Baby Alicia Is Dying

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “It’s all right for the next day or so, but you’ll have to work it around your school schedule after that. You can’t stay away however long it takes until …” He didn’t finish his sentence, but rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “Will your aunt be there?” he finally asked.

  “Someone from ChildCare is always there. Sometimes it’s Aunt Clare.”

  “Then get your things. I’ll drop you off.”

  She grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.

  It was almost four o’clock the next afternoon when Brian found her in the ICU waiting room. “You’re missing classes, and Mr. Redding isn’t feeling too sympathetic.” He leaned against the door-jamb, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I don’t care about biology. I don’t care about anything but Alicia.”

  Brian shifted. “He said that if we did a special project, we could get extra points and that would make up for your absences.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  His sudden interest in a biology project made her angry. “When I wanted to do a project, you backed out. Now you suddenly want to do one because our grade is taking a nosedive. What gives with you?” Before he could answer, she added, “If we did anything, it would have to be about AIDS. I don’t have the time to research anything else right now. Take it or leave it.”

  He rotated his massive shoulders as if to release tension. “Desi, I want to explain about what I told you—or didn’t tell you, actually—about doing a project on AIDS.”

  “I’m not in the mood.” She knew she was acting testy, but didn’t care.

  Brian looked up and down the corridor, at the nurses’ station and the activity. “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “I want to tell you something really personal.”

  She was hesitant to leave, but he looked so determined, she couldn’t tell him no. “There’s a chapel downstairs.”

  They went down in the elevator to a room where a stained-glass window cast blue light over a few wooden pews. They were alone in the tiny inter-faith chapel.

  “Do you come here much?” Brian asked.

  “Just when I want to take a break, or whenever I need to get myself together.” They walked to the front and sat in a pew that faced a painting of sparrows flitting through green trees. For some reason the tiny birds reminded her of Alicia. “You said you wanted to tell me something. I don’t want to be away from Alicia for too long, so if you could just tell me …”

  He hunched forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I wanted to tell you why I didn’t want to do a project on AIDS.”

  “It’s not important now.”

  “I wanted to tell you that day at the park, after you found the message on your locker.”

  She turned sideways in the pew, facing him, feeling impatient, wishing she were back upstairs. “You always act understanding and never seem to mind that I volunteer at ChildCare. I never thought the subject of AIDS bothers you.”

  “Oh, it bothers me all right.”

  “Since when?”

  “Ever since my uncle died from it, two years ago.” Brian was staring down at his hands.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood.”

  “Would you? My uncle was gay. He loved men. He caught AIDS from having unprotected sex, and he died.”

  Despite everything she knew about AIDS, his news upset her. Partly because she could see how painful it was for Brian to discuss it. “You should have said something. I thought we were friends.”

  “How could I? I’ve had a hard time accepting it myself. Not only because he was homosexual, but because he died.”

  “Were you close to your uncle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I still don’t understand about the biology project. If you know all about AIDS, then why didn’t you want to work on a project about it?”

  He shrugged, causing the blue sunbeams to creep farther down his back. “Doing the project would only have reminded me of how badly I treated him.”

  “How so?”

  “When we first found out about Uncle Mark’s AIDS, I was thirteen. Man, I torqued out. He was like a father to me—my hero.” The phrase sounded sarcastic. “He was thirty, good-looking, had a good job. And he played basketball with me, and racketball, and took me camping—did all the things my father never did because he lived so far away. I thought Uncle Mark was the greatest man alive.

  “Mom was his sister, and the night he told us about being sick, I lost it. I called him a bunch of names and ran off. I know I hurt him—I meant to.”

  “Didn’t you ever tell him you were sorry?”

  “No. I wrote him off. Mom tried to help me understand, but I tuned her out. He moved to New York City so as not to be a bother to us. Mom kept in touch. Eventually he ended up in an AIDS hospice up there. He wrote me, but I tore up his letters. All I could think was ‘What if my friends find out?’ The whole time he was sick I never contacted him. I took the job in the health club so I could stay busy and not have to think about him.”

  “You told me it helped you blow off steam.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. I blew off a lot of it over the two years he was sick. I felt like he’d betrayed me—lied to me about who and what he was. In the end he contracted pneumonia, went down to ninety pounds, and couldn’t swallow. He died at the hospice with no family around him. I’ll never forget the day they called and told us. Mom was a mess. She flew up for his funeral, but even then I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  Desi felt sorry for Brian. For his mom and for his dead uncle too. “I’m sure they took good care of him at the hospice.”

  “It’s not the same as being with your family. And now that he’s dead, he’ll never know how sorry I am that I treated him the way I did.”

  Brian buried his face in his hands. Desi wasn’t sure she could handle any more sadness; she’d had enough to last her a lifetime. “You can’t hate yourself forever.”

  “I know. But even after all this time, I’m still angry with him for getting sick.”

  “You never acted angry toward Alicia.”

  “Because Alicia never had a choice. My uncle did. He knew the risk he was taking, but he took it anyway.” He stared down at his hands, stained blue by the light from the window.

