The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  “That's the best kind,” she said with a smile. “What happened, Colin? I thought things were so good between the two of you.”

  “For a long time they were. I really loved her. I told her all the time.”

  “Did you show her?”

  “Huh?” Colin asked.

  “Did you show her, Colin? There's more to love than just saying it. Did you show her?”

  “I thought I did. Maybe I could've done better,” Colin admitted. “Last Christmas was bad, Aunt Sadie. I had a patient that died. I stayed at the hospital on Christmas Eve. I sat there all night with her parents. She died just before dawn.”

  “I'm sorry, Colin. I don't know how you do what you do.”

  “At times, neither do I. I went to Caitlin's Christmas morning. Something was different. I felt different about what happened. It affected me more than it normally did. I think Cate knew that. She wanted to talk about it, but I couldn't. I don't even know why I couldn't. I trusted her. She was the one person who was closer to me than anyone else. Why couldn't I tell her what I was feeling?”

  “What were you feeling?”

  “That's the thing. I don't really know. I guess that's why I couldn't talk about it. I just knew I wanted to protect her from what I'd seen, the ugliness of it.”

  “You should have told her that.”

  “I know. I didn't. She got upset. I went home.”

  “Sounds like a real nice holiday,” Aunt Sadie said.

  “Yeah. It was pretty great,” Colin replied sarcastically. “We never got past that. After Christmas, we got more and more distant. Eventually it just ended,” Colin said softly.

  “I'm sorry. I don't want you to be alone, son.”

  “I won't be for much longer,” he said.

  “What?” Aunt Sadie asked.

  “I'm adopting a little girl,” Colin said softly

  For a moment his aunt said nothing. She simply stared at him. “What did you say?”

  “I'm adopting a little girl, Aunt Sadie.”

  “Yes. That's what I thought you said. I don't know what to say.”

  “I know it's not what you'd expect from me.”

  “It's not.”

  “Aunt Sadie, please don't look at me like I'm crazy.”

  “Are you?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “How did this come about, Colin?” she asked.

  “The little girl, Mia, is my patient. HIV positive, but no AIDS yet. Her mother, Rosario, has full blown AIDS. She's dying.”

  “I'm sorry. That's heartbreaking, Colin.”

  “I know. Rosario came to see me last Sunday. I knew when I saw her she was close. She doesn't have anyone she thinks can give her daughter what she needs. Mia has been my patient since birth. She couldn't ask, but she hinted. I said yes.”

  “Just like that?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?” Aunt Sadie pried, and although Colin was uncomfortable, he wasn't surprised. He needed her to understand. He needed her support.

  “I was in an airplane heading to a convention in Los Angeles. I was trying to figure out how to help Rosario. I'd promised her I'd help. Mia needs someone who understands this disease, someone who can provide for her, and give her the care she needs.”

  “And that's you?”

  “I think it is.”

  “There isn't anyone else who could do that?”

  “I'm sure there is, Aunt Sadie,” Colin said, with a sharper tongue than he'd intended. “There are probably a lot of people who could. I just don't have the time to find them.”

  “Don't be angry with me, Colin.”

  “I'm not.”

  “Good. I mean well.”

  “I know you do. I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

  “I forgive you. You've really thought this through?” Aunt Sadie asked.

  “Yes. I always knew there was something about this little girl, something different, and I don't think it has anything to do with medicine. I knew in my heart she was different. I knew we were connected. I don't know if I believe in destiny, but I believe I can be a good father to her. I know I am supposed to do this.”

  “I'm proud of you, Colin,” Aunt Sadie whispered.

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Terrified.”

  “I'd be worried if you weren't.”

  “I'm seeing them tomorrow night. I'm going to move them in with me. The end gets crazy. No one ever knows how much time someone has right at the end. It comes down to the will to live, and how strong the patient is,” Colin said, and his breath caught. It was hard to think of Rosario Mariposa as just a patient. She was the mother of the little girl he was about to adopt, the mother the child would grow up without, the mother he would have to help preserve in Mia's memory.

