The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

“That's all you're going to say?” Caitlin asked, reaching for the coffee.

  “What do you want me to say? I thought you were going to call him.”

  “And say what? Hi, how are you? How have you been? Oh, and by the way, I had twins this morning.”

  “I was thinking it would go something like that.”

  “Oh, Rita, don't be absurd.”

  “Please don't call me Rita.”

  “It's your name, isn't it?”

  “What happened to Mom? You called me Mom last night,” Rita complained.

  “I would have called you the mother of Christ if I thought it would have eased the pain.”

  “Oh, that's nice, Cate.”

  “Sorry, but it's true. Remember when I was a teenager and you wanted me to call you Rita?”

  “I was having a mid-life crisis then.”

  “And that's ended?”

  “Caitlin, what is this? If you're angry with Colin, or with fate, or with God, complain to them. Don't take this out on me, especially since I just damn near froze my ass off getting this expensive coffee.”

  “It was worth it, wasn't it? And, I paid.”

  “Yes, you did, and yes, it's very good,” Rita admitted.

  “I'm sorry,” Caitlin said, in little more than a whisper.

  “What was that?” Rita asked smugly.

  “I said, I'm sorry. You're right. I'm angry, and hurt, and something happened while you were gone, and I wasn't going to tell you, but.....,” Caitlin said, looking broken.

  “What happened?”

  “I saw Colin.”

  “Well good Lord, did you talk to him? Did you tell him?”

  “I saw him from the window. Actually, if you'd waited a minute or two, you would have run into him.”

  “That would have been interesting,” Rita admitted.

  “He was with a woman, and a little girl,” Caitlin said softly, and Rita sighed. She knew Caitlin's heart was breaking.

  “I'm sorry, Cate.”

  “Me too, Mom.”

  Rita could hear Caitlin crying softly, but she was at a loss for words. Colin had moved on. He'd moved on to a ready-made family, and left one behind. But in his defense he didn't know about the twins and Rita was hesitant to criticize him.

  “What are you going to do, Cate?”

  “I have to figure everything out.”

  “Caitlin,” Rita said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “What?” Caitlin asked.

  “Sometimes it isn't possible to figure everything out. Sometimes you have to go with the flow and figure things out as you go along.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yes, Cate. Like me.”

  “That's what has always driven me nuts about you. You fly by the seat of your pants. I can't seem to do that,” Caitlin said, looking guilty.

  “I like these pants,” Rita said, shrugging.

  “I do, too. They're nice pants. You know what I mean.”

  “I do. You know, Caitlin, I'm not as nonchalant as I seem. My house is paid for, my car payments are made on time, I have some money saved, and I've never once believed I have an uncle in Nigeria,” Rita said, and Caitlin smiled.

  “I'll give you credit for that.”

  “Thanks. Can you try to be a little more nonchalant, Cate? Can you try to take things a little at a time? Maybe forgive yourself for not being able to figure everything out right this minute?”

  “I can try. I just don't know what to do first.”

  “What do you want to do first?” Rita asked.

  “I guess I'll write a letter,” Caitlin said, setting the laptop aside. “Later.”

  “That might be best.”

  “I thought you said I should call him,” Caitlin questioned.

  “I did, Cate, but I admit you have a point. What in God's name do you say? Maybe it is best to write him a letter, let him read it and absorb it, and then you can talk to him.”

  “Then what do I say?” Caitlin asked rhetorically.

  “I guess you pray it comes to you,” Rita offered. “Now, what do you want for lunch? They're bringing around the lunch trays, and I admit, it smells horrid.”

  The room filled with the sound of Caitlin's laughter, and this time she didn't have to force it.

  ***

  The woman on the gurney barely resembled a human being, and the ER doctor stood over her shaking his head, amazed that someone so damaged could still be alive.

  “Do we have an ID?” the doctor asked, and the nurse beside him nodded.

  “Ella Simons,” the nurse said. “The police weren't able to pull any ID from the car. They ran the plate to come up with her name. Hopefully someone will notice she's missing. Think she'll make it?” the nurse asked.