  “The way Alicia’s mother had a choice about using drugs. I know what you mean.” Desi nodded solemnly. What she also knew, but didn’t say aloud, was that Alicia’s mother also had a choice about having sex. Everyone did. But Desi saw clearly that sex had consequences—especially for those too immature to handle the responsibility. Suddenly she understood that mature love, marriage, and having babies was truly a logical progression, a natural order that got all out of whack when people jumped into a sexual relationship outside of the framework. For Alicia’s mother the leap into sex and drugs meant forever changing the course of her own life, as well as saddling an innocent baby with a terrible burden. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  Desi gave Brian a sideways glance, understanding his anguish over his uncle and the choices the man had made. “Sadie said that sometimes when you do something, you don’t necessarily think about its hurting someone else. You’re only thinking about yourself and what you want.”

  Brian heaved a sigh and hooked his elbows over the top of the pew. “When I heard about Alicia’s being in the hospital, I felt that I had to tell you about my uncle. I felt I owed it to you. I’ve never told any of my friends.” He paused. “Anyway, if you want to tackle the project for extra credit—”

  “It doesn’t matter to me. We’ll pass biology, no matter what.”

  “That’s all I wanted to do anyway,” Brian admitted. “But you—well, you’re smart, and I shouldn’t hold you back. You deserve an A.” He reached out and tucked some of her hair behind one ear. His touch caused goose bumps to shiver up her arm. “Tell me what to do to h
elp.”

  “I can’t think about it today. Maybe later.”

  He stood and pulled her up. “Fair enough, but when you are ready to think about it, let me know. If it’s okay, I’d like to call and keep checking on Alicia.” His kindness reached down into her heart, and she felt a gratitude she couldn’t express. “Look, I know you want to get back upstairs.”

  “Alicia seems less agitated whenever I’m allowed to be with her,” she replied. “They only let me into ICU for five minutes every hour.”

  “I guess you really are like a mother to her.”

  They parted at the elevator door. When Desi arrived back in the ICU waiting area, she discovered Gayle pacing the floor. “Alicia’s taken a turn for the worse,” Gayle said, her voice quivering. “It’s just a matter of time before we lose her.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alicia was transferred to a sterile, plastic isolette. The hard protective shell contained a pair of rubber gloves that hung to the inside of the unit, and whenever Alicia needed attending, nurses placed their hands inside the gloves and took care of her. “She must be safeguarded against all germs,” Aunt Clare told Desi.

  Alicia looked frailer and thinner with each day. Her once round cheeks became wasted, her rib cage jutted outward, and her arms and legs erupted with sores and lesions. She wore only a diaper and was wired with a maze of tubes hooked to machines that stood in a circle around her isolette. “Can I touch her?” Desi asked.

  “Only with the gloves.”

  Desi slipped her hands inside the unit and cupped Alicia’s small head in her hand. The infant barely moved. Desi hated touching Alicia this way. The rubber acted as a barrier. “Why doesn’t she look at me? Doesn’t she know I’m here?”

  “She’s in a semicoma state,” Aunt Clare explained. “But I think she knows you’re here.”

  Desi felt a tear trickle down her cheek, but didn’t want to pull her hand out of the glove to wipe it away. “She’s too little to be so sick. Does she hurt?”

  “She’s on pain medications.”

  “I’ve read about new drugs—experimental ones. Are the doctors trying them on Alicia? They should,” Desi insisted.

  “Everything possible is being done for her. Nothing can cure AIDS yet, Desi.”

  There had to be more the doctors could do. “And the coma … will she come out of it?”

  “They don’t know. Life is very tenacious, Desi. It holds on and hates to let go.”

  “But it will let go, won’t it?” Desi stroked the baby’s body tenderly. “I love her so much. We clicked the moment we met. Being with Alicia has meant everything. She’s always had a smile for me. She’s always wanted me to hold her.”

  “It’s no secret that the two of you have had something unique and special.”

  “Maybe I’ve been wrong to care about her so much.” Desi’s voice fell to an anguished whisper. “Maybe if I didn’t care so much, this wouldn’t hurt so bad.”

  “Of course you haven’t been wrong. Love takes risks, Desi, even against impossible odds. That’s what real love is all about.” Aunt Clare slipped her arm around Desi’s shoulders and guided her toward the door. “Come on, honey.”

  Tamara was waiting in the hallway when Desi stepped out of the ICU. They fell into each others arms. “Why is this happening to Alicia?” Desi sobbed. “She’s never hurt anybody. It isn’t fair.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Tamara replied in a shaky voice. “I’ve asked Daddy the same thing, and he says that sometimes there are no answers, that sometimes we have to leave things to heaven and just believe that someone bigger and smarter than us has life under control. The only thing we can do is love each other and be there for each other through the parts we don’t understand.”

  Desi longed to believe that Alicia’s cruel death could make sense, but she could not. Until now Desi had led an ordinary, uneventful life. Without Alicia how could she go back to it? Yet as long as Alicia was alive, Desi knew she couldn’t leave her. As long as the baby hung on, there was hope. Desi clung to her dream of a miracle as a lifeline.

  That evening Aunt Clare drove her home. “I want to come live with you until this is over,” Desi told her when the car rolled into her driveway.

  “But why?”

