The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  Eleven

  Ella Simons knew she was dreaming, but the dream felt wonderful, and she remembered the pain that had come just before she gave in to the darkness. She knew she could will herself into wakefulness, it was just outside the dream, but she had no desire to meet the pain again. And so, she dreamed. She stood among the trees, and although she was alone, and the woods were bathed in shadow, she was not afraid. Suddenly the entire forest came alive with golden light, and only then did she feel a trace of fear. It was the light that frightened her. It was unexpected, and amazing, and she was drawn to it. She turned and felt the warmth of the light on her face, its heat on her skin. Was it heaven she was seeing around her? The trees danced together in the breeze. The light reflected off thousands of blades of grass, each fresh with morning dew. The wind lifted her hair. Was this heaven? Despite her fear, she smiled. She turned to her left and Charles stood waving. Roses in every color of the spectrum bloomed at his feet. She was surrounded by the smell of the flowers, and although they smelled like roses, they also smelled like peace and happiness, if such a magnificent scent existed.

  She waved. Charles waved. She had missed his blue eyes, his smile, and for a moment, she simply stared at him, her heart nearly bursting in her chest. There was something else. A sound. She turned. A beautiful child with golden hair stood in a far off field. The little girl waved, and giggled, and Ella waved back.

  “Caitlin?” she called out in the dream, straining to see the child more clearly. “Caitlin?” she called again. “Wait!” Ella watched as the little girl turned with one last wave, and eagerly, she followed her toward the light.

  ***

  The elevator opened on the first floor of the hospital, and Rita and Caitlin stepped out into the chaos. The ER was to their immediate right. The waiting room was filled with patients of varying age, injury and illness.

  Rita walked quickly to the triage station. Caitlin followed. A nurse looked up when she heard them approach.

  “May I help you?”

  “My best friend, Ella Simons, was brought here earlier. She was in a car accident,” Rita said, her voice filled with anguish.

  “Are you family?” the nurse asked.

  “I'm almost the closest thing she has,” Rita said sharply.

  “I can't give out any information on a patient without notifying the next of kin,” the nurse said, looking at the computer in front of her, and although her voice was firm, her eyes were kind. Caitlin knew she was only doing her job, and she put her hand on Rita's arm, to try to quiet the anger she knew was brewing.

  “It's okay, Mom,” Caitlin said, turning her attention to the nurse. “Her sister is her only immediate family. Have you called her?”

  “No next of kin has been notified,” the nurse said, and Caitlin winced.

  “Would you like to call her?” Caitlin asked. “We know how to reach her.”

  “Yes, thank you,” the nurse said, not quite meeting their eyes.

  “Mom, do you have Elizabeth's number?”

  “Yes,” Rita said, opening her cell phone.

  “Her name is Elizabeth Simons-Parker. This is her number,” Caitlin said, writing the number on the piece of paper the nurse had handed her. “We'd like to wait if that's all right,” Caitlin said, and the nurse nodded.

  “I'll be right back. I'm sorry, you are........?” the nurse asked.

  “Rita Hollings and Caitlin Goodrich,” Caitlin offered.

  The nurse disappeared through the door behind her, leaving Rita and Caitlin alone at the desk.

  “She's dead,” Rita said softly. “She'd have told us if she wasn't.”

  “She couldn't tell us anything. Not without calling her sister first.”

  “She's dead,” Rita repeated.

  “We don't know that,” Caitlin said, as the nurse returned.

  “Mrs. Parker is coming. She said it was all right to give you information,” the nurse said. “The doctor is coming out to talk with you.”

  “Is Ella okay?” Rita asked impatiently.

  “The doctor will be right out,” the nurse said dismissively.

  Caitlin reached for Rita's hand and led her to the waiting area. They sat in the corner closest to the nurse's station, and watched the door for any sign of a doctor. A small child sat on the floor to the right of them, with his finger in his nose.

  “I have chicken pox,” the child announced, and Caitlin smiled.

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Caitlin said.

  “Don't be. I got to watch Lion King in Mommy's bed and eat Popsicles,” the boy said, and Rita smiled at him.