  “You're quiet. Thinking?” his aunt asked, and he nodded.

  “Yeah. It's a lot to process. And frankly it's a lot to try to explain to Cate. She's always lived this orderly life. I cannot imagine dropping all of this on her.”

  “If she loves you, she'll accept what you've decided. You just need to do better this time. Let her in, Colin. That's what love is. Share your life with her. Share what's in your heart.”

  “I will, if she'll let me. I don't even know how she feels about me. I haven't seen her in months. I have no idea what she's doing now, or even where she is. She's on some kind of leave of absence or something. The paper wouldn't tell me anything when I called her. I left a message at her house, but she never called me back,” Colin said, sounding like a teenager. His aunt smiled. “I sounded like a kid just then,” he said, and his aunt nodded.

  “Love makes you feel like one.”

  “It makes me feel like an idiot. I was an idiot to walk away.”

  “You have to make this right, Colin. It would be a shame to throw away something like this.”

  “I know. I might have.”

  “You might not have. You don't know how she feels, because you haven't asked her, have you?”

  “No,” Colin said, sounding small.

  “Then call her, or go see her,” Aunt Sadie nearly ordered.

  “Yes, Ma'am!”

  “Don't be a smart ass, Colin. Just be smart.”

  “I will be. I'm going to get her back. I'm just not sure how yet. I'm about to drop a lot of chaos into her life. I hope she's ready.”

  Twenty-nine

  Caitlin kept her eyes on the road in front of her. Rita drove with both hands on the wheel and ten minutes of strained silence passed before either woman spoke.

  “Ella was pregnant when Charles died. She didn't know,” Rita said, and suddenly the anger Caitlin felt dissolved into sadness. Although she had a million questions, she said nothing. Before she could respond, Rita spoke again.

  “Charles had cousins in Buffalo. We'd met them at his funeral. Ella called them when she found out she was pregnant.”

  “So, she went and hid in Buffalo,” Caitlin said sadly.

  “In a way, yes.”

  “She must have been terrified.”

  “She was, Cate. She was terrified and heartbroken, but at least she wasn't alone.”

  “They took care of her.”

  “They did, and I did. I went with her.”

  “What about Daddy?”

  “He stayed here. He'd gotten his job at the Post Office by then, and we'd bought the farmhouse from Ella's grandmother. Daddy understood that I had to go with her. He knew what I was bringing back.”

  “Me,” Caitlin said, in little more than a whisper.

  “Yes. Ella asked us both before we left. She asked us to adopt you.”

  “She didn't want me?” Caitlin asked, and although she tried to hold her emotions, she began to cry. Rita reached for her hand, and seemed surprised when Caitlin didn't pull away.

  “More than anything she wanted you.”

  “Then why?” Caitlin asked, finding that it was the only question that was burning.

  “Because she w
anted you to have a father.”

  “I had one.”

  “He was gone, Cate. Do you know what Ella told me? If you ever repeat this, I swear, child, I will murder you in your sleep and dump you in the canal.”

  “Jeez, Rita,” Caitlin said, sounding horrified.

  “Mom.”

  “Jeez, Mom.”

  “You won't tell anyone?” Rita asked.

  “Not knowing that's coming,” Caitlin said, “especially now that I sleep twenty feet from you.”

  Rita smiled but it was fleeting. Her expression changed, as she resumed telling the sad story.

  “Ella was planning to kill herself. She had nothing, or so she thought. She was so devastated that she didn't eat, didn't sleep. She just sat on the porch like she had the night he was killed. She just sat, waiting.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Caitlin said, her words coming out in a sob.

  “You saved her, Caitlin. And you saved us.”

  Caitlin said nothing, she just sat crying for several minutes. Rita reached into her purse, and handed her daughter a tissue. Caitlin blew her nose loudly, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

  “We decided it would be an open adoption, and when you were old enough, we'd tell you.”

  “But you didn't,” Caitlin whispered.

  “No. Time passed, and it became easier not to say anything. That morning outside the nursery in the hospital, I wanted to tell you then. There were a million times, Cate. A million times I wanted to tell you.”