  “It would take some kind of miracle. I'm waiting on a surgical consult to see if she's heading to surgery or ICU. She's stable, but barely,” the doctor said sadly.

  Ella Simons could hear voices but they sounded far away. What had happened? Where was she? She didn't feel anything, but she was vaguely aware of an antiseptic smell, and she wondered if she was in a hospital. Was she visiting Caitlin? Had she passed out? Suddenly it all came back, and she wanted to scream, but couldn't move. She couldn't make a sound. Was she dying? What if she did? She wanted to see the babies, just once. She wanted to see Caitlin just one more time, to tell Rita how much she'd appreciated her friendship, and how much she'd loved working for her, how much it had brought to her life. It had allowed her to stay in New Hope, Pennsylvania, to stay close to the people she loved. She wasn't ready to die. She had things she wanted to do, and in her heart she was still a young woman. Suddenly she started to cry. She felt the tears sliding down her face, and her face felt hot. It felt like it was on fire. She tried to move her mouth, to say something, to ask someone to call Rita, or Noonie, or Erica. She wanted to see Erica. Suddenly her body came back to life, each limb waking up in one fluid motion. The pain was incredible, overwhelming, and she willed herself to sink back into unconsciousness. And this time when she tried to scream, she did.

  “Doctor!” the young nurse yelled, as Ella's body began to shake violently. “She's regaining consciousness.”

  “Call for a surgical consult. Tell them we can't wait, and get me a morphine drip, stat!”

  ***

  Colin Thomas reclined in his first class seat. He closed his eyes, but couldn't quiet his thoughts. The earlier scene with Rosario played over and over again in his mind. He heard the fear in her voice, saw it in her eyes. There had been something else. The question. The one she had almost asked. She wanted Colin to raise her daughter. Suddenly he opened his eyes and sat upright in his seat. Why couldn't he?

  Colin had always known there was something about Mia. Something different. The first time he'd held her, he knew Mia needed him more than his other patients. It wasn't something he'd been able to wrap his brain around at the time. His heart, on the other hand, seemed to have the intuition his mind had lacked. If he did this, his entire life would change, but he was ready.

  He'd struggled for weeks with what to say at tomorrow's convention where he was the keynote speaker. He always said the same thing, and it seemed so old. He had an idea. He had something different. He'd talk about Rosario, about Mia. He spent his days treating a disease, the ugliness of it, the pain of it, the horror of it. This was his opportunity to treat a patient, to really make a difference. Of course not every AIDS physician would adopt a patient, or a patient's child, but he knew they could all apply a more human touch to their treatment efforts. It wasn't enough to refer patients to organizations. It wasn't enough to treat patients. He had to find a way to treat families, to treat the human spirit. He couldn't save Rosario Mariposa, but perhaps he could allow her to transition without worry, to be at peace when her amazing spirit was freed from the body that failed her

  Suddenly he was filled with enthusiasm. He wanted to get back to his life, now more than ever. He remembered talking to Caren at his answering service when she'd
started a year ago. For most of her life she had worked as a nanny, and she missed it. The children she'd loved had grown, and her service was no longer needed. He knew she didn't much care for her job, and not just because he was occasionally an asshole when she called him. She just didn't like it. It didn't fit her. She had love to give, and had given it, until it was no longer needed. He'd need her. He'd need a nanny, and he'd need a bigger apartment. That part didn't bother him at all. He hated his condo. Caitlin had hated it too, and for four years he'd spent most of his time in her apartment. His entire 1200 square feet condo was beige. Who lived their entire life surrounded by beige? Even the pictures that hung on the wall had been there when he'd bought it. He didn't really live there. It was just where he slept.

  He was excited. His blood was pumping, really pumping, and he felt more alive than he had in as long as he could remember. It would certainly complicate things with Caitlin, but she was a good woman with a huge heart, and they'd discussed having children. They just always thought they'd have their own children, but they still had time. What was he thinking? He hadn't talked to her in nine months, and wasn't even sure she'd give him another chance. So, maybe it would just be him and Mia. That wouldn't be so bad. He stopped himself for a moment and thought of why it was happening as it was.

