you do it, then you have to be dead to those closest to you..and so it turns out nobody really is safe in it anyway, considering the scum bags your old man sent out.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand” Andie replied as she took a stiff gulp of wine “..I mean what is there to explain, she didn’t take me…that’s all I know. To be honest I don’t know what anybody hopes to gain from this…I started a new life, I have a new life that I’ve learnt to live without her…I don’t see what there is to gain..what questions am I supposed to ask her? Get an apology? It’s like talking to a goddamn..” she trailed off as she stared across the table forlornly.

  “I think my grandson wants to eat” she murmured, sucking in a deep breath “does anybody object to having Petey eat at the table?”

  John smiled as he beckoned Peter to sit beside him. He stopped in his tracks, looking up at his mother and noting the slow, almost mechanical way she shook her head at him. “Peter, go upstairs, I won’t ask you again” Andie snapped, taking another sip of the glass. As a sour expression fell over his face Peter turned and abruptly slipped out of the room; the loud patter of his feet racing up the stairs as the other’s faces glared into the emptiness of their plates. All except for one.

  “Y’know the one thing I really remember, I mean really distinctly remember, above all else…” she cleared her throat “was never liking people tellin’ me what to do, that feeling of getting bullied. You learn that sleeping on the streets, people walkin’ all over you like you mean nothing to the universe, looking down at you like you’re a cockroach, spitting on you, trying to use you, abuse ya…”