  “Mrs. Hollings?”

  Rita looked up immediately. The child was forgotten as she focused on the doctor whose blank expression revealed nothing.

  “Yes,” Rita said, sounding genuinely frightened.

  “I'd like to talk to you, if you'd come with me please,” the doctor said, and although his voice was kind, his eyes looked suddenly troubled, and Rita mumbled again.

  “She's dead.”

  “Mom, please. Let's just go with the doctor. Maybe she isn't dead.”

  “Did you see the car?”

  “I saw it. Come on,” Caitlin begged, wondering where she was getting the strength to be calm. She was pretty sure Ella was dead, although she'd never have said so. She'd been a junior reporter when she first started at The New York Times. She'd seen disasters, the resulting fatalities, and the wreckage left behind, wreckage that looked a lot like Ella's SUV.

  Rita finally stood, and immediately reached for Caitlin's hand. Rita walked beside her looking dazed, as Caitlin squeezed her hand reassuringly. They passed those waiting, and Caitlin noticed the envious look of a young man who held a bloody rag to his nose. She gave him only a passing glance, and shuffled along in her slippers, through the enormous doors leading to the ER.

  The doctor stepped into a small room on the left, and Rita and Caitlin followed him. They took the two gray chairs he offered. Rita nearly fell into hers, and Caitlin slowly lowered herself into the chair beside her.

  “Mrs. Hollings, you friend's condition is very grave,” he said, not quite meeting Rita's eyes.

  “How grave?” Caitlin asked bravely.

  “She is listed in critical condition.”

  “Where is she?” Rita asked in a very small voice.

  “She's here in the trauma unit in the ER, but we'll be moving her to the Intensive Care Unit in about an hour. A surgeon is evaluating her condition to determine if she can undergo surgery.”

  “At least she's alive. What are her chances?” Rita asked, weakened by the significance of the question and her fear of the answer. This was Ella, her best friend, the woman who had practically saved her life forty-six years ago. She couldn't die, there were too many things to be said, to be done, too much of life left to live. Rita moved her fist to her mouth to stifle a sob with little success. Her tears came in great gasps, and Caitlin reached for her hand again.

  “Mom, please,” Caitlin said softly, and Rita turned to look at her.

  “She's my best friend, Cate. My only friend,” Rita admitted, and Caitlin's heart broke for her.

  “I know. That's why we have to be strong for her.”

  “I'm sorry, Doctor. Did you say something?” Rita asked, certain she'd missed something while she'd been lost in her thoughts.

  “We don't know what her chances are. It's a bit too early to tell. They will improve dramatically if she makes it through the night,” he offered, and Caitlin looked at the clock. The large hand was on the eleven, and the smaller hand was nearing the six.

  “Twelve hours,” Caitlin said, not realizing she'd spoken out loud.

  “Twelve hours,” Rita agreed, following her daughter's gaze to the clock on the wall above the doctor's head.

  “Give or take,” the doctor offered for lack of something better to say.

  “Can we see her?” Caitlin asked.

  “Once she's moved to the Intensive Care Unit she can have one visitor each
hour, but the visit is limited to five minutes.”

  “Five minutes to thank her for a lifetime,” Rita mumbled.

  “Mom?”

  “Nothing,” Rita said, looking troubled.

  “Why don't we go back to my room and call Liz,” Caitlin suggested, and Rita nodded. “Thank you, doctor,” Caitlin said, standing to leave.

  “Are you a patient here?” the doctor asked, although it was none of his business.

  “Yes, I had twins about eighteen hours ago,” Caitlin replied, looking at the clock again. The hands had barely moved, leaving them with nothing to do but wait through the night while the universe decided their friend's fate.

  “Congratulations,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you,” Caitlin said. “Let's go, Mom.”

  “I'm going to smoke. I'll call Liz while I'm out there. Then I'm going upstairs to check at the ICU. I'll meet you in your room,” Rita said. Before she could leave, Caitlin reached for her mother and pulled her to her.