  “Rosario,” he said sadly, and almost immediately a flight attendant was at his side.

  “Did you say something, sir?” she asked.

  “I may have. My thoughts are a little crazy today,” he admitted.

  “I understand. Let me know if there's anything you need,” she said, walking away.

  Rosario. He closed his eyes again and pictured her as they'd sat over cold coffee. She'd looked devastated, and he wished there was something that could have been done to save her. He couldn't save her, but maybe he could save Mia. He could open his heart and his life to the little girl. He wanted to call Rosario, to tell her what he'd decided. Instead he opened his laptop and penned a quick email to his friend Jim Hartwell, a prominent attorney. Colin needed legal advice. He knew Rosario didn't have much time, and therefore, neither did he. He had no idea how to care for a child, or console a child who'd just lost her mother, but he'd figure it out. Maybe he'd call his aunt. He hadn't talked to her in almost a year, and for a moment it made him sick. They'd been close when he was a boy, but life had taken him away from his hometown, and then fate had taken his parents, giving him little reason to return. He lived on one coast, and his Aunt Sadie lived on the other, with a little dog that had cost his parents their lives. He'd only returned once since the funeral, and he'd met Aunt Sadie in a cafe. He couldn't stand the sight of the dog. Maybe it was time to go back, to see her again, to lay old ghosts to rest, and maybe he'd even pet the damn dog. It really wasn't the dog's fault. Colin would think about forgiving the dog, but first he'd finish the email, then compile a list of the numerous things he'd need to do. His mind raced, as his fingers flew over the keyboard, and when he was satisfied with what he'd written, he saved it to his Draft folder. He'd send it immediately when they landed.

  “How long before we land?” he asked, barely looking up.

  “We just took off, sir,” the flight attendant said with a smile.

  “So we're not almost there?” he said with a chuckle, feeling like a young boy.

  “No, sir, we're not.”

  “May I have some coffee, please?” Colin asked, flashing a smile at the young woman.

  “I'll get that for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Colin Thomas closed his laptop and looked out the window into the clouds.

  Ten

  Caitlin Goodrich sat quietly in the chair by the window, watching another New York afternoon come to an end. She could hear the sounds of traffic from the street below, and noise from the hospital filtered into the room. Rita had left to smoke her umpteenth cigarette of the day, and Hannah dozed against her breast. The baby was supposed to be nursing, but seemed more content to nap snuggled against her mother. Caitlin fashioned herself a modern day woman. Perhaps the age-old art of breastfeeding wasn't within her capabilities. She'd sat for thirty minutes with her breast sticking out of the ugly gown, and the baby had simply stared at her. She knew her daughter wasn't really seeing her, and for a moment, she was glad. She didn't want this to be her child's earliest memory of her. She longed for a shower, and the glimpse she'd caught of herself in the bathroom mirror had been frightening. Giving birth wasn't fashionable, but as she looked at her twins, she realized it didn't matter. She didn't care if she looked like death. They were worth it.

  Caitlin laid the sleeping child in the tiny bed by the window, and eased herself onto her hospital bed. She looked at the laptop, and it seemed to return her stare. She wasn't sure she'd ever send the letter, but what was the harm in writing it? She opened the laptop slowly, and the letter blinked back to life. She'd started it.

  “Dear Colin,” she said out loud. It was a start.

  She couldn't imagine what to say. She'd seen him on the street. He'd looked peaceful, and at ease with the woman and her child. It was obvious they had a relationship, and Caitlin felt like an intruder. He'd moved on; he had something new in his life. How could she possibly tell him?

  She stared blankly out the window at the dull scenery. The scenery didn't matter. She saw nothing, only his face.

  “Look what I found,” Rita said, coming through the door in her typical flurry. She held an enormous flower arrangement.

  “Shit,” Caitlin said, closing the laptop.

  “Not the reaction I was hoping for,” Rita said, setting the flowers on the rolling table beside Caitlin's bed.

