The Gathering by Bernadette Giacomazzo

Author:Bernadette Giacomazzo [Giacomazzo, Bernadette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-25T22:00:00+00:00

I don’t know how I fell asleep in the hospital – I guess I was there longer than I thought – but I awoke, suddenly, when I heard a mewling sound. For a second, I thought I was back in our apartment on Ludlow Street – the one I shared with Angelique, the one where I began painting the sun room in a soft powdered blue on the day Angelique came home with a pissed-on pregnancy test that had the same color in the indicator window – and that one of the alley cats had perched itself by the window, hoping for some scraps of food.

Inevitably, Angelique or I would get up and leave some milk, some bacon bits, or some leftover dinner for the cadging cat – that was the way we’d done things in the old New York, after all; if one of us ate, we all ate, and no one ever went to bed hungry, not even the alley cats – but it was only when I heard Rosie’s voice that I realized I was still in Mount Sinai with Angelique and Jordan.

When I was fully awake, just a moment later, I realized that, while Angelique and Jordan were passed out cold – and Jordan was snoring like a freight train, to boot – Rosie was singing, in Spanish, to Evanora.

“Niña,” she whispered and sang, “Si tu no crees que te he dicho la verdad, pregunta a Dios y el si que te dirá, que para mi serás mi niña…” Her voice trailed off as Evanora’s mewling softened and her breathing steadied.

I stood up and walked over to the bed. “Rosie,” I whispered, “everything alright?”

Rosie looked up at me and smiled serenely. “Yeah, Jamie, everything’s fine. Evanora here just got a little afraid with her daddy’s snoring” – she nodded her head towards Jordan, whose feet were perched high in the air as the rest of his wiry, gangly frame dangled over a chair that looked rather uncomfortable, and of course, he was still snoring loudly – “and I thought I’d put her back to sleep.”

I couldn’t help but smile just as serenely at Rosie. Her entire presence was calming – I now understood why Jordan loved her so much, and why he needed her in his life. “What were you singing to her?” I asked.

Rosie kissed the top of Evanora’s head before covering it with a tiny white cradle cap and putting her back in the clear, hospital-regulation bassinette. “If you do not think I told you the truth, ask God and He will tell you the same – that for me, you will always be my baby girl,” she said, softly. “It’s from a song by Jose Feliciano, one of the greatest Puerto Rican musicians ever.”

“I’ve never been to Puerto Rico,” I said, apropos of nothing, “I’d like to go one day.”

“You should,” she said. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I want to take Evanora when she’s old enough – me, her, and Jordan – so she can meet my family.

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