Baby Alicia Is Dying (11 page)

“Will she be alone with her?”

“For a little while,” Gayle said. “About an hour. I’ll take a stroller too. That way her mother can walk her around the park. Afterward the social worker will bring Alicia back downtown, and I’ll bring her back here.”

“What time is the meeting?”

“Noon.” Gayle paused. “Don’t worry, we’ll have her home by supper.”

“I want to dress her for the meeting,” Desi blurted out. “I want her mother to see what good care we’re giving her. Maybe if she does, she’ll realize that she can’t take care of her half as well. After all, she’s got HIV, and she was an addict.”

Gayle started to say something, but patted Desi’s shoulder instead. “Look, if you want to dress Alicia to meet with her mother, it’s fine with me. Please pack a diaper bag to take too, okay?”

Desi headed for the playroom, but stopped at the doorway and asked, “What’s her name anyway?”

“Who’s?”

“Alicia’s mother’s.”

“Sherrie Rowe.”

Desi told her, “Thanks for letting me know,” and stepped through the doorway.

   The morning of the trip, when Tamara tried to help prepare Alicia, Desi shooed her away. “I want to do this by myself,” she told her friend.

First Desi bathed the baby, letting her splash the way she loved. Alicia poked her yellow rubber duck beneath the water, then laughed gleefully when it popped to the surface. Next Desi dried her carefully, playing peekaboo for a few minutes before placing her on the changing table. She sprinkled
baby powder and rubbed sweet-smelling baby lotion on Alicia’s tummy.

“You don’t have to be on your very best behavior, you know,” Desi advised the infant. “It’s all right to pitch a fit. Your mother needs to see that just because you look like an angel, you don’t always act like one.” Alicia’s bright eyes followed her as Desi worked the tiny legs into pale pink tights. “And if you spit up, be sure it’s on her and not your outfit.” Alicia gurgled and reached for the necklace that dangled from Desi’s neck.

Desi pulled a shirt over Alicia’s head, then slipped on a dress and a white sweater. She picked up a soft baby hairbrush and pulled it through the head of tight, black curls, clipped a large fuchsia bow into the hair, and slipped shiny black patent leather shoes onto Alicia’s tiny feet.

“She’s adorable,” Tamara said as she came into the room carrying Dwayne.

It was true—the baby looked so beautiful that a lump rose in Desi’s throat. “I better put her parka on her, don’t you think? The weatherman said it wasn’t going to be warmer than fifty-five today.”

“The suns shining nice and bright,” Tamara said, looking through the nursery window. “It’ll probably be warmer out in the sun.”

Desi sat the baby in her crib with a few toys and set about filling a diaper bag with fresh diapers, Alicia’s rubber duck, a teddy bear, and a few teething toys. “Maybe I should write a note saying she’s
cutting her back teeth and may need this gel rubbed on them.” She held up a tube of ointment.

Tamara shook her head. “It’ll be all right.”

“Well, if her gums hurt, she’ll start crying.”

“Desi, it’ll be okay,” Tamara repeated.

“I know,” Desi said with a helpless shrug. “It’s just hard, that’s all. I never once thought that her mother would ever ask to see her. I sort of forgot that she even had a mother.”

“Well, Sadie told me that Heather’s mother set up three appointments to meet with Heather and the social worker, and she didn’t show up for one meeting.”

“She didn’t?”

“Nope. And after the third time they never heard from her again. Heather’s a ward of the state, and her mother won’t ever get her back.”

Desi hung the diaper bag over her shoulder, lifted Alicia from the crib, and carried her into the kitchen. Tamara followed.

“My, my, doesn’t she look the picture of a princess,” Sadie said as she looked up from loading the dishwasher. “You’ve done a fine job of fixing her up to see her mama.”

Desi sat in the rocker, turned Alicia to face her, and proceeded to put the parka on her. Midway through the process Gayle sailed into the kitchen.

“Oh, Desi, she looks lovely. Thanks for dressing her so nicely. Would you mind buckling her into her car seat for me while I get the stroller?”

