Baby Alicia Is Dying

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “You’re really crazy about this little girl, aren’t you?”

  “She’s so darling, Val. I can’t help myself.” Desi folded the dress lovingly and placed it inside a box. “I’m telling you, the time I spend down at ChildCare is the best time of my life. You always had tennis, but I’ve never had anything that meant as much to me. I just wish Mom could be more understanding about it.”

  “Actually I think she wants me to try to persuade you to give it up.”

  Desi looked up quickly. “Don’t even bother. I’ll never leave Alicia.”

  “Maybe you should put yourself in Mom’s place.”

  “Maybe she should put herself in my place,” Desi countered.

  “Aren’t you afraid of AIDS?”

  “Are you afraid of that guy in your class who has AIDS?” Desi watched her sister’s slender fingers roll ribbon back onto a spool.

  “I feel sorry for Ted, but I am a little bit scared whenever I’m around him. It’s not a rational fear,” she added when Desi started to protest. “It’s a deep-down, dark kind of fear. I wish I weren’t afraid. But I know what this guy’s future is. I’ve seen pictures of people in advanced stages of AIDS, and it’s pretty grim. Ted still keeps trying to lead a regular life though. He goes to classes, he has his own apartment off campus. He has a few friends. Once in the student union I caught him staring at me. He looked so sad.”

  “You can talk to him and be his friend. You don’t have to date him or anything,” Desi urged, feeling sympathetic.

  Val shook her head. “I’m no good at hiding my feelings. He’ll always know that I’m really feeling revulsion. I’m sorry. I wish I felt differently, but I don’t.”

  “Well, I’m not afraid,” Desi insisted.

  “I admire you.”

  Val’s admission took Desi by surprise. She was the one who’d always envied and admired Val. Self-consciously she shifted, grabbed up her sack, and pulled out another gift. “See what else I got Alicia.”

  “A baby book! Oh, Desi, how cute.” Val ran her palm over the pale pink cover. “Look at the teddy bears.” She thumbed through the stiff, decorated pages. “How will you know what to fill in about Alicia’s birth statistics?”

  “Alicia was born at County Hospital, so between Gayle and Aunt Clare I think I can get the info I need.”

  “You know what might be fun? Let’s drag out our old baby books and see what Mom wrote in them.”

  “I’ve never seen them. Do you know where they are?”

  Val drummed her fingers. “I think so. Come on.”

  Desi followed her sister downstairs into the den, where their parents kept their paperwork and personal files. The room looked in need of straightening, but their father had flatly refused his wife’s pleas to redecorate. “This is my realm, Eva,” he’d said. “I want someplace in my own house that feels like the inside of my bedroom slippers, not a page out of some decorator’s magazine.”

  Their mother had consented, but usually kept the door closed. Once inside, Val started rummaging through the bookcase. “I noticed our baby books on the shelf ages ago. They were up near the top.” She rose to her tiptoes. “Ah! Here they are.”

  She dragged them off in a clump, and sat down on the floor. Eagerly Desi sat beside her. Val blew dust off the tops. “There are three of them,” she said quietly.

  Desi’s heart thudded. Sure enough, Val laid out three books on the beige carpet—two pink and a blue. Desi barely saw hers and Val’s. Her attention zeroed in on the blue one. The girls glanced at each other. “I didn’t know Mom kept one on the other baby.” She felt acutely uncomfortable, as if she was looking at something forbidden.

  “Me either.” Val flipped it open. “ ‘Matthew Jeremy Mitchell,’ ” she read aloud. The ink had faded, making the name appear as ghostly as the child. The date of his birth had been recorded, along with his weight and length, but nothing else.

  “It’s a nice name. Do you remember him at all?” Desi asked.

  Val concentrated hard. “All I remember is being afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—” Val ran her hand across her eyes, as if the memory was hurting her. “Because mom cried all the time. I was only two, you know, but I still remember her crying for days and days, and how scared I was because she wouldn’t stop crying.”

  “And I didn’t even exist,” Desi observed.

  “I do remember when you were born though.” Val shoved aside the blue baby book and picked up Desi’s.