  “I feel cheated,” Caitlin whispered, and she heard Rita inhale sharply.

  “I know. I'd change it if I could, but I can't.”

  “You should have told me about Margaret.”

  “Yes, Caitlin. I should have. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn't. I'm sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Caitlin whispered.

  The silence returned, as both women sat lost in thought. The time in the car passed quickly, and soon the lights of Manhattan pierced through the darkness, illuminating the sky like a summer carnival. Rita steered the SUV into the visitor's lot at New York-Presbyterian Hospital and turned off the ignition. She turned to her daughter who stared out the window.

  “This looks familiar,” Caitlin said, sounding distant.

  “It does. Are you all right, Cate? Are you going to be all right?”

  “I don't know. I'm going to try. Does Ella know that I know?”

  “No. She'd asked me to tell you if she didn't recover. She'll be glad I did. I'm sorry I never told you before now. Please don't hate me, Caitlin.”

  “I could never hate you, Mom. As hard as this is to process, I actually understand you a lot better now. I'm sorry for what you went through, Mom. It couldn't have been easy for you, or Daddy, or Ella.”

  “Especially Ella,” Rita said softly, and Caitlin sighed.

  “I want her to know that I know the truth now. I want her to know that, Mom. I just don't know what I'll say.”

  “It will come to us,” Rita said, praying it would.

  ***

  Liz Parker walked into her sister's hospital room. Ella Simons was ghostly pale, so much so that her pallor nearly matched the white, hospital-issue sheets. The machines monitoring her seemed to have multiplied, and for a moment Liz just stared.

  “Hi,” Ella whispered, and despite the voice that was barely audible, Liz jumped.

  “Hi,” Liz said, taking a seat beside the bed, and her sister's hand.

  “I have diabetes,” Ella said softly, and Liz nodded. “No more Snickers,” she added, and despite the grim circumstances, Liz chuckled.

  “Nope. No more Snickers.”

  “Did you bring my things? My pictures? Did you bring my girl?” Ella asked, and the pain Liz saw in her eyes was nearly more than she could bear. “I need to see her. Just once more.”

  “Lots more,” Liz whispered, trying to hold back tears.

  “Maybe not this time,” Ella replied, and the tears spilled over and ran down Liz Parker's face. “None of that,” Ella said, in her typical comforting way. “Everyone dies.”

  “Not you. Not yet,” Liz nearly begged.

  “If it's my time.”

  “Not fair,” Liz whispered, as she blotted her tears with a wrinkled tissue.

  “Nothing is, my dear.”

  “I know.” Liz did know. She knew Ella knew that, too. Life wasn't fair. It was nearly the only constant, third in line to death and taxes.

  “I dreamed of Charles,” Ella said, and Liz watched as the light seemed to return to her sister's eyes. “He was just like I remembered him. Young, and beautiful, and.........alive,” Ella whispered.

  For a moment Liz couldn't speak. She wondered if Ella had dreamed him, or if Charles had returned to claim the love he had once lost. Without thinking, Liz looked around the small room. The machines beeped and whirred, but there was no other sound, and no one else. They were alone.

  “It was just a dream,” Ella said, seemingly reading her sister's thoughts. “I've never felt more alive in my life, Liz. Never more so than when he held me. I know what we did was wrong, but God, how I loved him.”

  “He loved you, too,” Liz said softly. “I remember when he asked Daddy if he could marry you. I remember how nervous Charles was, and how much that amused Daddy.”

  “He was terrified to ask.”

  “He was. Daddy knew it. But, Daddy also knew how much he loved you. He knew Charles would take care of you.”

  “He never got the chance,” Ella said sadly.

  “No. I'm so sorry, Ella. I know I've said it a thousand times, but I want you to know how sorry I am that you lost him. I am so sorry for the decisions you had to make, and what you gave up, but I have always respected you, and adored your warm heart. I have always loved you, Ella.” Liz Parker sighed. The words that had always been so hard for her had finally been said. She had said them.