“No problem,” Desi said, carrying Alicia out to the car.

Tenderly she sat Alicia in the infant seat and buckled the straps. Gayle came out, unlocked the trunk, and slid the stroller inside. “Now, don’t you worry,” Gayle said. “She’ll be home by late afternoon.”

Together they stood next to the car. “It’s all arranged with the social worker,” Gayle said. “I understand Alicia’s mother is really looking forward to this.”

Desi offered a tight smile. “I hope it goes well.”

Gayle opened the car door and got behind the wheel. “I’m proud of you, Desi. You’re handling this very well, and I appreciate your attitude. I know how much Alicia means to you.”

“What’s the big deal?” Desi said with a shrug. “It’s just a little visit. Maybe she won’t even show up.”

“You can’t tell,” Gayle called cheerily, over the sound of the engine. Desi waved and watched the car wind up the drive to the brick gateway, where it turned onto the road. Sunlight glanced off the metal, and a cool breeze stirred up the leaves at her feet. As soon as the vehicle had disappeared, Desi hurried indoors, her heart pounding. Fortunately the kitchen was empty.

She fumbled in her jeans pocket for a scrap of paper, picked up the phone, and punched in the written numbers. She heard one ring, and when the
receiver on the other end was lifted, she didn’t wait for a greeting, but said breathlessly, “They just left. I’ll be waiting for you right at the end of the driveway. And hurry, Brian. We have to beat them downtown.”

“Honestly Desi, doing this makes me feel sneaky. First I have to wait by that pay phone at the corner gas station, then you call, and I rush over and pick you up. And now we’re trying to break a speed record into downtown. What am I—a detective? Brian wove his car in and out of freeway traffic as he grumbled.

“You said you’d help me. We’ve got to get downtown before Gayle hands over the baby so we can see the social worker’s car and follow her to the park. Can you go any faster?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there. I don’t know how I ever let you talk me into this.”

Sitting in Brian’s car and speeding down the expressway was making Desi wonder the same thing. How had she ever decided to spy on the meeting between Alicia and her mother? Where had she gotten the courage to call Brian the night before and work out the details of such a scheme?

She had outlined the plan over the phone, and he’d listened in silence. “Will you do it?” she had asked in a voice full of emotion.

“Why can’t you ask Gayle if you could tag along?”

Desi had squeezed the receiver in frustration. “Are you serious? She’s not going to take
me
to meet Alicia’s mother.”

“Why the cloak-and-dagger routine? Why can’t I just pick you up at the ChildCare house as soon as they leave?”

“Think about it—Sadie’s seen your car, and she’ll ask questions. She might even say something to Gayle, and I promised Gayle I wouldn’t have you visit again—”

“Calm down,” he’d said. “So you got the number of the pay phone at the gas station?”

“I walked over and wrote it down this afternoon. You have to be waiting at ten-thirty on the dot, because Gayle’s driving Alicia downtown for the hook-up with the social worker.”

He’d gone silent, and Desi had felt her heart pounding. “I need your help, Brian.”

She’d heard him release a deep breath. “All right. I’ll do it, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

Now, weaving in and out of traffic, Desi herself was thinking it hadn’t been such a bright idea, but she’d come too far to turn back. “Slow down!” she cried, pointing. “There’s Gayle’s car. I guess that’s the social worker she’s talking with.” Gayle had pulled alongside another car in downtown Atlanta and was speaking to the driver.

“Give our junior spy a merit badge,” Brian muttered, slowing his car and causing the driver behind him to lean on his horn.

Desi ducked, in case Gayle should look over at the commotion. Brian started a running commentary. “Subject A is carrying Baby Girl Subject to a red Mazda and strapping her in. Now Subject A is getting into her car and starting the engine. She’s heading west toward the freeway. Baby Girl Subject does not seem to be crying.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Desi growled, scooting up to where she could peer over the dashboard. She saw the back of a red car a few car lengths in front of them. “Don’t let them get too far ahead,” she commanded.