  “Did Mom and Dad hire a band?”

  “No … In fact they were sort of quiet about it.”

  “Quiet?”

  “I remember I was really excited—Aunt Clare too. I thought you were going to be my own personal baby doll. Little did I know that real babies cried a lot at night.”

  Val giggled, and Desi tried to act silly about it too, but it bothered her knowing that her parents hadn’t been very enthusiastic about her arrival. “Of course that was so long ago,” Val continued. “I was four when they brought you home from the hospital. You were tiny and wrinkled-looking … and you screamed most nights.” She put her hands over her ears, and Desi almost felt that she should apologize for having kept her sister awake. “Aunt Clare called you ‘colicky.’ I remember the word because it was one of the first grown-up words I could pronounce. She used to visit, and we played with you.”

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “I just recall bits and pieces. Besides, by then I was the big girl, according to Aunt Clare, and you were the baby. I remember how Aunt Clare and I walked you in your stroller in the park.”

  On the inside Desi was a turmoil of emotions. It hurt realizing that her mother had ignored her as a baby and that Valerie actually had been the favorite all her life. At least Aunt Clare had always cared.

  She leaned over to view her baby book, and with surprise saw that most of the pages were blank. “There’s not much written in it,” she mumbled, her hurt dissolving into embarrassment.

  She picked up Val’s. Every page was filled. Val’s first tooth. Val’s first birthday. A silken lock of hair from Val’s first haircut. With a nervous laugh Val shut the book. “Goodness, doesn’t it just go to show you how busy Mom was by the time you came along.”

  How long could it take to jot down a few words, Desi thought. She said, “I guess so,” and stared uncomfortably at the floor. “All the more reason to keep a book for Alicia,” she added., “Someday she’ll be glad that somebody cared enough to go to the trouble.”

  The door to the den swung open. “Val, I’ve been looking for you. Your wash is clean and—” The sentence died on their mother’s lips as she took in the scene and spied the baby books spread out on the floor. “What are you two doing?” Her eyes narrowed, and both girls hurriedly grabbed for the three books.

  “Taking a trip down memory lane,” Val offered cheerfully, standing.

  “Where did you find those?”

  “On the bookshelves.” Val motioned over her shoulder, stacked the books, and reached to put them away.

  “Why did you want to see them?”

  Desi saw that the color had left her mother’s face, making Desi feel guilty of doing something wrong. “I bought Alicia a baby book,” she began to explain. “We were just looking through ours to see how you kept them for us.” She wondered if her mother remembered that hers was practically blank.

  “Alicia! I swear, Desi, that’s all I ever hear from you. Your life is totally taken over by that baby, and I don’t like it one bit.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Now you’re spending your allowance on her. Just throwing it away.”

  “That’s not so.”

  “I’m tired of discussing it.” Her mother silenced Desi with a stern look and turned to Valerie. “I’d like you to come help me sort through your laundry. You might not want to take everything back to school, since you’ll be home for Christmas in a few weeks. I’ll be in your room.” Sh
e didn’t wait for Valerie to respond. She left the den with a firm jerk on the doorknob.

  Valerie turned toward Desi, her expression stunned. “I can’t remember ever seeing her so angry. Mom’s really against your ChildCare work. Maybe you had better reconsider what you’re doing, Desi.”

  Still feeling the sting of her mother’s rebuke, Desi said nothing. Val quickly ran up to her room, leaving Desi to return the books to the shelves. Holding Alicia’s baby book tightly, Desi kept seeing the stricken look on her mother’s face. Something else was going on with her mother besides objections to Desi’s volunteer work at ChildCare. Desi couldn’t imagine what it was, but she was certain it was something very serious.

  Chapter Twelve

  “That’s not the way you hang tinsel. You have to drape it carefully across each branch.” Tamara demonstrated by placing a single strand of tinsel over the partially decorated tree standing in the ChildCare living room.

  “We’ll be here all night if we do it that way,” Sadie fussed, but she followed Tamara’s example.