  “I have always loved you,” Ella said, reaching for her sister's hand. “And, I didn't really give her up,” Ella said, and although she smiled weakly, regret shined in her eyes.

  “Do you wish you'd done it differently?” Liz asked.

  “From the moment I laid her in Rita's arms.”

  “Oh, Ella. Why didn't you say anything?” Liz said, the pain in her voice obvious.

  “They needed her more than I did.”

  “No one makes a sacrifice like that, Ella. No one in their right mind would do that.”

  “I wasn't in my right mind, Liz. I had just lost the love of my life. I was barely twenty years old. I had no husband, no skills. How could I support a baby?”

  “We would have been all right,” Liz said, although she knew Ella was right.

  “I did the right thing. Yes, it nearly killed me, but I did the right thing,” Ella said, sounding nearly convinced.

  Ella closed her eyes, imagining the infant she'd once held in her arms. Her baby, who had become an adult before her eyes, walked into the room. As soon as Caitlin saw Ella, she began to cry. Rita walked to the bed where Ella lay and whispered in her ear. Liz stood and walked toward the window. Rita motioned to her from Ella's bedside.

  “They need some time,” Rita said, and Liz nodded.

  “It will be all right, sweetheart,” Liz whispered to Caitlin, taking her hand and squeezing it. Caitlin watched Rita leave the room with Liz following closely behind her. Someone shut the door, although if asked, Caitlin would never remember who. It didn't matter. She stood by the door, looking at the bed, into the face of the woman who had given birth to her, and then in an amazing act of selflessness, had given her away. There were no words, none she could find, nothing suitable for such a moment. Caitlin simply crossed the room, sat beside her mother, and took her in her arms. Ella sobbed against her shoulder, as the tears ran down Caitlin's face.

  “I'm sorry,” Ella whispered.

  “It's okay, now. Everything will be okay,” Caitlin whispered, and Ella smiled. As quickly as time had passed, taking her newborn, and turning her into an amaz
ing woman, suddenly it seemed suspended. Time stopped, affording them an extraordinary moment. Ella clung to Caitlin, the child she had once given away, and Caitlin held the woman whose sacrifice she would try to understand.

  No matter what happened now, Ella knew it would be okay. If it was her time to die, she could go in peace.

  Thirty

  On the west coast, Colin Thomas shared a quiet dinner with his aunt. Although he needed to return to New York, he felt a sadness at leaving, which he voiced to his aunt as they sipped coffee.

  “I'm glad I came,” Colin said softly, and his aunt smiled.

  “Me, too. It was long overdue.”

  “It was. It's funny, Aunt Sadie, but I feel like I can finally start my life again. Is that strange?” Colin asked.

  “No,” she replied, in little more than a whisper. “You never even gave yourself an opportunity to grieve, to start the process of letting go. You needed to go to the cemetery. You needed to say goodbye.”

  “I know. I was standing there trying to think of what to say to them, but all I could think of was how much I wish they could know me now. I wish they could have known Caitlin, and I wish they could meet Mia.”

  “They know, Colin. It's just different because they're not here.”

  “I wish they were.”

  “Of course you do, but we don't get to decide that”

  “Don't you think I know that? I'm a doctor,” he replied, and his words were sharp, surprising him. “I'm sorry,” he whispered

  “It's okay. It's been a hell of a couple of days for you. What's on your agenda for tomorrow? Right back to work, I suppose.”

  “No. I'm actually going to start planning this all out tomorrow. I have vacation time coming, and some favors I could call in if I need someone to cover for me. I need to look for a bigger place, but I'm not sure of the timing of everything because no one really knows when Rosario is going to.......”

  Aunt Sadie reached for Colin's hand, and watched as his eyes grew sad.

  “How do you finish a sentence like that? How do you survive a thought like that?” he asked, surprised when his eyes filled. “I am bringing a woman into my home to die, Aunt Sadie. I know I'm a doctor, but this is different, this is personal. I don't want that woman to die in the hospital. I want her to die someplace with people who care about her, with her daughter near her.”