by Sheri Duff
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I wake to a panicked call from Natalie. “The baby… Moo-Moo… Her breathing… She shook… They said she turned blue… They don’t know… She… Oh my God, Massie, they don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”
“Slow down.” Nothing she says makes any sense. “Where are you?”
“St. Francis Hospital, hurry,” Natalie says. “I’m scared. I can’t be here by myself.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Vianna,” Natalie says.
“I’ll pick her up on the way.”
Now I need my mom. I’m scared. I can’t find my keys. Wearing sweatpants, the t-shirt from the night before because I don’t think I’ll ever take it off, and flip flops, I rummage around the kitchen, pacing back and forth, looking through and over things, but not at anything. Finally I stop. I can’t imagine a little girl dying.
Alicia walks into the room carrying her coffee cup. She stops when she sees me. I must look like an idiot standing here staring at the counter. “Massie, what’s wrong?” she asks.
I find my voice but I doubt I make sense. “I can’t find my keys. Natalie’s at the hospital. Something happened to her sister and I need to pick up Vianna and take her there. I need my mom.” Then I move back and forth and around the counter rubbing the balls of my hands on the sides of my legs. Alicia scans the kitchen. She pulls my keychain off the small rack on the wall. It was there the whole time, exactly where I put it. She places the keys in my palm and folds my hand around them, “You good to drive? I can go with you. I can take you there.”
“I’m fine. I can drive,” I say.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I don’t have your number.” I pull my cell phone out. Alicia holds out her hand. I place the phone in it. She enters her number then says, “Get out of here.”
Then I walk toward the stairs to my room.
Alicia grabs her purse, and then turns me around. She places me in the front seat of her white SUV. On our way to the hospital, she makes a few calls. She knows people at the hospital. She finds out that Annabelle is going to be fine. I guess being a social worker has perks. We stop at Vianna’s. Vianna is waiting out front when we arrive.
Vianna climbs into the car. “What happened?”
“I don’t know the whole story, but Moo-Moo is okay,” I say. “How was homecoming?” Now that I know Annabelle will be okay, I want details about the dance.
“Perfect,” Vianna sinks into her seat and rests her head back. “Hunter and Tyler took us to that nice Italian restaurant. Oh, Colby took that freshman girl to the dance, and then he hit on every other girl. Andrew was the life of the party. He had everyone doing a crazy running dance to Eighties music. We went to Pollywog’s after. They stayed open late for the homecoming crowd.”
Alicia drops us off and we head up to the third floor. We find Natalie sitting on the floor outside of the waiting room, alone. Natalie had gone over to her dad’s for breakfast per Annabelle’s request. Natalie’s dad prepared his famous omelets, which consisted of leftovers from the refrigerator. Annabelle had an allergic reaction to the shrimp and stopped breathing. By the time the paramedics roared in, Natalie had stabbed her sister with her own epipen. Natalie’s allergic to peanuts and bees. Natalie never goes anywhere without that pen.
Natalie tells us that after the pen stab, Stephanie screamed, “Natalie’s killing my baby! Stop her!”
“I need to get out of here,” Natalie stands. “That bitch told me I can’t see my sister.”
“Why?” I hold on to my friend’s hand.
“I gave Annabelle my food. She was hungry and she didn’t want to wait for her omelet. My omelet had the shrimp in it.” Natalie eyes scan the hall and lock onto Annabelle’s room, where her family gathers. Natalie’s brother Cameron slides his butt to the floor outside the room.
“Did you know she was allergic?” Vianna asks.
“Oh, I’m sure she did. You girls and your stupid jealousy.” Wendy, Vianna’s dad’s wife, shakes her ass as she passes by us.
“Nobody knew.” Natalie’s voice is barely audible.
Natalie’s mom shows up to seize her children. Her voice screeches down the hall, “Cameron, let’s go.” Natalie’s mom looks tired. And older than she is.
Cameron stands and shuffles toward his mom.
Natalie’s dad pokes his head out of the room.
Natalie’s mom points at her dad. “Get your sorry ass back in the room with your chunky wife. I’ve got my kids.”
Vianna’s stepmom appears.
“And get your plastic ass away from me,” Natalie’s mom snaps at Wendy.
Natalie tugs at her mom. “Come on, Mom, let’s go.”
