32
Berkeley, Alta Bates Hospital, March 2008
“Ste-ven,” a hoarse whisper.
He looked up from his reading to see his sister struggling to speak.
“Wa-ter,” she whispered.
Tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh my God, Ali, thank God.”
He held a water cup and straw to her mouth. She sipped and worked to swallow.
Steven gave his sister a weak smile.
Her eyes looked toward the water cup.
“More?” he asked.
She gave a tiny nod and took a larger swallow this time.
“Steven.” Al smiled at him. “I’ve had the strangest . . . most vivid dreams. It was like I was reliving . . . a memory.”
“I’m so glad you’re back.” He squeezed her hand; afraid to touch more of her for fear he’d hurt her. “I’ve been so scared.”
She squeezed back and seemed to doze off.
He called his father. “She’s awake. She spoke to me.”
Steven hung up the phone. “Dad’s on his way over.”
Al groaned, muttered something. It sounded like she said, “Steven, it’s so real, maybe I’ve been reliving––it was like I was there.” She nodded off.