  “It will be all right, Mom,” Caitlin whispered into her mother's tangled hair.

  “I hope you're right, Cate,” Rita said. Her voice sounded raw. Caitlin felt infinitely sorry for her. She knew how much Rita was hurting.

  “I'll be upstairs, Mom,” Caitlin said, as Rita wandered away. Caitlin watched her. Rita's shoulders were slumped, and she suddenly looked like an old woman. “I hope I'm right, too,” Caitlin whispered, as she shuffled back to the elevator. She was amazed at how physically exhausted she'd become and she sat on a bench and watched the elevator descend from the seventh floor. She thought of how strange life was, how someone was born, and then, in what seemed an even exchange, someone died. Caitlin bowed her head as she waited and silently prayed when the exchange was made, it would not be Ella whose life would end.

  Twelve

  Rita Hollings walked laboriously through the front doors, shuffling as slowly as her daughter. She followed the same path she had nearly a dozen times already that day, and leaned against the wall next to a utilitarian ashtray. Her hand shook as she lit her cigarette, and she looked at the night sky as the first blast of smoke burned its way into her lungs.

  She thought of a long ago loss, and was surprised when the tears came almost immediately. She thought of her husband and longed for his strength as she hadn't in years. What would she do if Ella died?

  Rita's mind raced, and she placed her hand against the wall to steady herself. The stone was cool to the touch, and for a moment she simply stood, feeling the course texture beneath her fingers.

  What would happen now? Who would run the shop? Who would help Caitlin ease into the life of a single mother? Surely she couldn't. She hadn't been the best mother, and while it was a painful admission, Rita knew it was true. She had a sudden urge to apologize to the stars, to the universe, and ask forgiveness for not being the mother she'd once sworn she would be. She had needed Caitlin's love so much she'd tried too hard to be her best friend, and in doing so, she had become less of a mother. To an outsider, Rita looked like a mess, and Caitlin grew up thinking she had to hold everything together, that she had to figure everything out. Had Rita disappointed her daughter? Had she disappointed everyone? She prayed she hadn't, but wasn't entirely sure.

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered, and her words were swallowed by the darkness. “I'm so sorry, Ella.”

  Her tears came hard and fast, and as the cars passed by, she stood sobbing with her right hand hanging by her side, as the forgotten cigarette slowly burned out.

  ***

  Caitlin stepped out of the elevator onto the sixth floor and slowly made her way to the maternity ward. She stopped in front of the nursery, and for several minutes she stood watching the babies she had given birth to less than a day before. They dozed peacefully, side by side, seemingly lost in baby dreams. Rogan's mouth moved in a rhythmic suckling motion, and Hannah slept with her tiny fists tucked under her chin. Caitlin stood staring, amazed by the unmarred beauty of her infant children.

  “Incredible, aren't they?” an older gentleman to her left commented. Caitlin jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice. It was a rich bass and sounded like someone she once knew.

  “Yes,” she replied softly.

  “My granddaughter is in there,” he said, his pride evident.

  “My twins are the two right in front of us,” Caitlin said, offering a smile to the stranger.

  “My, my. Look at them. You've got your hands full, young lady,” he said, and Caitlin turned to look at him. He was tall and thin with salt-and-pepper gray hair and a kind face. He reminded her a bit of her father, and she felt a buried pain come to life.

  “Daddy must be pleased,” he said, and her pain deepened.

  “He is,” she whispered.

  “I'm headed to the chapel to give a bit of thanks,” the man said. “I'll say a blessing for them,” he offered, and Caitlin thanked him.

  She watched him walk away. He slipped one hand into his pocket as he walked, reminding her again of her father. He'd spent most of his waking hours with one hand in his pocket.

  “Daddy,” she whispered, as her eyes filled, and her heart broke for the men she'd lost.

  Caitlin turned after blowing a kiss to the twins, and suddenly her steps had purpose. She knew she had to write the letter. She had to tell Colin about his babies. No matter how much it hurt her to reach out to him, she had to do it. He deserved to know, and his babies deserved to know their father.

