Chapter 2

Chapter 2






            My cab’s breaks squeaked loudly as I pulled up in front of Chaud on East 59th. It was my best friend, Veronica’s favorite happy hour spot, for that week at least.
Inside, I easily spotted her sitting at the bar, effortlessly standing out from the crowd, even for a New Yorker. She was sipping on her drink while pretending to hide behind her dinner plate sunglasses—the kind that celebrities always wear when they fake-hide their face from the public, when really the trademark look only calls more attention to themselves. But, sunglasses or no, she certainly was always able to attract plenty of attention from the men with her long, thick, black hair and Italian good looks.
            I sat down beside her and we exchanged the typical best friend greeting.
“Nice shoes.” She commented with her thick Jersey accent.
“Thanks! Cute purse.”
Air kiss
            I made myself comfortable, by slipping off my coat and setting it on the stool next to me.
I swiveled my head around the room. This was my first time in Chaud, but I could see why she liked the place so much. For one thing, it was crowded, so there was no better spot where she could go to see and be seen. I liked how all the tables, chairs, and even the giant bar was made of a glossy cherry wood. The deep red undertones of the furniture were then complimented by cream-colored curtains and linens. They even played some French music in the background, adding to the overall effect.
Although the lighting was good, it certainly wasn’t bright enough to warrant sunglasses indoors, but this was something Veronica liked to do from time to time, and I had almost given up on teasing her about it.
            After I ordered my drink Veronica leaned in and lowered her voice.
            “So, did you bring the stuff?”
            I had to think a moment about what she was asking. “The stuff? Oh! Yes, I brought ‘the stuff.’ What’s up with the act?”
            “I don’t have an ‘act.” She replied defensively.
            “Ok, my mistake.” I rolled my eyes.
            I knew she was referring the scrapbooking supplies we had met to exchange.  I needed some different stencils, while she needed fabric glue.
            “Did you bring my stuff?” I asked, mimicking her tone.
            “Yeah I brought it, but don’t do it out in the open. This is a nice place. A lot of people know me here.” She glanced over her shoulder.
            “People know you here?” I patronized.
            Veronica crossed her arms and peered at me over her sunglasses. “Yes, people know me here.”
            “I thought you said this place was new. How could you already be known?”
            “They just do, ok?”
            “What people? Where are they? Can I say hi?” I threw my head around, pretending to search for Veronica’s “people.”
            “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.” She grabbed my wrist while fighting back a smile.
            “Do you know that guy over there? Because, he’s cute.” I pointed.
            “Alright. Alright, cut it out.”
            She laughed. We both knew I could always get her flustered when she was trying to play it cool. We had been best friends since college, so I knew better than to buy her haught act.
            Veronica and I both loved to scrapbook. She came from a large Italian family in Jersey, so she was always getting new pictures of her nieces and nephews that she wanted to preserve. So, we both became members of a scrap booking group, called Queens Cutters, that met weekly to exchange creative ideas and put together our scrapbooks. The only thing about Veronica was that she kept her hobby a secret — something I constantly was razzing her about.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I said, “is your company putting on another investment presentation anytime soon?”
“Um, I think they’re working on one for after the new year. Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “You know me. I’m always looking out for new opportunities. That’s all.”
Veronica worked for Watson and Jones as an Investment Banker, and I had to say, she did pretty well for

herself. Ironically enough, her live in boyfriend, Trace was also an Investment Banker but for a rival

company. I knew that the two of them had one of those  passionate “I-love-you-no-I -hate-you”

relationships, and always wondered if their professions had something to do with it. But let’s be honest—it

was probably because Veronica was such a drama queen.
“I swear to God I’m getting out of this city. Ever since the smoking ban, my whole world has completely gone to hell.” She said, fidgeting with her straw. 
“I thought you said you were quitting.”
            “Oh! I almost forgot.” She continued, obviously trying to change the subject. “Are you planning on going to that Science Gala thing this year?”
I curled up my lip. She was referring to the Annual New York Science, Technology and Invention Gala—that’s the official name—which was always held the first Saturday evening in December.  Basically its sole purpose was to not only create the longest acronym in history, but to also send my entire family into a full force competition frenzy—like a school of piranhas over the last existing piece of steak.  It was actually somewhat of a Hightower family tradition. All three of my genius siblings brought a development or invention every year and the media pawned all over them. I had been watching this go on practically since birth.
