House Arrest (10 page)

Josué’s eyes were closed. His mother sat at his bedside, staring at the slow rain of fluid in the drip chamber on the IV pump.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Carmen.

“Bien. He woke up after surgery asking for lunch.”

“I missed breakfast,” Josué opened his eyes and pointed to his leg. “I’ve got a giant bandage.”

Hugging him was tricky, without jostling his leg or the IV in his left hand. I sat on the metal chair next to Carmen. “You feel okay?” I asked, handing him a small green racing car model with a bow around the cellophane wrapping.

“I’m starved. I hate Jello. Can you get me a cheeseburger?” Josué fumbled with the package. “Awesome. I don’t have this one.”

“Wait a little while for the burger, Josué.” I turned to Carmen. “What did the surgeon say?”

“The placa, the x-ray, looked good,” Carmen said. “Probably they will send him home tomorrow. You will still come to our house?”

“If I can. A physical therapist might be more useful to him at this point.” I touched Carmen’s arm and stood. Marge would sack me if she knew I made an unauthorized visit on company time. “Sorry I can’t stay. Call me if you need anything.”

The afternoon flew by. Mrs. Grover’s dressing change and antibiotic infusion, a quick sandwich at my desk, a phone call to report Mr. Stanisewski’s healing ulcer to his doc, an intake on a new patient. Then I rushed to get home before Zoe’s school bus.

Gina’s red station wagon was parked at the curb in front of my house. She sat slumped over the steering wheel, her head buried in her arms.

12 ~ Gina

Gina reached into the fur-trimmed sleeve of her coat for her tissue, blew her nose again, and lowered her head into the cradle of her arms on the steering wheel. She looked up at the coughing sound of Emily’s engine cutting off.

Two decades of working as a nurse, so why was she so walloped by this patient’s death? Sure, she’d been taking care of Max for over a year of chemo. Then there was hospice, with the intense family interactions over the final days of his dying. Like his great-granddaughter from Iowa who wouldn’t leave Max’s bedside for the last week, and wouldn’t stop staring at Gina either. The girl took every small opportunity to touch Gina’s arm or hand, like she had never felt dark skin before. So it was doubly odd how comfortable Gina was with the gathering of Max’s family. They all talked at the same time, their loud voices peppered with Yiddish phrases. They reminded her of her own family back home in Jamaica, their musical patois just as exuberant and chaotic.

“Gina?” Emily peered into the window. “What’s wrong?”

Gina started snuffling again. “Max died this morning.”

“I’m so sorry. Come in.”

Settled on the loveseat, Gina listened to the comforting sounds of Emily making tea in the kitchen. She had never seen the sun porch, never been deeper inside Emily’s home than the living room. She could see why Emily would like this cozy cocoon of a room, even if it was a little nippy for Gina’s blood. She adjusted the quilt around her shoulders.

“I have to keep an eye out for Zoe’s bus.” Emily put a tray with an earthenware teapot and two mugs on the wobbly table by the window. “Tell me about Max.”

Gina felt her eyes start to flood. “What’s to tell? His family was with him. He was comfortable, dozing mostly, but aware. About an hour before he died, he opened his eyes and looked around and said he was ready to go.”

Emily squeezed Gina’s hand.

“And then, damned if he didn’t get this funny look on his dear shriveled face and told us to all listen up. He announced that he was still a dues-paying member of the American Communist Party and proud of it.” Gina made a noise that sounded like half laugh, half choke. “I never knew that. His daughter rolled her eyes, but no one else reacted. Then he closed his eyes and didn’t wake up again.”

“You really loved him. I’m glad you could be there.”

Gina watched her friend’s long face dissolve into an unfocused expression and wondered what Emily was thinking about. Gina blew her nose again. “Who would have thought I would cry for an old white Jewish guy with hair sprouting out of his ears.” She glanced quickly at Emily, but she didn’t look offended. “A commie, no less.”

“You’ve taken care of him a long time.”

“That was the only humane thing Marge ever did, to let me continue with him, even when hospice started. Of course, if she had ever noticed how much I liked the guy, she would have changed my assignment just to vex me.”

