Baby Alicia Is Dying (6 page)

“He’s one sick baby,” Aunt Clare said as she and Desi peered through the glass partition of the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Inside the cubicle Anthony lay in a crib with stainless steel bars. A feeding tube had been inserted in his nose and an IV line in his foot.

“But he’ll be all right, won’t he?” Desi asked.

“He’s got thrush. In most infants it can be cleared up easily, but because Anthony’s immune system isn’t working properly, he’s in bad shape. He’s a tough little tyke though. Let’s hope he can hang on until the antibiotics take hold.”

Desi was scared. What if Anthony didn’t get well? Gayle came alongside them, and Desi saw tight lines of concern around her mouth. “You’d think I’d be used to putting these babies back into the hospital by now. I never will.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ve been on the phone all morning organizing volunteers to come in and be with him.”

“Won’t the nurses take care of him?” Desi asked.

“They’ll care for his medical needs, but we don’t want any of our babies to feel abandoned in the
hospital. I mean, if he had a regular family, his mother would be with him; so we attempt to have someone with him around the clock. Someone he knows.”

“But he’s so out of it. How will he know anyone?”

“Even patients in comas respond to familiar voices. Sometimes a whopping dose of love can be more effective than all the hospital care in the world.”

“That’s true,” Aunt Clare added. “When a child wakes up and sees a familiar face and is held in loving arms, his physical condition improves. Lots of studies have been done on the correlation between love and wellness. It’s a fact that patients who are lovingly handled recover far more quickly than those who are simply given excellent medical care, but without additional stroking and touching.”

“We want Anthony to have all the love and nurturing possible,” Gayle said as she gazed through the glass. “I’m going to go be with him now for a while. Other volunteers will come in later.” She went to the nurses’ station and brought back a package marked ‘Sterile’ that contained a paper mask and gown, and slipped the gown over her clothes. Desi knew the precautions were to protect Anthony from additional germs.

Gayle patted Desi’s hand. “Don’t worry. Anthony will have plenty of attention while he’s here in ICU. We don’t want to neglect the others back at the
house. We still need you to keep to your scheduled times with the children there.”

“All right,” she said. She wanted to stay with Anthony, but her real place was back at the house with Alicia. This couldn’t happen to Alicia. Not to
her
baby.

   Desi had an argument with her mother over her hanging around the hospital and spending extra hours at ChildCare. “I’m sorry, Desi,” her mother told her as they worked in the kitchen, preparing supper, “but I’m having a really hard time understanding why you’re so fixated on these potential AIDS babies. The whole idea truly bothers me.”

“With Anthony sick, they need me more than ever.”

“But you’re being exposed to HIV on a daily basis.”

“Mom, I’m not going to catch AIDS from the babies.”

Her mother whirled from where she was washing vegetables at the sink. “But how do you
know
that? I know doctors say that people can only catch it under certain conditions, but what if they’re wrong? What if the people who are ‘helping’ with today’s HIV victims find out later that they’ve contracted AIDS?”

“Mom, ChildCare gets all the newest information about the AIDS virus. I read everything! Seientists
have proven that the virus isn’t very hardy. It can’t survive without ideal growing conditions. Outside the body, household bleach can kill it.”

“Don’t feed me all that scientific mumbo-jumbo, Desi! It’s you I’m concerned about.
You
. I’d never forgive myself if you caught this horrible disease. And all because of some babies you feel some misplaced sense of civic duty toward. I could just throttle Clare every time I think about how she’s involved you in this.”

Desi watched her mother’s pinched, angry expression and felt confused. Why was she so against this project? She wished there was some sort of hookup from her heart to her mother’s brain. Some way of instantly and painlessly revealing her deep feelings for Alicia and lack of fear for herself.

In a quiet voice Desi said, “It’s not civic duty for me, Mom. It’s much more than that. Every time I look at Alicia, every time I hold her, I don’t want to let her go. I want to make all the bad things in her life go away. She’s just a little baby, Mom. A tiny six-month-old baby.

“Her mother took drugs and gave HIV to her baby. It was her mother who did wrong, but it’s Alicia who has to pay for it.” Desi noticed her mother wince, as if her words were hurting her physically. What was her mother
really
thinking?

Desi hurriedly added, “Please don’t blame Aunt Clare, Mom. I’m not good at tennis like Valerie. I’m never going to be a beauty queen the way you were,
or popular, like Valerie is. I’m just me. Plain old Desila. I like what I’m doing at ChildCare.”

Slowly her mother dried her hands on a dish towel, folded it methodically, and placed it on the counter. She looked away from Desi and as she walked toward the door, asked, “Can you finish up supper without me?”

Startled, confused by her mother’s response, Desi replied, “Sure, I can. But—”

“Finish the salad, and when the buzzer goes off, take the roast out of the oven.”

“Okay, but—”

“Warm the rice for you and your dad.”

“Aren’t you eating with us?”

Her mother shook her head. “No. I’ve got a headache. I’ll take something and lie down before it gets worse.”

“But, Mom—”

“It’s all right, Desi. Please go on with your plans.”

Dumbfounded, Desi watched her mother leave the kitchen. Something was wrong, something deeper than Desi’s volunteer work. She hadn’t a clue what it could be.

   On Friday night Desi sat curled up in the corner of her aunt’s sofa. She was spending the weekend at her aunt’s again, since her father was on a hunting trip and her mother was attending a decorator’s
convention in New York. “How’s Anthony doing today?”

“They removed his feeding tube because he’s able to swallow on his own now. They’re hoping to discharge him and send him back to the house after Thanksgiving,” Aunt Clare called from the kitchen.

“That’s super,” Desi called in return.