  Desi stood back and surveyed their handiwork. The giant spruce filled the bay window, and its fragrance mingled with those coming from the kitchen, where the volunteers and staff of ChildCare had gathered for a small Christmas party. “I think the tree looks fabulous,” she announced.

  Sadie harumphed, while Tamara rehung a clump of tinsel. “It’s getting there,” Tamara insisted.

  “Are you all still fiddling with that tree?” Gayle asked, breezing into the room. “It’ll be July before you get it finished at this pace,” she joked. Dwayne groped for a glass ball, but Gayle held him back. “No way, buster.”

  Desi jiggled the infant walker at her feet, where Alicia sat. Desi stooped and rubbed noses with the baby. The infant craned her neck to see the tree. “You like that tree, darling?”

  Alicia’s tiny hand reached upward, as if to snare the glittering light beams. “There’s a present under it just for you,” Desi told her. Alicia kept her eyes on the tree, and Desi scooted across the rug and retrieved the silver foil box she’d wrapped the baby’s red velvet dress in.

  She held the box in front of the walker, and Alicia studied it for a moment, then tugged at the blue-and-silver bow. Desi laughed. “Not yet, sweetie. You have to wait until Christmas.”

  Tamara crouched next to her on the carpet. “What did you buy her?” Desi described the dress in great detail, and Tamara exclaimed, “Sounds gorgeous.”

  “There’s room for her to grow too, so she should be able to wear it for quite some time.” Because of the reading she was doing, Desi knew that Alicia was both underweight and small for her age, as were most HIV-positive babies.

  “By next Christmas it’ll be out of fashion and you’ll buy her something new,” Tamara kidded as she draped tinsel over her ears and shook her head to make it dance. Alicia laughed.

  “I bought her a baby book too.”

  “That’s a neat idea. Maybe I’ll get one for Heather.”

  “I thought Gayle could help me fill in the blanks.”

  “What’s Santa going to bring Desi for Christmas?” Tamara asked as she placed the gift back under the tree for Desi.

  “Clothes, I guess. You know, the usual.”

  “Me too. At least I hope so. You’re lucky that you don’t have a bunch of sisters competing for Santa’s bag.”

  “No, just Valerie,” Desi said, but couldn’t help thinking about Matthew Jeremy. What would she have given to a sixteen-year-old brother?

  “Well I know one thing I wish Santa would give me for Christmas,” Tamara continued. “I wish he’d give me a boyfriend.”

  She sounded so emphatic that Desi giggled. “Why?”

  “Come on, girl! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want someone special putting goodies into your Christmas stocking.”

  Still amused, Desi shook her head. “No way. I’ve got big plans for my life.”

  “You don’t want to get married?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “But I’ve seen you with Alicia. Don’t tell me you don’t want a baby!”

  Desi didn’t know how to answer her. In the months she’d been a volunteer at ChildCare, she’d felt things she’d never expected to feel. “All these babies are mine. And I didn’t have to get married to have them.”

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “Talk about vicarious living!”

  Both girls erupted into laughter. Alicia glanced from one to the other, squealing and waving her hands. Desi hugged her impulsively.

  Gayle came over to where they were sitting. “What’s making the three of you so happy?”

  “Christmas cheer,” Desi answered.

  “Why don’t you all come into the kitchen for a minute. We’ve just made some hot apple cider, and there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Desi hauled Alicia from the stroller, and cuddling her close, followed Tamara and Gayle into the brightly lit kitchen. People stood in clusters, drinking cider and munching decorated cookies. The sweet smells of sugar and cinnamon tickled Desi’s nose.

  “I want you to meet a friend of mine, Elizabeth Harris. She’s a reporter for the Atlanta Journal.” Gayle named the city’s largest newspaper and motioned to an attractive young blond woman.

  “Hi.” Elizabeth shook both girls’ hands and made a fuss over Alicia. “Gayle tells me you’re both volunteers. I’d like to interview and photograph you for a feature story I’m doing for next Sunday’s edition of the paper. Would you mind?”

  Desi exchanged glances with Tamara. “I’d love it,” Tamara said eagerly. Desi was hesitant as she considered her mother’s possible reaction.

