Revenge
Chapter 45
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trisha sat at the front window of her apartment as the sun came up, spreading a bright light across her face. She held her cup of coffee in her hands, trying to warm up. For some reason, she just couldn't stay warm during the night. She also couldn't sleep. She dozed on and off for a couple of hours, but when frustration over that took hold, she threw off her covers and decided she would just get up. She puttered around her apartment a little, cleaning here and there - nothing too much.
She was dusting off her bookshelf when she came across some old photo albums. Pulling the albums off the shelf, she spent the next couple of hours flipping through them. Now one of the books lay on the table in front of her. She looked down at it again and smiled at the two pages in front of her. It was at her high school graduation, the pictures taken by her best friend, Marcie, and she smiled at the faces looking back at her - her brother, his wife and her two nieces. On the other page was a blown-up picture of her with her brother. The look of pride in his eyes made her smile even more - despite the tears that rolled down her cheek. She glanced over at the other album and tentatively opened the front cover. The newspaper clipping of the accident scene was almost more than she could bear. He'd never been the same after that - he was cold, distant and living in his own little world. Jail had changed him too. Although, she had to admit that the only good thing to come from it all was that he'd stopped drinking. For years she'd begged him to stop, but he'd only wave her off and tell her that it was meant to be - in his genes. After all, look at what his father - her stepfather - had done. She flipped the page of the album and looked at the last picture she'd had of him. He looked totally different after the reconstructive surgery on his face from the accident. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and was thrown through the windshield. His doctors had asked for pictures of him before the accident so that they could try to put his face back together as close as possible to how he looked before, but he told them that he didn't want to be the man he was before. He wanted to start all over and that they should use their imagination. The only hint of the man he truly was showed in his eyes - the pain evident forever.
///////////////////////////////
She thought back to that terrible day. She'd come home from work and had flipped on her television just for some background noise when she heard the announcer saying..., "Police say Mr. Peterson was drunk when he slammed into the police cruiser that was involved in a pursuit, lights and siren on. The two vehicles careened together across the road and jumped the curb, sliding across the grass and coming to rest in the middle of the playground."
Trisha had just finished getting a juice out of the refrigerator when she turned to see the horrible scene being shown on the television. Apparently, it was all just unfolding. The camera scanned the scene and closed in on the two crumpled cars. She saw the civilian vehicle and walked closer to her television set to get a better look. She watched as the medics and police officers moved about the scene frantically. The camera showed the ambulances pulling away and she heard the announcers voice again....
"Once again, you are looking at live footage from a breaking news story. There has been a terrible accident involving two cars - one of them a police car - that slammed into a playground where several children were playing. Witnesses on the scene say that there were at least three people - two children and someone believed to be a parent or caretaker of the children - struck while on the playground. The two officers from the wrecked police car have been taken to the hospital with some injuries, as well as the driver of the other vehicle - a Mr. Paul Richard Peterson - who witnesses say appears to have suffered more serious injuries. We will update this story as details become available and hopefully have a full story for our 6:00 broadcast. We now return you to previously scheduled programming."
Trisha remembered turning off the television and rushing out the door to go to her brother at the hospital. That was the last she'd seen of her real brother - all those years ago.
///////////////////////////////////////////
She was startled from her memories by the sound of the phone ringing. She jumped at the sound, almost dropping her coffee. She glanced at the clock and realized that it was almost 9:30 in the morning. She grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" she said, the sadness of her memories in her voice.
"Trisha? Hey, are you okay?" Bosco asked her from the other end.
"Maurice? What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly realizing that she'd told him she'd be there first thing in the morning.
"I'm fine. I was worried about you. I figured you'd be here by now. You okay? I mean after what Faith told me last night, I was afraid that...," he trailed off.
"No, no. I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night," she answered, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm just getting ready to go out the door. I'll be there as quick as I can. Did you get some rest last night? How're you feeling?"
"I'm doing great. In fact, the doctor was in this morning and I may be able to go home tomorrow," he told her.
"That soon?" she asked.
"What? You don't want me to come home?" he asked her, fending hurt.
"No, it's not that. I just know you and you won't rest properly at home and you shouldn't be staying by yourself. I'll bring you here so I can nurse you back to health," she told him.
"Hmmm. My own, personal nurse. I kinda like the sound of that," he said to her. "Do I get sponge baths too?"
"I'll have to see what we can arrange, Mr. Boscorelli. I guess it all depends on how you behave yourself," she teased back. "Look, if I'm going to get over there, I have to get moving," she said, laughing. She marveled at how just the sound of his voice and thought of spending time with him made her smile.
"Okay. But, hurry. And don't forget my coffee, woman!" he ordered her.
"Yes, Mr. Boscorelli. Anything you want, Mr. Boscorelli," she answered. "See you in a few," she said before hanging up.
She quickly put on a pot of coffee and headed down the hall to grab a quick shower and get dressed, the photo albums left on the table. She ignored the sick feeling in her stomach and blamed her fatigue on her inability to sleep during the night. "I'll catch up when Maurice is home and on the mend," she told herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...