Outside, a cold November rain was falling. Desi snuggled closer into the sofa cushion as her aunt entered the room, carrying a snack tray. “You know, I’m
really
looking forward to Valerie’s coming home for Thanksgiving next week. I think Mom needs to see her.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s acting strange about my volunteer work. Whenever Val’s at home, Mom seems happier. I think Mom misses Val more than she let’s on. They have so much in common—Mom kind of lights up whenever she’s with Val, and you know that’s the truth.”

Aunt Clare set the tray down on the glass-topped cocktail table and handed Desi a cup of hot chocolate. “Tell me, how is your mother acting strange?”

“It’s the AIDS thing, I guess. I thought she was over it, but she and I got into it again the other night. I told Val about it a while back, and she said that Mom would eventually come around, but I’m not so sure. I’m starting to think that it’s something more than AIDS.”

“More? What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I know something else is bothering her.” Desi licked a dollop of whipped cream floating atop her chocolate and wished she could define her impressions more clearly. “I have this brainstorm that might give her some peace of mind about my work. Would you like to hear it?”

“I’m all ears.”

“I thought I could do my science fair project about AIDS. I have to discuss it with Brian first—he’s my lab partner. I figured if we could present facts and statistics about AIDS, the information might calm Mom down some. What do you think?”

Aunt Clare beamed Desi a smile. “I think you’re a wonderful, thoughtful daughter.”

“It’s just an idea. I mean, I have to do a science project anyway, so—why not? Of course I’ll have to talk Brian into it, but he’s been pretty understanding about my ‘fixation’ on the ChildCare house—as Mom calls it.”

“Have you said anything to your dad about your mother’s fears?”

“No … He’s so busy all the time. When he is home, he falls asleep in front of the TV. Do you think I should say something?”

Aunt Clare pursed her lips. “Maybe not yet. Let’s see how she is after Val visits. And you’re right—maybe a science fair project that spells everything out will help.”

Desi nodded thoughtfully, wishing that her mother were as easy to relate to as her aunt.

On Monday morning Desi climbed off the school bus and headed for her locker. She was glad that Thanksgiving break was only three days away. She needed time away from the vibes and undercurrents she kept feeling at school.

She had almost reached her locker when she noticed kids pointing at her and whispering. The back of her neck tingled. Why had she suddenly become the topic of conversation? At her locker she stopped and stared. Spray-painted red letters left a hateful message: “Get Out, Nigger Queer Lover.”

Too shocked to move, Desi stared, but the shock gave way to horror, and horror to fear. She backed away, turned, and ran, shoving past people, struggling to keep her tears inside.

She hit the main entrance and raced down the steps. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs felt rubbery. She stopped at a corner and willed her heart to cease pounding. All around her, morning traffic flowed. The rest of the world appeared perfectly normal.

She wondered what to do. She couldn’t go back to school, and she had no way to get home. As she dug into her purse, looking for bus fare, a car pulled up at the curb. She recognized the rumble of the broken muffler instantly. “Get in,” Brian said, leaning across the seat and opening the door.

She didn’t need an invitation, and jumped inside. “Did—did you see my locker?” she asked haltingly as he pulled out into traffic.

“I just heard about it.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Why would someone do that? Why would someone write those awful words?”

“Because some people are stupid and mean. And gutless too. You can’t pay any attention to idiots like that.”

“But how can they hate me so much? They don’t even know me.” She fumbled for a tissue.

“The operative word is
hate
, Desi. Hate has its own agenda and doesn’t need a reason.”

“I’ve heard about hate groups, but I never expected to run into one in high school.”

“Grady has a couple of them. People who hate everyone who’s different—blacks, gays, any minority—it doesn’t matter. They’re misguided jerks who spout ‘ethnic purity’ and have no tolerance for anyone who’s different from them. I think it’s a disease worse than AIDS.”

“Ethnic purity”—he used a term she’d read in history books and heard occasionally on the nightly news. Until now the phrase had had no meaning, but all at once she saw it in all its ugliness. She found a tattered tissue in her purse and blew her nose. “Do these kids really think I’m going to give them AIDS because I volunteer at the ChildCare house?”

“Probably not, but it is a scary disease. Fear makes people do dumb things.” Brian pulled into a parking place beside a public park. “Come on, let’s walk.”

Her legs felt shaky, but she walked with him. They crossed the grass and stopped at a pond where ducks swam on murky, sun-studded water. A cool breeze dried the dampness on her cheeks. Desi felt
tired and completely drained. “It’s hard to believe kids like us belong to hate groups.”

“Believe it,” Brian said. “But you can’t spend your life looking over your shoulder, wondering if someone’s going to grab you.”

Until he mentioned it, the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. “Do you think someone might try and hurt me?”

“I don’t think so. People like that use fear as their biggest weapon. They use scare tactics because they’re cowards.”

“Well, their tactics are working,” Desi confessed. She glanced sideways, saw his rugged profile, his muscular build and long hair, and recalled that the first time she’d met him she’d been slightly fearful of him. Then another thought occurred to her. “How do you know so much about these hate groups?”

“I’m blond and blue-eyed. The perfect candidate for racial purity.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I told them all to leave me alone, that I wasn’t interested.”

Overwhelmed by all that had happened that morning, Desi suddenly thought of her mother’s world of high school innocence. Had that kind of world vanished altogether? “So you think I should ignore the message on my locker?”

“If you don’t ignore it, then they’ve got you where they want you.”

“I don’t want to play by their rules,” Desi told
him with more courage than she felt. “And I won’t give up my volunteer work.”

He took her by the elbow and turned her to face him. “If people would only use their brains, they’d realize that the medical types at that house aren’t going to let you be around something that’s hazardous to your health. I mean, they wouldn’t knowingly risk a lawsuit now, would they?”