Baby Alicia Is Dying (17 page)

One of the girls from the tennis team poked her head through the doorway and yelled, “Hey, Mitchell! The coach is holding the van. Get a move on it.”

“Coming!” Val picked up her bag and racket. “Listen, I’m glad you came to watch me play.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. You’re my favorite sister. Don’t you want to take your roses with you?” Desi asked as Val darted out the door.

“You’re my
only
sister. Take them home and enjoy them,” Val called over her shoulder. “Let’s hope there’s plenty more in my future at regionals.”

Desi sniffed the heady sweetness of the red bouquet as she followed her sister into the sunlight.

   A week later Desi decided it was past time to throw the red roses out. The petals had grown dark with age, and the aroma had turned stale. She was walking them to the trash can when she passed the den and saw her mother sitting on the floor surrounded by photos, papers, and books. Intrigued, Desi stepped into the room. “What’re you doing?”

Her mother glanced up, and Desi saw a mist of tears in her blue eyes. “Are you okay, Mom?”

Her mother quickly wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

“Not really. Just reminiscing.”

Setting the flowers down on the carpet, Desi knelt beside her mother and saw that she was holding a silver-framed photograph of a newborn baby. “Matthew?”

“Yes. They took it at the hospital right after he was born.” Her mother held the frame up for Desi to see.

The baby’s brow was puckered, his eyes were narrow slits. A fine cap of dark hair covered his egg-shaped head, and his fists were curled tightly beside plump cheeks. “Gee, he looks like a little old man.”

Her mother laughed softly. “Newborns usually aren’t beautiful to anybody but their parents.”

“I guess they cuten up as they get older, huh?”

“They certainly do.” Her mother held up a snapshot of herself holding a slightly older version of the baby. He was dressed in blue and wrapped in a blue blanket. “He’s two months old here.” She held up another. “And three months here.”

Twin dimples peeked out from either side of his fat, rosy cheeks. “You still miss him, don’t you?”

“I’ll always miss him.” Her mother picked up a tiny beaded bracelet that bore his name and fingered the beads like a rosary. “I’ve thought about him more these past few months than in all the years since he died. I’ve been realizing how much I missed with you as a baby.”

“Me?”

“You were an adorable baby too.” Her mother sorted through the pictures until she found one of a baby girl dressed in pink with a pink bow taped to her head.

“I never saw these before. I didn’t know you had them.” Desi noticed her dimples and realized that they were like Matthew’s.

“We have many photos of you. I just never
showed them off. I wish I could go back and do some things differently.”

“I guess everybody wishes they could do some things over again.”

Her mother touched her arm. “Don’t you make the same mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Her mother didn’t say anything for a minute, but only stared down at the framed photo of Matthew. “Don’t waste your whole life mourning what can’t be changed. Don’t lose sight of what’s really important.”

Desi knew what she was telling her. She wanted her to remember Alicia, but not to get too caught up in the loss of her. But the wounds on her heart still ached, even after five months. “I know what’s important,” she said quickly. “I’m almost a sophomore, remember? Haven’t you always told me there’s plenty for me to do in high school? Maybe I’ll try some new things out next year.”

“That will be good for you, but don’t give up all your other interests.”

Desi didn’t want to think about the future at the moment. She was still finding it hard to let go of the past. She watched her mother begin to sort through her baby pictures. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I going to put them in your baby book. I was glancing through it and saw that I’d hardly written down a thing. I want to go back and fix it up while I
can still remember your milestones.” She smiled. “Someday when you have children of your own, you may want to prove to them how special and brilliant you were.”

Desi felt surprise, then pleasure. And she felt as if she mattered, really mattered. “Corrine’s coming by, and we’re going to the mall. I’d better finish getting ready.” She scrambled to her feet, retrieving the limp bouquet. “And throw these away.”

Desi was almost out the door when her mother added, “By the way, congratulations again on your science fair project’s being passed on to the state level. In case I didn’t tell you when you first showed it to me, I found it very touching that you chose to do something on sudden infant death syndrome.”

“Brian helped a lot,” Desi said, remembering how he’d come through for her when she’d suggested the topic and explained about her baby brother. “Plus I had a whole lot more time to work on it than I ever thought I would.”

Desi hurried to the kitchen, where she stepped on the pedal to open the trash can. The lid popped up, but she stood staring down at the half-dead flowers, suddenly unable to dump them. Every petal was edged in brown. Several fell off in her hand, and she fingered them. They felt soft, reminding her of velvet. Their aroma clung to her skin. She shook the stems, and petals fluttered downward, then lay scattered on the cool white tile, like scales.

June’s sultry heat soaked through Desi’s cotton shirt as she walked slowly along the driveway of the ChildCare house. She switched the cardboard box she was carrying to her other hip, and squinted into the distance where someone was steering a riding lawn mower around the trees and bushes on the property.

Suddenly the lawn tractor turned and headed her way. The roar of the engine split the air, and the smell of gas exhaust blotted out the scents of honeysuckle and mown grass. When it was almost on top of her, Brian, the driver, cut the engine and hopped off. “Desi? I thought that was you!” His tan made his hair seem blonder and his eyes bluer. “How are you doing? Why are you here?”

“I could ask the same thing,” she said, unable to hide her surprise at seeing him. “I thought you were working at the health club this summer.”

“I am. But I volunteer here two weekends a month, doing yard work. They sure need the help.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “So what have you been doing since school let out?”

“I’ve been filling in for my dad’s receptionist
while she’s on vacation—answering phones and setting up appointments.” She looked around the expansive yard. The bushes were clipped, and mulch had been spread around the bases of hedges and trees. “The place looks nice. Better than before.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to help out, and I knew I’d be no good juggling babies—the way they poop and all.”

