“I am.”
Gayle came over and invited them all inside out of the cold. “I’d like to show you around, Mrs. Mitchell. The babies are napping now, and you can see our home and where Desi’s worked all these months.”
Desi motioned for them to go on because she knew that she couldn’t go back inside. She couldn’t stand to see the rooms, the furniture, the place where Alicia once lived and laughed. “I’d like to be alone for a while,” she told her mother.
“Are you certain?”
“I feel like walking around the grounds.”
“I won’t be long,” her mother assured her.
Desi watched her mother enter the house, then strolled aimlessly to the outer edges of the property, where the brick wall rose to block off the street. She kicked at a clump of earth and tried to think about what she knew she had to do. She had to go back to school and finish the term. She had to think about English and biology and math and … A tear slid down her cheek. How could she?
“Are you Desi?” The soft accented voice came from behind her. Startled, she spun, and her eyes opened wide in recognition. “They say you’re the one who stuck with my baby till the end.” The young girl tipped her head shyly. “I’m Sherrie. I was Alicia’s mama.”
“I didn’t see you at the service.”
“I was there.” Her large, dark eyes seemed to fill her small face. “I saw my baby at the funeral home before they closed up her coffin and took her away. That was a fine dress you picked out for her. She looked real pretty. Like a baby doll.”
Unsure of how to respond, Desi only nodded. Sherrie continued. “I don’t want you to be thinking I was a bad mama. I loved my little girl. I couldn’t take care of her ’cause I was sick for a long time. I’m not using drugs no more, and the doctors … well … they got me taking AZT and other medicine to keep my sickness in control.”
With a sinking feeling, Desi realized that Sherrie was as infected with HIV as Alicia had been. As Brian’s uncle had been. The fact that the girl had cleaned up her life wasn’t going to take away the terrible illness that faced her. Desi swallowed hard and mumbled, “I’m glad for you.”
“I don’t want you thinking that I meant to give my baby AIDS either.”
“I never figured you did.”
The wind blew Sherrie’s short hair, and she reached up and poked it behind her ear. “I’ve been getting myself back together. I’m going back to high school this summer.” She held her head high, as if proud of her choice.
Desi recalled all the venomous thoughts she’d held toward Sherrie. She remembered spying on her and Alicia in the park, and she remembered how afraid she’d been that Sherrie would reclaim her daughter. Now, looking at the slender teen, her smooth, brown skin, her plain clothing and unaffected expression, Desi felt no more animosity toward her. As Desi considered Sherrie’s future and the possibilities that it held, she felt respect for the girl. Choosing to do something worthwhile for herself instead of dropping back into her old lifestyle took courage. “I hope you get your diploma,” she told Sherrie.
“I was going to take my baby back and raise her up and give her a good home. When the social worker called me and said my baby was in the hospital dying …” Sherrie hugged her arms to her chest and turned her eyes heavenward. “I got to see her once before she got sick. I got to hold her when the social worker brought her to me for a visit. It was at a nice park.” For a moment Sherrie looked thoughtful. “I’ll bet you dressed her to come see me that time, didn’t you?”
Mutely Desi nodded.
“Anyway that’s how I wanted to remember her. All pretty like she was at the funeral home. Not sick like I knew she’d be in the hospital. You know what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Desi assured Sherrie she understood. She said, “I really cared about Alicia. She was special.”
“Yes, she was special, wasn’t she?”
Desi heard her mother call to her from the driveway and told Sherrie, “I have to go.”
“Well, I’m glad I got to say thank you for helping Alicia. Thank you for taking care of her when I couldn’t.”
Desi told Sherrie good-bye and hurried over to her mother. “I want to go home.”
“Are you all right?”
Her teeth chattered. “I’m cold.”
In the car her mother turned up the heater. “I’m impressed with the facility, Desi. It’s amazing what they’ve done strictly through donations. Gayle seems very competent. She told me how much she likes you and how pleased she is to have you working there.”
Desi stared out the window. Her mother gave her a sideways glance. “I know I argued against your working there. I should have been more understanding. I won’t bother you anymore about your volunteer work at ChildCare.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m through with it.”
“Through?”
“Now that Alicia’s gone, I don’t want to go back. I know there are other babies who need to be cared for, but it’s over for me.”
“I see.” They rode in silence until her mother broke it. “You may change your mind.”
“No. I can’t go back.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and the scenery became a blur. She held her hands in front of the heater. The warm air flowed over them, but still she shivered. Alicia was gone, and so was Desi’s desire to be a part of charity work. It was a fact—babies with AIDS died. There was no need for her to think anything she could do could ever make a difference. No need at all.
Chapter Twenty
The hot May sun beat down on Desi’s head and shoulders. From her seat in the grandstand she could see the tennis court perfectly. Valerie volleyed a ball over the net, and Desi nervously reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed it. One more point, and Val would win. She heard the thwack of the yellow ball on the racket, watched it clear the net, saw Val’s opponent return it, and then saw Val deliver a wicked forehand that slammed the ball to the backside of the court far out of her opponent’s reach. “Set point!” the announcer declared. The crowd stood and cheered.