“We’re lucky she’s so clueless.”

“It’s crazy, but Max reminds me of my Granny Teisha,” Gina said. It was odd that she had never mentioned Granny to Emily. “She pretty much raised me and my brothers.”

“What about your parents?” Emily poured tea into their mugs.

“They worked in a resort in Ocho Rios, so we stayed in the village with Granny Teisha. Whenever we left the house, she made us wear thick, ugly sandals cut from old tires. Of course, we immediately took them off, hid them under a bush, and ran off into the woods barefoot.” Gina smiled. “Inevitably, one of us would step on broken glass or a sharp stone in the river, and limp home bleeding. Granny Teisha would bandage our wounds, look up at the heavens and wonder out loud how come the sandal wasn’t cut, just the foot. We kids would laugh and hug her, before running off again. That’s how Max’s family treated him. Ignoring his decrees and loving him to pieces.”

Emily sounded wistful. “I wish I’d had brothers or sisters.”

“You were an only child?”

“Yep.”

“Did you always live in Portland?” Gina knew she was pushing, but Emily seemed so forlorn.

“Just until I was ten. Then on an island. With my mother.”

“Does she still live there, on the island?”

“She died when I was fifteen.”

“What about your father?”

Emily shook her head.

Gina took a sip of the tea, letting the mint steam tickle her nose. She waited for Emily to say more, but she didn’t. “How did your meeting go with the cop?”

“Not a cop. Probation officer. She was all right. But I never told you about last Friday.” Emily took a slow drink of her tea.

“What happened?”

“Pippa took me to the park, where her daughter and the other kid died.”

“I thought when someone was under house arrest they could only go certain places.”

“Strictly speaking, that’s true. But this was therapeutic. You know, so she could express her feelings about losing Abby.”

“You’re a nurse, girlfriend. Not a therapist. What happened at the park?”

Emily hesitated.

“Talk.” Gina tried to keep her voice calm.

“We went to their sacred place.” Emily spoke slowly. “She described the ceremony. Dancing and peyote. A pregnant woman does a special dance, to convince Isis to send back the sun, and spring, all that. It’s very important to them.” She paused again. “Since Pippa is the pregnant one this year, she has to be there and dance.” Emily rubbed her thumb and index finger up and down the bridge of her nose.

“What about the babies?”

“They were close by, sleeping wrapped up in warm blankets. Pippa said they were fine when she and Tian fell asleep right next to them.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Emily?”

“Pippa plans to somehow get out of her monitor for solstice. To dance.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Emily didn’t answer.

“She wants to do that again? After her kid died?”

Emily nodded.

“That’s child abuse. Leaving those babies wrapped in blankets in a snowstorm while the adults got stoned and danced and screwed all night.”

“More like neglect.”

“Abuse,” Gina insisted. “But even neglect, it’s your job to report it. You are going to warn the cops, aren’t you? Or at least that probation officer you met today?”

“This stuff freaks me out. I can’t think straight about it.”

“You’ve got to.” Gina said. “If you don’t let someone know, someone in authority, and something bad happens, then you could be an accessory to the crime. You could lose your job. Maybe face charges yourself.”

Emily placed her mug on the table, then put her face into both hands. Gina touched her shoulder, but Emily shrugged her off.

Gina leaned closer. “Talk to me, Emily. What is it about Pippa that gets to you so much that you’d take her to the park when you know she’s supposed to go right back to her house? That you would consider keeping her secrets, when they’re against the law?”

Emily said nothing, just shook her head slightly.

“Okay. I get it that you don’t want to talk about growing up, that something bad happened to you. But you got where you are today by your own efforts. Same as me. And there’s no way on earth I would risk my nursing license for some runaway who worships an ancient Egyptian goddess. Maybe that’s small-minded of me, but it’s the truth.”

Emily spoke into the cave of her hands. “Pippa isn’t a bad person. Her group is not being treated well. I don’t know if it’s their religion, or race, or just that they’re different.”

“Is this a race thing, why you want to help Pippa? Who’s black in that household?”

