I stayed with Lou as late as the hospital would allow visitors — which amounted to about two more hours.
I wanted to stay the night at the hospital, but Lou insisted that I go get some rest at Steve’s. By this time, I’d been feeling torn for so long that I decided I should just go with it.
I knew I needed some rest — it had been an exhausting day. I wasn’t eager to go back to Steve’s house on my own, but when I dropped off my things, the nanny was very welcoming, and I think she even said she would tidy up the guest room for me. (It was already pretty clean, and as Lou said, it was very, very white!)
Lou was so weak, but he seemed to be comfortable.
They had him hooked up to this pump that was flushing his prostate with a constant wash of saline solution. Before I left, the nurse said she would be coming in every so often to change out the fluid bag for a fresh one. This flush technique was supposed to help heal the trauma caused by the cauterizing. Lou was going to need to stay in the hospital for a few extra days so they could continue to flush the area, but the nurse assured me the doctor would give me more information in the morning.
Lou’s doctor did his rounds very early every morning, so the nurse suggested that I arrive at the hospital no later than 6:30 a.m. so I’d be able to talk to the doctor when he started his rounds at 7:00. She suspected Lou would be the first patient the doctor checked on — apparently, Lou’s case was pretty much the talk of the hospital that day.
I can only imagine…
Remarkably, I remembered where I parked the fancy Mercedes in the hospital parking lot — it was still raining when I arrived, and everything is so busy in Miami that it made my head spin. I was incredibly relieved that all of the floodwaters had receded as I was facing the drive back to Paola and Steve’s. My nerves were shot, and I needed an easy drive home.
It felt pretty strange to be driving a car that didn’t belong to me, let alone one that belonged to someone I’d never met. But it was a fully loaded sports car, so I took advantage of the high-end stereo and listened to some music on my way back to Steve and Paola’s house. Every radio-preset button was set to a Latin music station, but I finally found a station that played American pop music. I’m really not a big fan of Top 40, but it was nice to have something with a beat to help me
Earlier, the nanny told me (in her very poor English) to park in the circle drive, and then she gave me a key to the front door. She even showed me how to use the key — I remember this vividly because she said the rain would sometimes make the lock stick. I wasn’t sure what time I would be home, but I was sure it would be late, and the nanny seemed positive this door would be the best way for me to enter without disturbing the baby.
I followed the nanny’s instructions and parked the car where I was told. Then, I hoisted my tired body out of the car, and trudged up the front steps. My only goal was to silently slip into the house, and go directly to the guest room. So I carefully slid the key into the lock, and I heard it click. Whew. The lock didn’t stick. So I pressed the door latch, and then slowly opened the door.
Suddenly, lights started flashing and alarms started blaring!
It sounded just like a military compound had been breeched! And there I was. Frozen in my tracks like a guilty intruder, trying to figure out what to do! But the alarms were so loud, and a floodlight near the front door was literally blinding me.
The nanny suddenly appeared through a blurry halo of light. She had a horrified look on her face. She mashed a few buttons on a keypad on the wall, and after a few tries, things were suddenly quiet. The floodlight was still blasting me, but just having the noise off felt like a merciful blessing. But with the sound off, I could hear a baby whaling. Ugh.
The nanny was too flustered to help me; the baby clearly needed her more. But before she ran off, I could tell she felt terrible for me. She said something to me in Spanish over her shoulder, but I couldn’t even guess what she meant.
I felt unnerved, and uncertain, but I decided to step into the entryway and shut the front door. I just remember feeling stunned — like I’d been punched in the face, and I was still trying to regain my senses. I felt completely disoriented and full of adrenaline. I couldn’t decide what to do — should I wait for the nanny to return, or should I try to find the guest room?
I was just starting to make a move in the direction of the guest room when a very tall woman wearing a hot pink silk robe made her way toward me. As my focus cleared, I immediately realized it was Paola. She was absolutely stunning.
She looked like South Beach Barbie in a kimono.
I instantly felt like an ugly wallflower. When I woke up that morning in Dallas, I had no idea that I was going to find myself on an airplane, headed for Miami, and that my day would be comprised of a whirling mix of events that would leave me wasted and empty. It was one of my worst moments, and here I’d woken up the mistress of the house, and disturbed her well-prescribed beauty rest.
But as she made her way toward me, she looked like she felt sorry for me; so I softened. I tried to apologize for setting off her alarm, and she seemed to dismiss my worries with a flip of her hand. Her English was better than the nanny’s, but her thick accent made her sound exotic and glamorous. She told me not to worry, and she asked me how Lou was doing. I told her I’d know more in the morning, but I thought the surgery was successful.
She motioned for me to follow her in the kitchen so I did.
I could hardly take my eyes off of this woman. Lou was right when he said that she was a “strange beauty.” But even though it was obvious that she had “added” a few details to her look, the whole of her was truly captivating.
She offered me a cup of tea, and so I accepted. Her fingers were long and elegant, and she seemed slow and easy as she moved around her very white kitchen. She told me that Steve had recently ended up in the hospital with a very serious illness, too, and she knew how scared I must feel. She said that she had just had the baby when this happened, and they hadn’t found a good nanny at that time, so she was very torn all of the time between her baby and her husband.
Paola chatted easily with me, but I don’t remember saying much to her because I think I was a bit spellbound. I was so grateful for her kindness and understanding — although I got the feeling that she might not always be so kind. I guess I got that impression when the nanny came back into the kitchen, and Paola started speaking to her in Spanish. Her staccato words were harsh, and the nanny seemed to bristle with shame. She must be getting the blame for my alarming entry. I felt horrible…
I kept trying to make eye contact with the nanny to send her a silent apology, but she was very busy looking down and cleaning up the tea service.
When I finally made my way to the guest room, I felt the last of my will for the day slip out of my lungs with a long sigh. Too many things had rattled me in such a short period of time that I felt certain I’d struggle to fall asleep. But sleep was easy that night.
