Page 10 of Waiting Game

Andreas shook his head again, but a sly smile crept onto his face anyway, and I knew that I had won.

I scribbled down his temp on my notepad, and leaned over to strap his arm into the blood pressure cuff.

“Valerie Santino?” he asked, reading the I.D tag that swung from my pocket.

“That’s me,” I smiled, wheeling the machine closer to me.

“You’re not the Don Santino’s daughter are you?” he asked.

My jaw dropped slightly at the mention of it.

I blinked, busying myself by writing down the numbers that flashed onto the screen.

“You knew him?” I asked, trying to keep the tension from my voice.

“Knew?” he frowned at me, “has he passed?”

I nodded, “a few years ago now.”

“Oh,” Andreas looked down, “I’m so sorry. He was a great man, your father.”

I scoffed before I realised it was inappropriate.

“You did not get along?” he asked, in what I now realised was a faint Italian accent.

“How did you know him?” I changed the subject.

“I worked for him for many years,” he said proudly as he puffed his chest, “it was a great honour. I remember you as only a little girl. He spoke very fondly of you.”

I smiled down at him and removed the cuff, “you’re probably thinking of my other sister, Zarina.”

He shook his head, “no, my dear. It is not my memory that is failing. Only the rest of my body.”

“Well,” I patted his forearm, “let’s get you better!”

“Why did you come all the way over here? Why not work with The Family?” he insisted on continuing the conversation.

“Because I wanted to do good in the world. I wanted to help people, not hurt them,” I said sternly, hoping that he would pick up on my tone.

“My girl,” he shook his head, “even if you do not realise it, your father helped many people.”

“Okay, Andreas. I’ll come and check on you in a little bit, alright?” I smiled, picking up the rest of the charts and leaving the room as quickly as I could.

Of all the days.

Of all the times.

It had to be today.

I exited Andreas’ room, and leaned against the door, closing my eyes.

I didn’t think about my father much, especially since his passing, for my own mental health. I could rack my brain for hours, wondering what I ever did for him to hate me so much, but it was useless.

Now, I would never know.

I took a deep breath before I opened my eyes, and then I saw Pete hovering by the ward’s reception desk, watching me. All I could do was shake my head at him before I headed in the opposite direction and went into the next patient’s room.

It was easy to keep myself busy in my line of work.

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