Page 6

Brooklyn

CHAPTER SIX

After I woke up, I lost count of the number of questions and tests they put me through.

At least a dozen hospital staff members crowded into the room.

Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the brightness, and I was finally able to take in everything around me. The first person I saw was him.

No one needed to tell me he was the doctor who had been by my side when I woke up—his appearance perfectly matched his voice: powerful and self-assured.

I couldn’t hold his gaze, though I could sense he was watching me the entire time.

Honestly, all I wanted was to be left alone. My head ached, and my mouth was dry.

Of course, my wish wasn’t granted, and by the end of it all, I felt utterly exhausted.

Finally, it's just the two of us.

"I know you’re tired," he said, "but I needed to make sure everything is okay. I can cancel your sister’s visit if you’d like, though."

"Madison is here?" I feel a sudden surge of energy, my exhaustion disappearing like magic.

"No, but she will be if you want her to. I asked her to wait until the tests were finished. In any case, the visit will have to be brief."

"It doesn’t matter. I just need to see her."

He stares at me in silence. The man seems unshakable, like an iceberg. In fact, his eyes looks like pure ice.

"What’s your name? I know you’re my doctor, of course."

"Athanasios Pappakouris. I’m the neurosurgeon responsible for your case."

Is he Greek?

"Dr. Papp?—”

"You can call me Athanasios," he corrects.

"Okay. Athanasios, have you seen my children?"

"Not in person. Your sister doesn’t bring them during her visits, for obvious reasons, but I’ve seen photos."

"Are they okay?"

"The only photo I had access to was from when they were very young. They were babies in your arms still."

My eyes fill with tears as I think about all the time I’ve lost away from them. At the same time, I silently ask God for forgiveness for my ingratitude. I’ve just been given a second chance. I am determined to make the most of it with my family.

"How long will I have to stay in the hospital?"

"That depends on how well you progress. It’s impossible to say. You’ve just come out of a months-long coma, Brooklyn."

"Months?"

"Don’t dwell on that now," he says, glancing at his phone. "I’ve just been informed that your sister is outside and wants to see you. I’ll allow the visit, but I’m going to warn you now—it must be brief. I’m sure you want to recover as quickly as possible, so you’ll need to do your part. Try to control your emotions. I’ll give Madison the same recommendation."

With that, he leaves without another word. I should feel relieved, but I don’t. In a strange and inexplicable way, I feel connected to the doctor—perhaps because he is the one who’s brought me back.

Less than two minutes after he leaves, the door opens again. I blink several times to make sure I'm not imagining it, and at the same time, my throat tightens.

My sister, my life, my baby sister, is here with me, sporting a beautiful baby bump.

Despite Dr. Athanasios’s recommendation, I begin to cry. The headache gets worse and my eyes sting, but I can't stop. "Madison."

"Do you remember me?"

"I remember everything. Thank you for taking care of my kids."

"How did you know I’ve been doing that?"

"I heard you all these months."

"From the beginning?"

"I don’t know when the ‘beginning’ was. I started hearing the conversations after the doctor, Dr. Athanasios, started irritating me."

She was crying too, but now she is laughing as she walks over to hug me. "He was irritating you?"

"He was arguing with me. He called me lazy and said I didn’t want to wake up."

"Jesus, why does that not surprise me? Sounds exactly like something arrogant men like him would do."

She hugs me, and I want to stay like that forever.

"My voice sounds strange. It feels like every word scratches my throat."

"That’s because you went months without speaking. Don’t push yourself. We have all the time in the world. What matters is that you’re back with us."

"All three of you, right? Your bump is beautiful. I know you’re pregnant with twins and that you got married."

"Yes, I’ll tell you all about it later, but Dr. Athanasios told me not to let you get too emotional."

"The doctor, huh? He told me his name was Athanasios."

"Yes, he’s Greek like my Zeus. Bossy by nature."

"I think, in more ways than one, he was the reason I came back. Both by provoking me, which finally made me react, and on the clinical side, I suppose."

"He’s the world’s leading specialist in neurosurgery, Brooklyn."

"How . . . how will we pay him?"

"Shhh . . . don’t worry about that. He’s a friend of my husband’s family, but even so, Zeus was going to cover everything. From the start, though, Dr. Athanasios said he wouldn’t charge anything. This hospital belongs to him and two partners. Now, what I really want, Brooklyn, is for you to focus on getting better."

"I will. I promise. But I want to see my children."

"They won’t be able to come anytime soon."

I swallow the urge to cry again.

Second chance, Brooklyn. Focus on that.

"Do you have pictures of them, at least?"

"I have videos. Eleanor and I have been recording every moment of their growth since you fell into the coma. I’ll show you just one for now, just to ease the longing. Afterward, you can watch as many as you want, but for the first day, it’s too much emotion, sis."

She is crying now as she pulls her phone from her bag.

When she opens the video, it isn’t what I expected. When the tragedy happened, they were only a few months old. Now they are walking.

"Oh my God! They’re perfect!" I say, wiping away tears.

"More than perfect. Now that’s enough, or Dr. Athanasios will never let me visit you again."

"He can try. It’s always been you and me against the world. It always will be, Madison. No one knows who the Foster girls really are."

"Exactly, they don’t know us. We’re unbreakable."

I nod in agreement. "I’ll behave so I can recover quickly. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you all again. I want my life back, Madison."

"You’ll have it, sis. I promise."

The door opens again, and this time, the person who walks in is the only maternal figure we’ve ever known—Eleanor, our stepmother. The saint who stayed with our deceitful father even after he wronged her in every possible way.

"You shouldn’t be crying," she says in her characteristically maternal tone, though she can't hold back her own tears.

"No, we shouldn’t," Madison replies, "but we Foster girls have a rebellious streak."