Ever since my mother noticed that something was unique about her first born, Peter, our lives have been a whirlwind. Basically, she walked in his room one day when he was 3 and much to her astonishment, he was almost finished building a “card house” with 2 decks of cards.
“I almost fell flat on my back when I walked in that room! That’s when I first realized I had a child prodigy.” She was quoted saying in the local news. After a long series of tests, it was confirmed, Peter was in fact a child genius. Math, Engineering, and Physics were his strong suits. He proved that when he was accepted into MIT at age 14. Crazy right? Well, it got worse…I mean, crazier.
My parents then had Stanley, and then Caroline. And what do you know? Three for three—child prodigies. Stanley was also gifted in Math and Physics, while Caroline was strong in Science and Engineering. Stanley and Peter worked at my dad’s company and were executives. Stanley even got called in by the National Security Agency from time to time to assist them with analysis. I didn’t know what he did, but he must be good at it because the President of the United States still sends him a gift every Christmas.
Caroline was a pharmaceutical drug engineer and basically was creating and researching cures for all kinds of diseases. They say she was just on the brink of creating a cure for Alzheimer’s, and one day soon, would surely win the Nobel Prize in Medicine. Pretty good for a twenty eight year old with a husband and two kids. Too bad she worked insane hours and hardly got to see them.
So, I suppose my family thought they were on a roll when they decided to have me. But, when I still couldn’t tie my shoes at age 5, they threw Velcro on my feet and concluded that I was just going to be like all the other snotty little kids in the world. Average.
Obviously, it was strange growing up feeling like I was the lowest common denominator of the most influential family in North America, but I had gotten over most of my feelings of inadequacy. Really I had. Well, a few at least. This is why I avoided uncomfortable events like the Science and Technology Gala. I had never presented anything but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like.
“The Gala? Eh, I wasn’t planning on it. Why?” I twisted a piece of my windblown hair around my finger.
“Because my firm has asked me to attend.”
“Why?”
Veronica shrugged her shoulder under her Louis Vuitton, which she refused to allow out of her sight after an almost-mugging incident last month.
“It’s sort of as a PR thing.” She answered. “You should really think about going this year. It could be fun.”
I considered it for a moment. “Maybe.” I replied.
As we sat and chatted over the next hour, for some reason my mind kept going back to what Veronica had said about the Gala. I hadn’t been to one in a few years, maybe it was time for me to give it another chance. Speaking of which, I was supposed to meet Caroline at her house for dinner that evening. She was actually one the Board of Trustees for the Gala. I glanced down at my watch.
“Shit! It’s almost seven. I’m late.”
“Uh oh.” Veronica teased, raising one of her perfectly tweezed eye brows. “Don’t you dare keep Caroline waiting. Who knows what she’ll do.”
            “Exactly, which is why I have to run.” I replied. Caroline and her family worked around a very strict schedule of her own design.  Every single event throughout their day was planned down to the quarter hour. I knew this because she kept not only her own, but each member of her family’s schedule posted on a wall in the kitchen. Because of her long work hours, dinner time was always promptly at 7:15 every single evening—five minutes after she walked through the door and thirty minutes after her husband, Steven’s 6:45 Pilates.
            “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar, waved good bye to Veronica, turned and headed out the door.
            Traffic was extra bad, so I decided the quickest way to get to Caroline’s would be to walk. It was eight blocks away, so if I hurried, I might be able to make it just shy of 7:15.
            I scurried down the sidewalk with my handbag bouncing up and down on my hip. Although there was a cool October breeze, my body quickly grew hot under my coat, but I didn’t want to take the time to stop and remove it.
            I rounded the corner onto 66th street and checked my watch: 7:16. Whew! Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that I was a couple of minutes behind The Schedule.
            I jogged up the stone steps to their Upper East Side townhome and rang the bell. Immediately, as

though she were waiting right next to the entrance, their long time maid, Viki, whipped open the door. I

jumped back in surprise.
            Her eyes were wide and red. It looked as though she had been crying.
            “Viki…”
            Her hands were waving wildly in the air and she was holding a cordless phone in one of them. “Miss Janie! I’ve been trying to call you!”
            My mind began to race. Did something happen to Caroline? Or her kids?
            “Your father…” Viki grabbed my hands.