  “Sorry, that wasn't for you. Oh my gosh, that's beautiful,” Caitlin said, turning to look at the flowers. “Ella?”

  “Ella,” Rita said, fingering the card. A shadow of something Caitlin didn't understand crossed Rita's face, and Caitlin looked at her for a long moment.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, Cate?”

  “You all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?” Caitlin asked.

  “She sent them from me,” Rita said softly.

  “That was nice of her.”

  “It was,” Rita said, sounding distracted. “Let's set them by the window,” Rita offered, and Caitlin nodded.

  As Rita crossed to the window her cell phone chirped in her bag. “Can you answer this?” she asked, tossing the cell phone. It flew across the room, hit the table, and sent a pink plastic pitcher scattering to the floor. The cell phone bounced back and landed in front of Caitlin.

  “Sure,” Caitlin said, grabbing for the phone before it could do anymore damage. “Nice throw, Mom,” she said, putting the phone to her ear.

  “Thanks,” Rita said.

  “Hello,” Caitlin said, watching as a pool of water formed around the pitcher.

  “She's not here, but her flowers are.”

  “Who is it?” Rita asked.

  “Noonie,” Caitlin said. “Sorry,” she said into the phone. “It's Nathan,” she said, handing the phone to Rita.

  “Noonie, what's up? Gotcha. Nathan, what's up?” Rita asked. “Well, she didn't come up to Cate's room. I assume she left the flowers at the desk,” Rita said, and then there was a long pause. “I'm not sure where she'd go. That's not true. She'd have gone right back. What time should she have gotten back?” Rita said, and another long pause ensued. “I'm not sure. I'll try her cell. Call me if you hear from her,” Rita said. “Please.”

  Rita closed the phone and turned to Caitlin with a deep-set frown. “That's odd,” she said, looking worried.

  “What's wrong?” Caitlin asked, as Rogan began to fuss.

  “Ella isn't back yet.”

  “I gathered that. When did the flowers come?” Caitlin asked, as she stood by the window rocking her son in her arms.

  “I don't know, but Noonie said she left around noon. She should have been back by now.”

  “Would she have gone someplace
else before heading back?” Caitlin asked.

  “Ella?”

  “Good point.”

  “Ella hates the city, and she would have wanted to go right back and work with her roses. I'm calling her cell,” Rita said, sounding anxious.

  “Mom?” Caitlin said.

  “What?”

  “Step out of the puddle before you call anyone else.”

  “Oh. Right,” Rita said, tossing a wad of tissues into the watery mess at her feet. Caitlin watched from a chair by the window and attempted to nurse her infant son.

  “I can't do this,” Caitlin whined, as Rita frowned at the cell phone she held. “What?” Caitlin asked.

  “It went right to voice mail,” Rita said, rubbing her forehead with her right hand.

  Caitlin seemed to look past her at the television above Rita's head.

  “Jesus, Mom,” Caitlin said. “Turn up the sound.”

  Rita turned to the television and her face paled immediately.

  “Oh God,” Rita said, recognizing the twisted wreckage of the SUV she knew belonged to her best friend. There were hundreds of vehicles like Ella's in the city and surrounding areas, but only one with a Hollings House bumper sticker.

  “They brought her here,” Caitlin said softly, as she listened to the reporter. Rita just stared at her, and for a moment Caitlin wondered if her mother might faint.

  “Go, Mom. I'm fine, just go.”

  “Dear God,” Rita said, struggling into her trench coat.

  “You don't need your coat.”

  “Dear God,” Rita repeated, tossing the coat onto Caitlin's bed. “She couldn't have lived, Cate. Dear God, did you see the truck? She couldn't have lived,” Rita rambled, approaching hysteria.

  Caitlin laid her sleeping son down and rang the nurse's station.

  “What are you doing?” Rita asked.

  “I'm coming with you.”

  “No, Cate.”

  “Yes, Mom. Sometimes I cannot stand you, but there is no way in hell I am going to let you do this alone.”

  “I love you, Caitlin.”

  “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”