Beggars for Roses

A Tale of Two Cities - II

Dejected.

That's how I felt as I slipped onto the 
driving seat of my Porsche in the parking 
l

ot. I hadn't been able to get in 
touch with Rosa at all since leaving for 
work. I picked up my cell in frustration. 

This whole week had had an undercurrent 
o

f impatience. Impatience with the short 
stretches of time I could steal with Rosa 
on Skype. The drive to the hospital was 
one of those times but she had not picked up 
when I was coming in today. She must 
have gone to sleep early. I wouldn't be 
able to get in touch with her until 
daybreak tomorrow as Strasbourg was six 
hours ahead of New York time.

                                                              Recalling 
m

y early morning conversation with 
her was my only consolation. That 
time slot had suddenly become a most 
coveted hour and more these past few days. 

I woke up by five today and was live 
w

ith her within minutes. She was fresh and 
ready. We conversed about how our last 
day and night had went. Switching between my 
phone and the laptop, I managed to keep 
our session going as I went around 
the house pursuing my routine. First up 
my special creamy coffee, then shaving, 
fifteen minutes in the gym; finally 
into the kitchen to help out Ma with 
breakfast and lunch preparation.          

                                                                Rosa 
h

ad already become quite good friends with 
Ma, who would be sharing hilarious 
stories about my early life and have
Rosa in stitches in no time. Richie 
had begun to join us here, beaming at 
all the laughter erupting around him, 
occasionally contributing or 
amending an anecdote or two with 
his version. It got embarrassing for
me at times, but hey, it was family.

As I'd get ready to leave, I'd remind 
b

oth my elders to remain in touch with 
Rosa while I was away. It was my 
way of knowing at all times that she was 
okay while I was busy. It was my 
way of making sure she felt loved, wanted, 
not abandoned while I attended to 
my other obligations.

                                           Now, as I 
p

icked up my phone, I willed my apps to have 
at least a message from her. My wish was 
granted.

                  "Read Emily Dickinson to 
m

e when you come." 12 pm Strasbourg time. 

She must have picked up the phone when the nurse 
w