Seeing Val win gave Desi enormous satisfaction. It meant that the University of Florida would advance to the collegiate regional championships and that Val, top seeded on her team, would be nationally ranked. Later in the locker room area, their mother exclaimed, “We’re so proud of you!” She gave Val a hug.
Val grinned, thrust her winner’s bouquet of roses into Desi’s arms, and said, “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”
“You’ve worked hard. You deserve it,” their mom insisted. She glanced down at her watch. “You and Desi visit one another while I go rescue your coach from your father. He was asking him a million questions about this summer. We’re both so pleased that you’ve been asked to attend the Olympic training camp. What an honor.”
Val hugged her mother and waved as she walked away.
“You’re going to the Olympic training camp?” Desi asked.
“You bet,” Val cried, pulling the rubber band from her hair and digging in her duffel bag for her brush. All around them other girls were hurriedly changing and freshening up for the long drive back to the campus.
“So I guess you feel better than you did at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Absolutely! But I think a lot of it’s because Mom’s stopped pressuring me to be perfect at tennis and my studies.” Val fluffed her long black hair and dug for a barrette. “Letting me drop a course so that I could concentrate on tennis also helped. I honestly couldn’t handle both.” Val paused thoughtfully. “She and Dad seem to be hitting it off better too. And you two are less uptight around each other. What gives?”
“She’s been trying harder lately.”
“I was surprised when she wrote that she’d dropped back to part-time work again. Do you know why?”
“She told me that she felt it was about time she and I got to know each other better. We’ve been spending more time together.”
Val wrinkled her nose. “I hope she’s not cramping your life. I mean you are in high school, with be
tter things to do than hang around with your mother.”
Desi honestly didn’t mind. How could Val understand that for Desi her mother’s attention was a welcome change? Ever since the night of Alicia’s death there had been a bond between them, a cord of understanding and mutual respect. “It’s not so bad,” she told her sister. “I’m not doing much of anything else now anyway.”
“You’ve never gone back to ChildCare?”
Desi averted her eyes and shook her head. “I couldn’t go back after Alicia died. I’m just concentrating on school. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing when it’s out for the summer.”
“Is it smart to never go back?” Val asked, hastily adding, “I know what it’s like to be pounded by an opponent. It makes me want to give up tennis forever, but I know I’d be worse off if I just quit altogether.”
Desi realized what Val was telling her. Aunt Clare had said much the same thing when Desi told her of her decision to quit her volunteer work at ChildCare. Aunt Clare had pleaded, “Don’t give up, Desi. There are babies there who need you and who will remember you if you come back.”
“All that job did was make me hurt,” Desi had insisted, struggling with the burden of guilt she felt over leaving. “It caused all sorts of trouble at home, at school, between you and Mom.”
“Ever since that night”—Aunt Clare hadn’t said “since Alicia died,” but Desi knew what night she meant—“Eva and I have worked out a lot of our differences. The argument was hard, but in the long run it served a good purpose. We’ve both been able to talk about the night Matthew died. Before now she never would.” Aunt Clare touched Desi’s arm. “You aren’t responsible for our relationship. We are. Don’t let anything keep you from coming back to ChildCare if you want to.”
“I don’t want to,” Desi said stonily. “I can’t.”
Now, in the empty locker room with Val, Desi gazed down at the fragrant bouquet of roses cradled in her arms. Even months later she still found it difficult to talk about the infant. “I miss Alicia.” The green paper wrapped around the roses rustled. “The last week or so that she lived was really hard to get through.”
“I can only imagine.” Val snapped the barrette in place. “I guess it was good that Mom came around at the end and went with you to the hospital. I don’t know how you stood it, watching that poor, sweet baby die.”
“Mom helped me a lot,” Desi replied, absently running her fingers over the deep red petals. “She understood more than I ever thought.” Desi didn’t add that they’d had many conversations about her mother’s loss of Matthew. It was as if a gate had opened in her mother’s heart and allowed her pent-up memories and feelings to pour through.
“I’m glad things are working out for you,” Val said. She zipped up her bag. “How’s that cute guy—Brian?”
“I told you—we’re just lab partners.” In truth Desi didn’t have much more to tell. Except for the extra time they’d put in on their science fair project, Desi had had little to do with Brian. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with him. She did. But she needed time for her heart to stop hurting.
“Well, I still think he’s cute, so don’t blow it.” Val stood and looked around to see that she’d gathered all her belongings. “When will you know if your project makes it to the state finals?”
“Another week.”
“I hope you go all the way.”
“Well, it’s not like winning regionals in collegiate tennis,” Desi told Val with a hint of teasing. “I’ll miss you when you go off to camp this summer,” she added.
“Oh, I’ll be home for a whole month before camp starts. Now that Mom’s taken the pressure off, I’m actually looking forward to it.”
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.
Chapter Twenty-one
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.”
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