“Who’s leading this escapade, ace? My faithful chariot can keep up.”

Desi straightened in the seat and riveted her gaze on the social worker’s car. Thirty minutes later they turned onto a side street that wound through a suburb. The social worker pulled her car into a parking area adjoining a park. Brian chose a space some rows over as Desi watched the social worker unload the stroller and put Alicia in it. Desi tugged on Brian’s arm as the woman started pushing Alicia toward a cluster of park benches. “Come on.”

“Why do you still need me? I’d feel better waiting here.”

“I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“I guess some girl peeking from behind trees
would be pretty weird.” He opened his car door. “Come on, Sherlock. Let’s go.”

They headed in the direction of the benches. In the distance Desi saw the social worker talking to a girl. At first she thought that the social worker was asking directions, but soon she saw her lift Alicia out of the stroller and hand her over to the girl. Desi stared. “Do you suppose that’s
her?”

Brian gazed surreptitiously in every direction. “It’s a good bet.”

The social worker handed the girl the diaper bag and walked away. The girl sat down on the bench with Alicia and patted the baby awkwardly. “If that’s Alicia’s mother, she’s just a kid!” Desi exclaimed. “I need to get closer.” She dragged him forward.

When they were about ten yards away, Desi stopped and studied the girl, taking care to remain well out of the angle of Alicia’s vision. Desi thought that the girl’s jeans and jeans jacket looked brand-new. Obviously she had dressed for the occasion. The girl held the baby gingerly, as if Alicia were a bomb that might go off. Alicia appeared bewildered, and her lower lip quivered as if she were deciding whether or not to cry. Desi had the urge to run up and take the baby away.

“Alicia’s mother is so young,” Desi whispered, dismayed.

“What did you expect? Some woman with two other kids and a briefcase?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t think she’d be our age.”

The girl unzipped Alicia’s parka and examined her clothing. “She shouldn’t do that,” Desi said. “Alicia could catch a cold.”

“Give it up, Desi. We don’t belong here.” Brian took her securely by the arm and pulled her back toward the parking lot.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here.”

“Let me go.”

“You’re coming with me.” At the car he opened the door and pushed her inside.

“I don’t want to leave!”

Brian got in and slammed the door hard. “We’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving!” She pulled on the door handle. It fell off in her hand. “Oh, great. This piece of junk—”

Brian took the metal handle and tossed it into the backseat. “I can fix it. Now listen to me. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Reluctantly she allowed her eyes to meet his. “You are
not
Alicia’s mother. That girl
is
—and she deserves to spend some time alone with her kid without having you hanging out of the bushes spying on her.”

For a moment Desi wanted to murder Brian, but suddenly tears brimmed in her eyes. She sniffed and looked away. He was right, of course. Alicia didn’t belong to her. Not really. “Aw, come on,” he
said, turning on the engine and putting the car into reverse. “I know this isn’t easy for you. How about if I buy you some pizza?”

“Do you solve every crisis with food?” she snapped.

They didn’t speak again until they were sitting inside a pizza parlor and Brian had ordered for them. At last he broke the silence. “I’m sorry I was rough on you.” She didn’t respond. “It’s just that you’re making too big a deal out of this thing. You’re setting yourself up to get hurt.”

Desi sat on her hands. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“You won’t.”

She felt defeated and miserable. “I suppose you think I’m an idiot. Why should some girl like me care about some poor baby who may contract a terrible, incurable disease—a baby whose own mother walked out on her as soon as she was born?” Desi fought back tears. “Maybe that’s why I
do
care. I mean, what kind of mother doesn’t want her own daughter?” Deep down Desi realized how much she could relate to the feeling of being unwanted, but she couldn’t say that to Brian.

“Don’t judge Alicia’s mother like that. You don’t know why she gave her up, and you don’t know what her life’s like.”

Desi resented him for pointing out her judgmental attitude. What did he know about mothers’
love for their daughters? She felt miserable and began to cry.