  The laptop was where she'd left it, as was everything in the small room. The television played softly in the background, and the only addition to the space was the dinner tray that loomed on the rolling cart next to her bed. Pensively, Caitlin lifted the lid and nearly gagged. A round glob of mystery meat swam in a poop-colored gravy. Runny mashed potatoes had seemingly escaped from their compartment and had sidled up to a pile of peas that Caitlin wouldn't have been surprised to find were made of plastic.

  “Jesus,” she muttered, replacing the lid, and separating herself from the foul-smelling evening meal offering.

  She sat on the bed and opened the laptop. She suspected it would be a while before Rita returned. Caitlin knew how much her mother loved Ella. Rita's a good person, and a good friend, Caitlin thought, as she pictured her mother holding a silent vigil outside the ICU.

  The laptop blinked to life, as did the document Caitlin had saved.

  “Dear Colin,” she said out loud. And just like before, her literary ability seemed to cease with those two words. What could she say? She closed her eyes, but not before placing her fingers on the home row keys as she'd been trained to do in college. She inhaled deeply and began to type.

  I hope this finds you well. I have spent many hours thinking of you since you left on a rainy morning that suddenly seems so long ago. I am not sure how to begin telling you this, but I guess I'll just keep writing, and hope the words will come. Something amazing happened today, something I should have told you about, but could never find a way to tell you. Now I know I must. In the early morning hours, I gave birth to two beautiful babies. They have my eyes, and your chin. I am already more in love with them than I could have ever believed possible. They are amazing, Colin, two little miracles, made on that last incredible night we spent together. I've picked up the phone to call you one hundred times, and one hundred times I set it back down because I was frightened. I was wrong to do that. I should have called, and I should have told you. I want you to know them, but only if it's what you want. I don't want anything from you...........

  Caitlin stopped typing. It was the lie that stopped her fingers. She laid her hands in her lap and read the words again.

  I don't want anything from you.......

  That part was a lie. She did want something from him. She wanted him to love her, the way she loved him. She wanted him to believe she was the oxygen he needed to survive, that he couldn't live without her, that his life had no purpose without her. She didn't think he felt that way, in fact, she was almost certain he didn't, a
nd at that moment, something deep within her died. It was then she knew. Something she thought would last forever, something she believed in even while they were apart, the very thing that had given her the strength to rise from her bed, alone, day after day, was over. Over.........forever.

  “Colin,” she whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

  “Honey?” Rita said, and Caitlin turned her tear-streaked face toward her mother. She hadn't heard her return. Her mother's expression matched her own, and Rita sat softly on the edge of the bed, and took Caitlin in her arms. Together the two women sat weeping, their hearts breaking, their soft whimpers mixing in a sad symphony.

  Thirteen

  The shadow filled the doorway before either Caitlin or Rita heard the voice.

  “Rita,” the woman said, stepping into the room.

  Both women looked into the sad face of Liz Parker, Ella Simon's sister. Liz sat beside the bed, and immediately reached for Rita's hand. “It's bad,” Liz said, and Rita sighed nervously.

  “I'm sorry,” Caitlin whispered. “Did you see her?”

  “They said it was her,” Liz said, as the tears ran down her face. “I have to take their word for it. There is nothing in that bed that resembles my sister.”

  “Is Noonie with you?” Rita asked, finally finding her voice.

  “He prefers Nathan now,” Liz said, smiling weakly. “Yes, he drove me here. He's a good boy,” she added, seeming to forget, as they all did, that the much loved child they remembered as Noonie, was a grown man, a widower with an adolescent daughter. “He loves her so much.”

  “We all do,” Rita said, giving Liz's hand a reassuring squeeze. “How's Erica?” Rita asked, thinking of Nathan's daughter, who had already suffered more loss than any young girl should.

  “We didn't tell her,” Liz said. “She doesn't need to know this, not now.”

  “She will eventually,” Caitlin said softly.

  “It's just three years since Patti............,” Liz trailed off, speaking of her daughter-in-law, Nathan's wife, and Erica's mother, who had been killed in a car accident nearly three Christmases ago.