“Pippa’s white. Tian and the other guy are black. I think Murphy, the mother of the boy who died, is black too. I’m not sure about the rest.”

The toot of the school bus startled them both. Emily stood up. “That’s Zoe.”

Gina watched through the porch window as Emily helped Zoe with her backpack. Was Emily content to take care of other people’s children her whole life? Then Zoe burst onto the sun porch, a purple stuffed animal tucked into the basket attached to one crutch. Emily followed holding a box of graham crackers and a jar of peanut butter.

“Don’t forget my cath.” Zoe put her hands on her hips in a perfect adult mimic. Gina had never seen Emily do that. It must be Zoe’s mother’s gesture. Anna.

“In just a minute,” Emily said, dipping each corner of the graham crackers into the peanut butter and arranging them in a semicircle on Zoe’s plate. “We have company. Do you remember meeting Gina and her boys at my office picnic in July?”

“I remember Sammy, ’cause he has the same name as my dad. I want tea too.”

“Please?”

“Pretty please.”

While Emily was in the kitchen, Gina told Zoe about the trip her boys were planning to visit their cousins in Ocho Rios over Christmas.

“I want to go to Jamaica,” Zoe announced, as Emily handed her a Big Bird mug. “It’s summertime there at Chanukah.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emily said, stirring two teaspoons of tea and two of sugar into the warm milk.

Gina looked at the sweet milky liquid, raising her eyebrows.

“My momma used to make me coffee like this, when I was little.” Emily turned back to Zoe. “Drink up. You need to cath, then do exercises.”

Zoe drained her tea in one long drink. “Can I watch cartoons while I stretch?”

“Okay, but cath first. Call me if you need help. I want to talk with Gina for a few minutes.” They watched the girl’s progress through the kitchen and into the hallway.

Gina smiled at Emily. “I can see why you love her so much. Wouldn’t you like a daughter of your own?”

“You know of any available five-year-olds with sunny dispositions?”

“Ha, you’ll just have to make one of your own. But you won’t meet anyone, living here and spending all your free time with someone else’s family.” Not only Anna’s family. It was worrisome, the way Emily had gotten so sucked into Pippa’s life. “Your living arrangement is pretty bizarre, you know? Both Anna and Sam still both living in this house, owning this place together, even though they’ve been divorced for ages.”

“It works.”

“For them. I’m not so sure it works for you. Maybe it’s time you moved out and got an apartment of your own. A life of your own.”

“You mean a boyfriend?” Emily laughed, but she didn’t sound amused.

“Uh huh.”

“That hasn’t worked out so well in the past.”

“You mean that guy in Portland?”

Emily nodded. “Chad.”

“Hey, you’re the one who left him, right?” Gina didn’t know exactly what had happened; Emily wouldn’t talk about that either. “One try and you give up? You’ve got to kiss more frogs than that.” Gina could feel her voice was getting into lecture mode and she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when Emily pushed back her chair and stood up.

“I’ve got to help Zoe.”

“I can take a hint.” Gina stood too. “I’ve still got all the charting to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She touched Emily’s arm. “Thanks for the shoulder.”

Emily held the coat for Gina to put on, then hugged her. “I’m so sorry about Max.”

Gina buttoned the silver buttons slowly, trying to think what to say. “I’m worried about this business with Pippa. It’s totally different from the Mrs. Newman situation. Is Pippa worth risking your profession? Because if you get in trouble with that cult, the union can’t help you. I can’t help you. I’m not risking my nursing license for these people.”

“I’m not asking you to risk anything, Gina.”

Whoa. Gina hadn’t thought that through. If Emily didn’t tell the authorities about the nasty drugs and sex in the park and Pippa wanting to do it again, that made Emily an accessory to a crime. But now Gina knew that information too. She was a mandated reporter, they all were, required by law to fill out a 51A, to report any potential harm to a child. So did that mean that Gina would have to inform on Pippa? Which would mean implicating Emily, too? Oh, Lord, what a mess.

“Think hard about this, Emily. Because I’m not sure I can keep Pippa’s secret. Not if it means maybe hurting another baby. If you help her, you’re on your own.”