            My breath caught in my throat. “Wha-what about my father?” I managed to sputter. My sweaty body suddenly fell cold.
            “Your family is at the hospital. Your father…he…he had a stroke. I’m so sorry. You must go! Here.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and stuffed it into my hands.
            I can’t remember if anything more was said before I turned around and ran back down the steps and in the direction of the hospital.
            Traffic was at a standstill, and I was in a panic so I sprinted the entire way. The piece of paper Viki had given me contained the name and address of the hospital along with the words: Intensive Care Unit. My heart sank as my eyes ran down the page.
A stroke? I had just seen him a week ago, at the party. He seemed a little tired, but…I didn’t realize it could have been anything so serious.
            I wasn’t crying yet. I wasn’t sure why. I cried over the stupidest things all the time: movies…work…men. It was disturbing that when something truly devastating happened, it was as though I had moved to a point beyond tears, into a completely different mindset. Perhaps it was pure panic or survival, even though I wasn’t the one who’s trying to survive here.
            Fifteen minutes later, I was dashing through the New York Presbyterian Hospital on 70th. Immediately the smell of rubbing alcohol and latex pushed a wave of nausea over my body. It was a strange feeling. Hospitals had never had that kind of effect on me before.
There was hardly even an ounce of blood in my face, and my lips were numb, but not so much to where I couldn’t feel the cold hospital air rushing past them with every breath I gulped. I had only known one person who’s had a stroke, and that was my Great Aunt Milly down south. I was eight and I remembered that it was as though she had gone from being a sixty year old to a young child overnight. I shivered thinking about how the left side of her face drooped over her bones. Her mouth no longer looked like a mouth, slumped over, sad and lifeless. Seeing her had haunted me for days after, and I just couldn’t bear to think what seeing my father, my hero in that state would do to me.
As I looked around, I realized I was in some sort of high traffic waiting area.
So, how do I get to the Intensive Care Unit? Up on the wall there were signs pointing in all directions towards various areas in the hospital, but none of them mentioned Intensive Care.
All around me, doctors, nurses, and some EMT drivers rushed around. At the far end of the room there was a reception desk. I rushed over to the woman sitting behind it.
I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “ Excuse me. I’m looking for my dad. I was told he was in the Intensive Care Unit.”
She smiled warmly at me and then began to type on her computer. “What’s his name so I can make sure he hasn’t been moved?”
“Thomas Hightower.”
Upon my saying his name, her typing halted, and her eyes darted back up to me. “Mr. Thomas Hightower? Are you family?” She swiveled in her chair and picked up a white telephone.
I nodded.
“What’s your name?” she asked, holding the phone on her shoulder and looking through a file.
“Jane Hightower. I’m his daughter.” I tried not to sound anxious. I was hoping somewhere in her file it said that my dad was doing just fine now, and it was all a big mix up, but all she did was set it aside and punch a number in the phone.
I fidgeted with my cell in an attempt to keep myself from freaking out. My call log did, in fact, show that I had about eight missed calls from my family. I guess I didn’t hear them between the noise at the bar and my running to get to Caroline’s. I silently scolded myself for not checking my phone enough.
“Miss Hightower?” The woman interrupted my thoughts. “This is Chris. He’s a volunteer and he’ll take you right over to your dad’s room. It’s not too far.”
“That would be great. Thank you so much.” I smiled tensely and then followed Chris down one of the halls. He was a tall, thin, and looked young like he was probably still in college.
            We walked side by side for a few moments without speaking, until Chris broke the silence. “Don’t worry Caroline, we’re almost to the ICU. Your family has a private waiting area.”
Absently, I replied, “I’m not Caroline, I’m Jane.”
            “Who?”
            “Jane. I’m the youngest.”
Chris stared at me for a moment and wrinkled his brow. “I thought Tom Hightower only had one daughter.”
Under normal circumstances I usually got a little annoyed when people—oh I don’t know—forgot I existed, but I had bigger things to worry about so all I could do was hazily reply, “No, he has two.”
Chris squinted at me for a moment as though he were deciding if he believed me or not.
After a few more turns he stopped and pointed to a room with the door closed. “This is the waiting area. You can go on in. Your family is all there.”
I thanked him and quickly went inside. Everyone was there, all sitting in various positions around the two couches and TV that consisted of the waiting room. There was a door on the other end which I assumed led to Dad.