He made a face, and she smiled. “I got an A in biology,” she said. “Did you?”

“Sure did, but I’ve created a monster. My report card had mostly C’s, a D-plus, and one glowing A. My mom keeps calling me my son, the doctor.’ ”

They stood looking at each other in the hot, sticky air until Brian said, “You told me you’d quit after Alicia died. I didn’t think you’d come back.”

Desi swatted at a fly that buzzed around her hair. “I didn’t plan to. I didn’t think I could stand coming here and not seeing her. Even now it’s hard to think about the babies inside and how they could get sick and die.”

“Gayle told me that Dwayne had his first birthday and that his most recent results showed he’s not testing HIV-positive anymore. They think he’ll be all right, it’s possible that he may never develop AIDS.”

“I’m glad.”

Brian pointed to the box she carried. “So what you got there? Some kind of plant?”

She adjusted her grip on the box. “Believe it or
not, it’s a rosebush. I thought I’d plant it under the nursery window.”

“I can do it for you.”

She pulled back. “No. Uh—thanks, but I want to do it.” She felt she owed him an explanation. “It’s a dumb idea I had. I know it looks like a naked stick with its bottom wrapped in burlap, but the guy at the nursery where I bought it swears that it’ll be blooming in no time. It’s supposed to have giant, red velvet roses with some fancy name that I can’t remember. The man said it’ll need plenty of water.”

“Would you like me to take care of it?”

“Could you?” She appreciated his offer, knowing she’d failed to consider its upkeep once it was planted.

“No problem.” He looked around. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

“And I’d better get this thing in the ground. It was good to see you again.”

“Yeah. You too.” He climbed back onto the riding mower, but paused before switching on the engine. “I was wondering if maybe sometime this summer you’d like to go to a movie with me.”

Her heart thumped, and she felt a funny fluttering sensation inside her tummy. “A movie?”

“Nothing with blood and guts,” he warned with a grin.

“Sure. I’d like to a lot.”

“I’ll call you.” He waved and started the motor. The engine roared as he zigzagged in and out of the
trees. Soon the sound of the motor was replaced by the humming of insects, and the smell of gasoline displaced by the sweet scent of the honeysuckle.
A real date with Brian
. She grinned and looked forward to telling Corrine.

Desi boosted the box and headed for the window outside the room where Alicia once lived.

   “Brian said you were out here.”

Desi looked up at Gayle, hastily wiped her dirt-covered palms on her shorts, and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun. Gayle was tan and trimmer than the last time Desi had seen her. “I’m planting a rosebush. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a bit. We’re trying hard to fix the place up. Your friend Brian’s been a great help.”

“He really understands about AIDS and the babies and all.”

“Yes, he told me about his uncle.” Gayle regarded the bush skeptically. “Is it alive?”

“I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but the man at the nursery promised it’d be spouting roses in a few weeks.”

“Why are you planting it?”

Desi didn’t answer right away, but patted the red Georgia dirt firmly around the base and stood. “I started thinking about how Alicia only lived for such a little bit of time, and how she’d never get to grow up. She’d have been pretty, don’t you think?”

“She would have been beautiful.”

“Well, I thought there should be something pretty to remember her by. A rosebush seemed like a good idea.”

Gayle looked thoughtful. “You mean like a living memorial?”

“Something like that.”

“I love it. In fact I love it a lot. We could put a memorial garden here on the grounds. Something with benches, for quiet meditation. A kind of living monument to all these babies.” Gayle rubbed her hands together gleefully. “What an excellent idea. I’ll bring it up at our next board meeting. Maybe we can set aside some money for it.”

Desi was pleased by Gayle’s enthusiasm, but she had wanted to plant something just for Alicia—and for Matthew. Still she said, “It sounds all right to me. I hope the board approves.”

Gayle put her arm around Desi’s shoulders. “How have you been? We’ve missed you. Tamara especially.”

“I’m okay.” A swarm of memories pressed in on Desi—walking Alicia in her stroller, bathing the babies, feeding and changing them, Christmas and the decorating party. She felt a lump rising to her throat and realized she needed to get out of there.

“Why don’t you come inside and have some lemonade? Sadie’s just made a fresh pitcher. She’s baking cookies too.”

“I’ve got to be going. Mom’s picking me up soon.”

“It’s awful hot out here, and that lemonade is ice-cold.”

Desi warred with her emotions. “Well, maybe for one glass.”

Inside the house the air-conditioning felt cool, refreshing. She lifted her long hair off her neck and looked around. Fresh mauve paint, matched floral-patterned sofas, and gorgeous arrangements of silk flowers made the living room look like a page from a decorator’s magazine. “The place looks wonderful,” Desi said in genuine admiration.

“Your mother’s touch,” Gayle told her.

“My mother? She never said a word.”

“I think she wanted to give you plenty of space about the whole thing. We all knew how you were grieving.” Gayle led her into the newly furnished playroom. “Your mother’s really been fantastic. She knows so many decorators and merchants. She managed to get donations of furniture and materials.”

Gayle paused in front of a photo gallery of the ChildCare infants on the wall. Desi purposefully avoided looking at it, concentrating instead on the bookshelf below that held scrapbooks and various memorabilia. Her gaze snagged on the binding of the baby book she’d bought Alicia. Had anyone filled it in? She longed for the courage to check, but didn’t find it.

She followed Gayle into the kitchen, where several
of the volunteers sat eating lunch. “I heard you were visiting,” Sadie said, embracing Desi. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Can you stay? Tamara will be here soon, and she’d love to see you.”

“I can’t. Honest.” Desi felt trapped. All she wanted to do was get out.