  “Because all Mom and I do is fight about the time I spend at the hospital. She drove me once to visit Alicia, and I thought she might be coming around, but the sicker Alicia gets, the more uptight Mom becomes.”

  “I can’t believe—”

  “Believe it,” Desi insisted. “The other morning she and Dad argued about it too. She thinks it’s unhealthy for me to be hanging around a dying baby. Why is she so insensitive?”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t mean to be.”

  “She hates me, Aunt Clare. She’s always hated me. I’m not like Valerie, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me and the things I care about.”

  “Oh, honey—”

  Desi didn’t wait for her to finish. She jumped out of the car and hurried into the house. Her mother was sitting in the living room watching TV. She looked up as Desi sped past and took the stairs two at a time. Alone in her bedroom Desi paced like a caged animal. If she could have her way about it, she’d move into the hospital. Of course that was impossible, but if she couldn’t stay with her aunt, then maybe she could stay with Gayle or at the ChildCare house. There had to be some way—

  She heard loud voices coming from below, her mother and her aunt arguing. Heart thudding, Desi crept down the stairs to the living room. She hung back in the shadows of the doorway, watching and listening.

  “It’s out of the question. Desi has a perfectly fine home right here,” her mother was saying to her aunt.

  “These are unusual circumstances, Eva. The girl wants to be around Alicia more. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I think the whole thing’s bizarre. Good heavens! Desi’s not quite fifteen, and she’s totally preoccupied with a sick, dying baby. It’s macabre. And it’s your fault.”

  “Oh really!” Aunt Clare sounded disgusted. “Desi’s not some empty-headed piece of fluff, you know. She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself what she wants to do with her time.”

  Desi watched her mother advance toward her aunt. “How can she know? She’s never tried one other thing at high school this year. It’s all been that house and that baby since September.”

  “Listen to yourself! You’re laying out her life to your standards. Maybe she likes working at ChildCare. Maybe she likes making her own decisions. Maybe she wants to do something meaningful with her life.”

  “How do you know what she wants? Or what’s good for her?”

  “Because I talk to her. I listen to her.”

  By now the sisters were practically nose to nose. “Get something straight, Clare. She’s my daughter, not yours.”

  Desi saw her aunt flinch. “I know she’s your daughter. You never let me forget it.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t always poking your nose in between us, she’d be talking to me instead of you.”

  “Why should she?” Aunt Clare countered. “What encouragement have you ever given her?”

  “You’re always there to take up the slack. Always hovering in the wings, trying to take over my role.”

  “What a hateful thing to say. Desi needs me.”

  “And you’re always there for her, aren’t you? You’re the ever present, ever attentive aunt—full of suggestions for how she should spend her free time. Why, you even have a room in your home set aside for her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve sapped Desi’s and my relationship for years. Maybe if you weren’t so available, she’d turn to her mother for some things.” Her mother balled her fists at her side. “You can’t ever make up for what happened sixteen years ago, so stop trying.”

  Desi saw all the color drain from her aunt’s face. “So we’re back to that night, are we? When are you going to forgive me—forgive yourself—for so
mething that wasn’t anybody’s fault?” What are they talking about? Desi wondered. She heard her aunt continue, “You’re not the only person in the universe to suffer a tragedy, you know, Eva. I lost someone I loved too. At least you have two daughters to fill up your life, even if you don’t appreciate them the way you should.” By now Aunt Clare was weeping.

  Unable to take another minute of their fight, Desi hurried through the doorway. “Stop it. Stop yelling at each other.” Both women whirled toward her. Desi started to cry, even though more than anything, she wanted to be strong. “Mom, Alicia’s so sick, and I want to spend every minute with her. I can’t just disappear from her life when she needs me. Why can’t you see that?”

  Tears slid down her mother’s cheeks. “I just don’t want you hurt. You’re still a girl, not a mother. You shouldn’t have to experience such an awful thing.”

  “I already hurt like crazy. Please think about it, Mom. What will hurt me the most? Alicia’s dying? Or Alicia’s dying without my being with her?”

  Her mother didn’t answer. She stood clenching and unclenching her fists, her face wet with tears.

  Desi turned toward her aunt. “Please take me back to the hospital, Aunt Clare. I can’t stand being in this house one more minute.”

  She didn’t wait for her aunt to answer, but brushed past her mother, ran outside into the frosty night, jerked open the car door, and climbed inside. She was so cold, her teeth chattered.

  Moments later her aunt got into the car and turned on the engine. She was crying hard. “I’ll drop you off and come back later,” she told Desi.

  “Can’t you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I have to get myself together. I’ll be back in a while.”

  Desi nodded numbly, unable to sort through what she’d heard pass between her mother and aunt. She didn’t understand. All she knew was that Alicia needed her, and that she needed be with her baby. No one was going to stop her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Desi sat staring at the cold, hard floor of the ICU waiting room. Her arms rested on her knees, and her head drooped listlessly. She was the only person around except for the night nurses. She was tired, so tired. Yet she couldn’t sleep. It would be another forty-five minutes before she could get in to see Alicia. At four o’clock in the morning there wasn’t anything on TV to occupy her either. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. And ache.