  Gayle touched her shoulder. “Now I know I fussed at you about bringing strangers into the house a few weeks ago, but Liz is no novice. She’s been covering the medical scene in Atlanta for years.”

  “It’s okay,” Desi started, realizing Gayle couldn’t possibly know her true reason for vacillating.

  “It’s just that we depend so much on community support,” Gayle continued earnestly. “It goes beyond caring for the babies. We have to maintain the house and the grounds, as well as look to the future. One day we’ll need playground equipment for these kids.”

  “Since Christmas is the perfect time for giving—” Elizabeth added with a happy shrug, “Gayle thought a feature story would help bring in more money and helpers. But reporters always look for a good angle, and I think a feature on you two—on kids helping babies—would be a terrific approach. What do you say?”

  If it would help ChildCare and Alicia, Desi knew she couldn’t refuse. Besides, Tamara was practically bursting to be interviewed. “Good,” the attractive reporter said when both girls nodded. “While I’m interviewing you, Dave here will take some photos.”

  Stuffing the remains of a cookie in his mouth, the photographer began snapping photos. For the next twenty minutes Desi and Tamara answered dozens of questions, and by the time they were through, Alicia had fallen fast asleep on Desi’s shoulder. “I guess I need to get her to bed,” she told Elizabeth.

  “I guess you do,” Elizabeth said as Dave took one final photo.

  Gently Desi carried the sleeping baby into her bedroom, laid her down, and covered her with her favorite flannel blanket. A night light glowed from the wall, thrusting shadows away from the crib with its pale yellow hue.

  Alicia’s eyelids fluttered open, and when the baby saw Desi’s face, they swept downward and closed in peaceful sleep. Desi caressed the soft cheek lovingly and tiptoed from the room with the sweet scent of baby’s breath clinging to her heart.

  “Can I eat lunch with you?” Corrine asked above the noise in the school cafeteria.

  Desi stopped chewing and glanced up from the book she was reading, surprised. “Suit yourself,” she said, and went back to her book.

  “I saw the article in the newspaper. It was pretty interesting.”

  “Thanks.” She continued to chew without looking up. Actually she’d known she’d been a topic of conversa
tion in the halls all morning.

  “Some of my friends told me they thought it was pretty awesome. Not just the article, but the volunteering bit too.” Corrine toyed with the food on her plate as she spoke.

  “I think that the reporter did a good job of explaining about the babies,” Desi said, skimming a page in her book without really reading the words. “Especially about what’s probably ahead for them if they contract AIDS.”

  “Yes. The story sure was informative.”

  Desi finally looked up at Corrine. “Do you want something special?”

  Her old friend reddened. “I’ve been sort of missing you, that’s all.” Desi arched an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. “I haven’t been much of a friend lately. I admit I was put off by your volunteer work. That and the fact that my mother had an anxiety attack when she heard you worked with AIDS babies. She didn’t want me hanging around with you.”

  “You could have said something to me and been honest instead of ignoring me. Our friendship should have counted for something.”

  “You’re right. I should have.” Corrine looked miserable, and Desi’s iciness toward her was almost thawing. “I’m really sorry, Desi. I should have been a better friend, and I was hoping we could still be friends.”

  “What about Randy, the love of your life?” Desi wasn’t sure she was ready to completely forgive Corrine.

  “We’re history.”

  All around them the lunchroom clattered with the sounds of trays and silverware, of talking and laughter, but between them there was silence. Desi broke it. “I’m still working with Alicia. Nothing’s changed in that way.”

  “The baby in the article—yes. Alicia’s pretty cute.”

  “So I still won’t have the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval for your mother’s benefit. How’s she going to react if we start hanging around together again?”

  “Mom read the article too, and I think she understands better.” Desi wished her own mother understood better. When she’d read the article, all she’d done was moan about how everybody in town would know about her daughter’s association with AIDS. It really hurt knowing that her mother cared more about what people thought than about Desi’s feelings. Her dad had acted better—even proud of her. Brian had been great. The moment she’d come into biology class that morning, he’d smiled and given her a thumb’s-up signal.