Now that there was better news awaiting me at Metro Medical, I couldn't help but enter the building with a large and silly grin plastered on my face. It had stayed there the entire ride there, too. Gina wouldn't stop laughing.
"You and your dad are so…I don't know," she couldn't finish her sentence on account of her laughter. "I'm sorry."
"We're all each other has, Gina," I said. "Ever hear of lovebirds?"
"I think so. They're not around anymore, I know that. What about them?" she had stopped laughing.
"Well, according to myth, if you buy a lovebird, you have to buy another one or else the first one will be so lonely it will die of a broken heart."
"First off, how'd you find out about this? Second, what does this have to do with anything?"
"I read it in a book awhile ago. And, if Daddy died I'd probably die myself of a broken heart. I'm just happy he's alive and well. And asking for me."
"No kidding he's been asking for you. You should be handcuffed to him."
"I bet he hates hospitals," I said, more to myself than to Gina. "He's been in and out of them almost his whole life. Especially since my mom…"
"You still think about her?"
"Of course," I said. "She's my mother. I might not have known her personally but I knew her for nine months and that's special. There's no stronger bond than that of a woman and her unborn child."
"That's sweet," Gina said, with a soft but true smile breaking out on her lips.
"Listen, would you be offended if I dropped you off at your house? I don't think they'll let me bring you with me."
"No. Besides, I shouldn't be there anyway. This is sort of a private matter between you and your dad."
When I pulled up in front of Gina's building, we gave each other a friendly kiss on the cheek and she squeezed my hand.
"Hope everything goes smoothly and tell your dad I said get well soon!" Gina said as she got out of the car.
"I will," I promised and drove off.
The waiting room in which I had lingered with Aunt Cindy only the night before had a more pleasant disposition. My smile wouldn't fade, even when I encountered a scowling receptionist who sourly reprimanded me for asking to see Daddy.
"That patient needs his rest. Immediate family only."
"Logan Cale is my father. I'm his daughter Maxine."
"Do you have ID?"
"ID?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out my driver's license. "Right here. It says on top, Maxine Guevara Cale. Care to take a DNA sample?"
The receptionist glared at me and pointed in the direction where Daddy was. "Room 712-D Floor 4."
Childishly skipping, I made my way down the corridor to the elevator. Nothing could break my spirit now.
I rode the elevator to the fourth floor and went to room 712-D, where a redheaded nurse was just leaving.
"Oh, hello," she said, smiling. "Are you here to see Mr. Cale?"
"Yes," I returned her grin. "I'm his daughter."
"Oh! You're Maxine!" the nurse shook my hand. "He won't stop talking about you."
I felt myself blush. Daddy loved to brag about me.
"I'm Meinka," she said. "I'm your father's nurse. He's become a fast favorite among the nurses, I must say. He's always got a smile, it seems. I shouldn't keep you two apart for long—he's been waiting to see you." Meinka winked and hurried off.
Beaming, I stepped into Daddy's hospital room. He was sitting up in bed with his glasses on.
"Maxine," he exclaimed when he saw me. "Come over here and give your sick old daddy a hug."
I went over to his hospital bed and wrapped my arms around Daddy in a warm embrace. He felt thinner than I'd last hugged him, but I was sure it was my imagination.
He's only been comatose for a day and a half, silly child, I chided myself.
Daddy stroked my cheek and tugged on a curl before I sat in a chair next to his bed. He sighed deeply and laced his fingers together.
"I'm fifty-nine, Maxine, and almost perfectly healthy and all of a sudden I get struck down. Fifty-nine years of living to the fullest and what do I get?"
"Another fifty-nine," I said firmly. "Having anemia isn't everything, Daddy, and it's only a slight case. As long as you're careful about what you do from now on…"
"I know, I know. I went through all this with the doctor already, kitten."
"I'm just glad you're better," I said. "How did you fall out of your wheelchair, anyway?"
Daddy winced, "Oh yeah. I was looking for something I wrote a long time ago…a journal I had kept…in it, I wrote some poems about Max."
"You wrote poetry for Mom? That's so sweet," I gushed. "Can you remember any of them?"
Daddy's eyes swung up towards the ceiling as if he was trying to remember. Then, slowly, he started to recite, "Forever eyes. Dark. Somebody's angel…that's all I recall. She tore it out of the journal and took it home with her and told me she kept it with her always and read it almost every night to herself."
"That's so romantic."
"I guess so. Maxine, I was so embarrassed when she asked to read the poem, I turned bright red."
I laughed, "I can picture that…where is it?"
"The journal? It's somewhere on a shelf in a closet or something. I haven't written in it for at least…well, almost twenty years. I was trying to reach a box and I slipped and fell out of my wheelchair. I hit my head, got all dizzy…that's the last thing I remember. Anyway, I wanted you to have it."
"Why? You should keep writing in it."
"Like I said, I haven't in almost twenty years. Not since Max died. I thought you'd like to have it because it would be a nice thing to have with you when you're all the way in California."
"What does it look like?" I asked softly. "I'll find it for you when I get home."
"It's brown leather, with a sketch on the cover."
"Okay," I said. "I'll got hunt it down."
"I'm sorry I gave you such a scare, kitten," Daddy apologized, tugging a curl.
"Don't be," I insisted, holding his hand. "It's true, I was scared I was going to loose you but I prayed for a miracle…and I got one."
"I prayed for a miracle, once upon a time," Daddy said, almost whispering it as if revealing a secret. "And I got mine, too."
"What was it?" I leaned closer and spoke in a low voice, like Daddy did.
"You were born. My little Earth angel, my baby Maxine," he kissed my forehead. "Our miracle right from the beginning."
"I couldn't have been very lucky," I responded. "Mom…she di—"
"You didn't kill her," Daddy assured me. "That wasn't your fault. It was fate."
"Fate's not fair." A fugitive tear trickled down my cheek.
Daddy wiped the tear away. "Fate brought your mother and I together. If anything, Fate is a friend of mine."