Vianna leaves the hospital with Natalie. I stay. I can’t make either of them stay and with their stepmonsters. But Natalie needs someone here to keep her updated. Plus, I know a nurse. My mom’s best friend, Angelle, works on the fifth floor. She isn’t allowed to tell me anything, but if Annabelle’s condition worsens she’ll give me the hint that I need to contact Natalie.
I find a corner booth in the cafeteria. Away from the noise of clerks taking money from the doctors, nurses, and families of loved ones—most importantly, away from the stepmonsters. The salad I’ve chosen falls limp, but my fries stay crisp. To receive extra ranch dressing for my fries I need to place the dressing on the scale and pay $2.99 a pound for it. What a rip off.
Jack stops by my dad’s and picks up my homework. He also brings the sketchbook and pencils. We doodle on the same sheet of paper. I sketch an Annabelle Moo-Moo Pollywog, her eyes big and blue. Blond curls fall around her face. Her smile, big and bright, forms a large dimple on her right cheek.
Jack sketches a lily pad under the pollywog, and then adds the pond around the pad. More pads circle Annabelle Moo-Moo. Trees surround the ponds. The setting Jack creates for the Pollywog child appears warm and safe. The sun spotlights her.
In a booth close by I hear droning voices complain. Then I hear an irate voice: “Really? I can’t believe you two.”
“Is that Alicia?” I ask Jack in a whisper. He nods and leans back in the both so he can hear.
“What? I’m not losing to a spoiled little brat. Like the ex-wife thing isn’t enough,” another woman grumbles.
“Tell me about ex-wives. Try following a New York Times bestselling author. Kind soul! Does no wrong, looks like she’s thirty when she’s fifty, bee-yoch.” The voice is unmistakably of Vianna’s stepmom, Wendy. “I bet her boobs sag. That’s why she’s always complaining about mine.”
Oh, that must make the gelatin boob sensation feel better. Note to self: I found a name for the fake boob thing. Gelatin Sensation. Tell Vianna.
“Let me ask you a question.” I hear Alicia’s voice take over the conversation. “What do you see in Annabelle’s future?”
“Good things,” Stephanie says. “I hope. They say she’s going to be fine. I can’t imagine my life without her.” Her voice cracks.
“Do you see her knowing that she has a strong family who loves each another?” Alicia doesn’t give Stephanie time to answer. “Or do you see her alone without siblings? Who will she turn to when you and Peter are gone?” Natalie’s dad didn’t want more kids. Annabelle will be their only child together.
A short silence fills the table.
Then Stephanie speaks: “I won’t. She’ll have…” She obviously can’t formulate her thoughts into words, let alone a sentence.
“Natalie saved her life,” Alicia softly reminds her.
“If she wouldn’t have given her the omelet—” Wendy tries to cut in.
“Shut up, Wendy.” Alicia’s tone remains firm. “Those girls who hate us so much are just that—girls. Get over yourself. Damn. I’ve never met women as pathetic as the two of you. And I barely know you. I don’t blame those girls for hating you.”
“What about you? Why does Massie hate you if you are so perfect?” Wendy asks.
I sink in my seat. I’ve
never told Jack my feelings about my stepmom, fearing that he’d hate me. Since my stepmom is his sister’s best friend, he has to take her side, right? Jack slides his hand across the table and I place my hand in his. He doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes.
“Because she’s scared of losing her dad. Because I came into the picture and she lost all hope of her parents reuniting. Because she’s afraid that I’ll have a baby who’ll replace her. Because she thinks I’m trying to replace her mom,” Alicia says.
“She needs to get over it,” Wendy announces. “Do you think you’re going to have a baby right away? I don’t want to get fat but it does give you power over them.” I envision Stephanie nodding her head in agreement like she’s at some church ceremony yelling an amen.
Alicia huffs, “You’re pathetic. Massie’s the child. I’m the adult. I need to live with it. I’m the one that needs to prove to her that I’m not here to take anyone’s place. She has a mom. Her dad needs to remind her that he loves her no matter what. And not that it’s any of your business, but even if I could have a baby. Which I can’t…” Alicia pauses. “…that baby would never take Massie’s place. My child—if I could have a child, he or she would be lucky as hell to have Massie as a sister.” And with that, the silence blankets their table and mine.
I look at the paper attached to my tea bag. “Forgiving allows our souls to breathe.”