Caroline and Steven, were standing next to the window while their kids watched television. Peter stood awkwardly beside the other door, while his wife, Natalia, sat in the chair against the wall, biting her nails.
Stanley was the first to greet me. “Janie. Come in.” He reached out and embraced me. I squeezed him tightly, relieved that he was already there; but feeling guilty for being the last to arrive.
“How is he?” I choked.
“He’s stable. The doctor is going to come by and give us an update.”
I released him and wiped away a tear.
“Would you like to see him?” He asked. “Mother is in there with him right now.”
I nodded eagerly, but was still completely frightened to go through that door.
I crossed the room and slowly turned the cold door knob, trying to prepare myself for whatever I was about to witness. When the door slid open, the first thing I saw was Mother, standing sideways next to the pillows, blocking Dad’s face from my view. She was wearing a starched pink skirt suit. Her right arm was tightly crossed over her chest while her left was fidgeting with a gold Tiffany’s necklace.
“There you are! We’ve been going crazy trying to reach you. Don’t you carry your cell?” She chided, using her “Mother” tone. When she spoke, it was quickly and without accent, yet each word was carefully pronounced, as though she were biting off every syllable as it left her mouth.
I weakly nodded, trying to see around her. “Sorry, I was on my way to Caroline’s and I couldn’t…”
“Nevermind.” She cut me off with a wave, her bracelet clanging in the air. “You’re here now. Come see your father.”           
Suddenly I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst into tears. I was not ready to see my daddy in a sick man’s body.
Stanely leaned over and whispered in my ear, “We must be strong for him, you know? I’ll be out here if you need me.” I nodded and walked over right next to the bed where my mother was standing before.
My dad had moved to New York when he was just twenty years old, but he had always remained an enthusiastic ambassador of Texas with his year round dark skin, strong frame, and laughing eyes. Now, as I looked down at him, laying there in the hospital, he looked pale, weak, and so so sad.
            I gazed down on him, and spoke in a soft voice. “Daddy? It’s me, Jane. Janie.”
He twisted his neck toward my voice and suddenly began to weep. I know for a fact, I had never seen my dad cry before. My entire body went limp.
After a few minutes the doctor came in. She had short red hair and looked to be in her mid-forties. Since I was the last to arrive, she introduced herself as Dr. Shanon, and updated me that my dad had suffered a stroke on the left side of his brain.
“The logic side.” She explained.
She described it as a “congenital defect” in one of his arteries, and said that he couldn’t feel anything on his left. My mom, who found him hunched over his desk earlier that evening, luckily had caught the stroke early.
“Don’t worry,” continued Dr. Shanon, “he’s going to be ok. We’re going to be moving him out of the ICU soon, which is good news.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Dr. Shanon went on to explain to us all that she believed our dad could potentially make a nearly full recovery, but only after a rehabilitation process. “It’s absolutely essential that you all make him exercise his brain to regain what he’s lost. He is going to have to learn how to feed himself again, speak, walk, everything.”
I couldn’t help but allow my jaw to drop at that last bit. He’s lost everything? She apparently noticed my shock and spoke to me directly. “I know it seems hopeless, but it’s not. His brain will heal and he can relearn everything he used to know. Afterwards, he’ll still be the same Tom Hightower he was before, but changed a little.”
Hearing this comforted me a bit.
Since there were only supposed to be one or two people visiting Dad at a time, we spent the next hour rotating between the waiting area and Dad’s room.
“As soon as he moves home, I’m going to hire of team of nurses.” Mother assured everyone. “He’ll get the best care available.”
Visiting hours were up so we had to leave. Caroline and I went downstairs to the gift shop with her kids and did some browsing.
“It’s better than sitting around, worrying.” I commented.
 “Don’t worry, Janie. We’re getting the best treatment possible and Dad is going to be fine.” Said Caroline
“I know. I know, but that’s not the only thing I’m worried about. I’m sure he’ll recover just fine.” I picked up a six inch tall glass figurine of an angel holding a bunny rabbit. Both appeared to be praying. I pulled it close to my chest. For some reason I felt like I needed it.
“What is it then?” asked Caroline.
            I fidgeted with a tassel of what I thought might have been a tea cozy.
            “Well, my computer business failed recently.”
            “Again?!”
            “Yes!” I replied defensively, frowning at her. “Anyway, the night I told Dad, he started acting funny like he wasn’t feeling well.”