Chapter 45
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trisha sat at the front window of her apartment as the sun came up, spreading a bright light across her face. She held her cup of coffee in her hands, trying to warm up. For some reason, she just couldn't stay warm during the night. She also couldn't sleep. She dozed on and off for a couple of hours, but when frustration over that took hold, she threw off her covers and decided she would just get up. She puttered around her apartment a little, cleaning here and there - nothing too much.
She was dusting off her bookshelf when she came across some old photo albums. Pulling the albums off the shelf, she spent the next couple of hours flipping through them. Now one of the books lay on the table in front of her. She looked down at it again and smiled at the two pages in front of her. It was at her high school graduation, the pictures taken by her best friend, Marcie, and she smiled at the faces looking back at her - her brother, his wife and her two nieces. On the other page was a blown-up picture of her with her brother. The look of pride in his eyes made her smile even more - despite the tears that rolled down her cheek. She glanced over at the other album and tentatively opened the front cover. The newspaper clipping of the accident scene was almost more than she could bear. He'd never been the same after that - he was cold, distant and living in his own little world. Jail had changed him too. Although, she had to admit that the only good thing to come from it all was that he'd stopped drinking. For years she'd begged him to stop, but he'd only wave her off and tell her that it was meant to be - in his genes. After all, look at what his father - her stepfather - had done. She flipped the page of the album and looked at the last picture she'd had of him. He looked totally different after the reconstructive surgery on his face from the accident. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and was thrown through the windshield. His doctors had asked for pictures of him before the accident so that they could try to put his face back together as close as possible to how he looked before, but he told them that he didn't want to be the man he was before. He wanted to start all over and that they should use their imagination. The only hint of the man he truly was showed in his eyes - the pain evident forever.
///////////////////////////////
She thought back to that terrible day. She'd come home from work and had flipped on her television just for some background noise when she heard the announcer saying..., "Police say Mr. Peterson was drunk when he slammed into the police cruiser that was involved in a pursuit, lights and siren on. The two vehicles careened together across the road and jumped the curb, sliding across the grass and coming to rest in the middle of the playground."
Trisha had just finished getting a juice out of the refrigerator when she turned to see the horrible scene being shown on the television. Apparently, it was all just unfolding. The camera scanned the scene and closed in on the two crumpled cars. She saw the civilian vehicle and walked closer to her television set to get a better look. She watched as the medics and police officers moved about the scene frantically. The camera showed the ambulances pulling away and she heard the announcers voice again....
"Once again, you are looking at live footage from a breaking news story. There has been a terrible accident involving two cars - one of them a police car - that slammed into a playground where several children were playing. Witnesses on the scene say that there were at least three people - two children and someone believed to be a parent or caretaker of the children - struck while on the playground. The two officers from the wrecked police car have been taken to the hospital with some injuries, as well as the driver of the other vehicle - a Mr. Paul Richard Peterson - who witnesses say appears to have suffered more serious injuries. We will update this story as details become available and hopefully have a full story for our 6:00 broadcast. We now return you to previously scheduled programming."
Trisha remembered turning off the television and rushing out the door to go to her brother at the hospital. That was the last she'd seen of her real brother - all those years ago.
///////////////////////////////////////////
She was startled from her memories by the sound of the phone ringing. She jumped at the sound, almost dropping her coffee. She glanced at the clock and realized that it was almost 9:30 in the morning. She grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" she said, the sadness of her memories in her voice.
"Trisha? Hey, are you okay?" Bosco asked her from the other end.
"Maurice? What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly realizing that she'd told him she'd be there first thing in the morning.
"I'm fine. I was worried about you. I figured you'd be here by now. You okay? I mean after what Faith told me last night, I was afraid that...," he trailed off.
"No, no. I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night," she answered, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm just getting ready to go out the door. I'll be there as quick as I can. Did you get some rest last night? How're you feeling?"
"I'm doing great. In fact, the doctor was in this morning and I may be able to go home tomorrow," he told her.
"That soon?" she asked.
"What? You don't want me to come home?" he asked her, fending hurt.
"No, it's not that. I just know you and you won't rest properly at home and you shouldn't be staying by yourself. I'll bring you here so I can nurse you back to health," she told him.
"Hmmm. My own, personal nurse. I kinda like the sound of that," he said to her. "Do I get sponge baths too?"
"I'll have to see what we can arrange, Mr. Boscorelli. I guess it all depends on how you behave yourself," she teased back. "Look, if I'm going to get over there, I have to get moving," she said, laughing. She marveled at how just the sound of his voice and thought of spending time with him made her smile.
"Okay. But, hurry. And don't forget my coffee, woman!" he ordered her.
"Yes, Mr. Boscorelli. Anything you want, Mr. Boscorelli," she answered. "See you in a few," she said before hanging up.
She quickly put on a pot of coffee and headed down the hall to grab a quick shower and get dressed, the photo albums left on the table. She ignored the sick feeling in her stomach and blamed her fatigue on her inability to sleep during the night. "I'll catch up when Maurice is home and on the mend," she told herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...