            Caroline cut me off. “Janie, you can’t possibly think something like that would push Dad to have a stroke. You heard the doctor say it’s genetic.”
“I know that.” I took a deep breath, but was no use, the tears came back, rewetting my already scratchy, salty contacts. “I just feel so guilty like I…I…just…take and take so much from our family.”
Caroline patted my back, which was a big gesture coming from her seeing how she was highly uncomfortable with displaying any sort of affection. This made me choke up even more.
            “It’s just that Daddy supports me to live on my own and invests in every crazy idea I have and…”
            “And what?”
            “I just keep failing and taking. I don’t give anything back like everyone else does. I feel like I’ve let him down and I just want to make him proud.” I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, and realized that I was cradling the Angel Bunny in my arms like a new born.
            “Don’t worry about it Janie. Dad loves you and wants to support you. He does so without really expecting much from you in return.”
            Ouch. Typical Caroline—whatever came into her head, went right out of her mouth. I shot her a dirty look through the tears filling my eyes again.
            “I don’t mean it like that. You know what I meant. I…” she was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. “Yes?” she answered abruptly. “Fredrick, I really am not in the mood to discuss it with you right now. I’m at the hospital and the Gala is the last thing on my mind.”
            Caroline was one of those people you had no choice but to automatically forgive for insulting you. But the thing was, her comment really did bother me. Maybe because, deep down, I knew it was true. I hadn’t done anything to contribute to growing our family empire the way my siblings had and now my dad was sick and I felt like nothing but a big burden.
            I knew it was selfish of me to be thinking about myself during a time like this, but I just felt so powerless to help Dad that I needed to do something…anything.
For the one hundredth time that evening, I wiped away a tear on my cheek. What if this was my last chance to show Dad what I could do?  What if the unspeakable happened and he passed away not knowing if I was going to be able to support myself or not?
Oh my God. I’m going to become a bum. Oh my God!
Suddenly, my heart began to race. My chest tightened. I can’t breathe. I’m going to suffocate! Sweat dripped down my brow. I felt like I needed to sit down. What was happening to me?
“Er, hang on a moment, Fredrick.” Caroline moved her cell away from her mouth. “Janie? Janie, are you ok?”
Leaning against a table of flowers, I struggled to find my voice. “I think….I think…I’m having a panic attack.”
Caroline simply blinked at me, unfazed. “Is that all? They’re quite common. Just take deep breaths until you feel more relaxed. I have Tic-Tacs in my purse if you need them.”
I glowered at her, but she had already gone back to her conversation.
What was the matter with me? Here I was, twenty-five years old and I had nothing to show for all my years of hard work.
I wanted to show Caroline. I wanted to show the world, but most of all, I wanted to show Dad that I too could be a success—a genius even, if given the right opportunity.
            In the background I could hear Caroline babbling on about the Invention Gala to Fredrick, who pronounced his name “Free-drick.” He was a strange little German man and was the head coordinator.
            You know what? Screw this! I had ideas, and under the right circumstances I could be a genius too.
            “Hey Caroline!” I called out, but she was still in deep conversation. “Caroline!”
            “Um, hang on a moment Free-drick, please…What is it, Jane?”
            I tucked the Angel Bunny sculpture tighter under my arm. “Please tell him to save a display section at the Gala for me. I’m entering an invention this year.”
            She looked a little more shocked than I would have desired.
            “Just do it.” I snapped.
            She nodded hesitantly, “Free-drick, one more thing. Please make all the necessary arrangements for my sister Jane to present this year.”
            I could hear him saying something. Caroline continued, “Yes. Yes, that is correct. All four of the Hightower children will be presenting at the Science and Technology Gala this year.”
            After a few moments she gave me the “thumbs up” sign. Just then, my chest seemed to open up, and I was breathing normal again. With my finger tips I felt along my jaw line for my pulse which was gradually returning to normal. Whew! Relief flooded my body.
 There, now that was settled. This was going to be my year for success, and I was going to ‘wow’ everyone and finally show what I was made of. I felt like I was ready to run out and conquer the world! I was, but first…
            “Excuse me miss, I need to buy this.” I turned to the cashier and handed her the glass figurine. I felt like I was going to need some prayers, even if they only came from the Bunny Angel.
To Chapter 3       Click to purchase ebook!