The Leopard Tree

by Tim Merriman

  “Oh my, yes, that’s them. Where are they?”

  “Here, I’ll show you, miss. Follow me,” he said, leading her through the double doors and past rooms with curtain barriers. At the very last one, he held open the white drapes, and she went in.

  Daudi lay on the gurney with his eyes closed, coughing and gasping. Rosa rushed over to Ramla and Masozi, gathered both in her arms and laid her hand on Daudi’s back.

  “Please don’t run from me again,” she said, sobbing. “I’m not going to send you back or stop you from going to New York. I’m just going to help. ”

  “Miss Rosa, you’re not angry with us?” Masozi asked as he disentangled himself from Rosa’s arms.

  “No, not at all. I’m proud of you. All three of you,” she said. “I don’t know anyone who could do what you’ve done so bravely. But we’ve got some catching up to do. First, Daudi, what’s going on with you? Why are you here?”

  “I may be a little sick, Miss Rosa,” Daudi said as he began coughing again.

  “Where’s the doctor? Have they taken any tests or given you any medicine?”

  “After they put us in here, they have never come to check on us, Miss Rosa,” Masozi explained. “They are too busy for us, I think.”

  “They won’t be for long. How long have you been here?”

  “Since twelve-thirty,” Daudi answered.

  “Two hours. That’s obscene. I’ll be right back and don’t any of you move.” Rosa squared her shoulders, prepared to do battle on behalf of her kids.

  “Daudi, what do we do?” Masozi asked. Ramla hung on to Masozi’s hand. Her instincts were telling her to do as Rosa asked, but she was prepared to follow the boys if they decided to bolt again. Daudi looked at the two of them and felt bad enough that he was ready to accept the help that Rosa had offered.

  “I think we stay where we are this time, Masozi. Perhaps we were wrong to run from Miss Rosa. Let us wait and—” but his sentence ended with more staccato coughs. Rosa could hear his coughing as she stormed through the hall. She found her quarry at the nurse’s station, where a young female doctor was entertaining two male nurses drinking coffee.

  “Do you work here?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes, be with you in a few minutes. We’re on break,” the woman with the stethoscope around her neck said, looking back at the young man and winking.

  “So the answer is no, you’re not working here. I guess I’d be on a break if I were you, too,” Rosa said. “You seem more interested in your social life than your patients and that would be hard to do if you were actually working.”

  “Is there something wrong with taking a break in the middle of a twelve-hour shift?” the doctor asked with sarcasm.

  “Not at all. If you could just point me to someone who might care about their patients more than making a date, I’d appreciate it. Preferably someone competent to provide medical care to someone in need.” Rosa’s even tone and blistering glare made it clear she was going to be a force to be reckoned with. The doctor stopped leaning on the counter and stood toe-to-toe with Rosa. She started to argue, but withered under Rosa’s calm determination. Still, she couldn’t resist attempting to defend herself.

  “Hey, I think you’re a bit off base here. Clearly, you don’t know what it’s like to work an ER—this is a war zone, lady.” Rosa smiled bleakly.

  “You don’t know what a war zone is, lady. The kids you’re ignoring do. Let me introduce you to them since you haven’t bothered to get to know them yet. They’re here from Kenya. Your patient, Daudi, has been HIV-positive since birth and he has not been able to afford medication since his grandmother died months ago. He’s become very sick in the last few days. While you’re here drinking coffee and making eyes at your colleague here, Daudi’s being tended by his best friends, one of whom is blind and missing a leg, thanks to a rebel land mine set to catch people going to the community well to get water. The other one, just a little girl really, watched her mother and older sisters raped and murdered after seeing her brothers and fathers gutted like catfish on the kitchen floor. You didn’t hear her complain about your lack of attention, because she hasn’t spoken a word in years. You might think they don’t need you as bad as you need a break or a cup of coffee, but that would just make you an idiot in my book. These beautiful children have traveled ten thousand miles to tell people at the United Nations what it’s like to be statistics among the eighteen million disenfranchised orphans of Africa. So why don’t you just stay here and finish your coffee. And hand me your stethoscope while you’re at it. I’ll examine Daudi myself and try to figure out whether his HIV has advanced into AIDS.” Rosa was so angry as she finished her tirade that she was shaking, but instead of the return sarcasm she expected, the doctor and nurses whisked past her toward the examination room where the kids waited. Rosa followed, grateful they were finally getting help, but furious at what it took to mobilize the staff at this ER.

  * * *

  “I’m Dr. Simpson, young man. I’m going to check you out while these nurses get some vital signs,” the doctor said in her most professional voice.

  Daudi coughed in spasms and doubled up in great pain. The nurses took his temperature and blood pressure while the doctor gently listened to his chest with the stethoscope. She looked in his eyes, ears, and mouth, then took notes in a small personal computer as the nurse drew a blood sample.

  “What’s your name? Do you speak English?” she asked.

  “I am Daudi,” he rasped. “I speak English and Swahili, and the language of my native village.”

  “Wow. Three languages. I’m impressed. We’re going to take good care of you,” the doctor reassured him. “Are you sure you are HIV-positive, Daudi?”

  “I have been since birth. Mamere, my grandmother, was a refugee camp health worker. She raised me after my mother died of AIDS when I was very small.”

  “I’m so sorry, Daudi. Please forgive us for taking so long to get in here. We had gunshot victims from a street fight in here earlier tonight and it’s been a little crazy. I think maybe we should have gotten in here sooner,” the doctor said loudly enough for Rosa to hear. She was trying to make amends as best she could under the circumstances.

  Rosa leaned in over Daudi, looked the doctor in the eyes and said, “I apologize for name calling. I don’t do that as a rule. I’m just tired of knowing these special kids are not anybody’s first priority. I’ll pay any bills they have and I’ll be here with them every minute until they can go on to New York,” Rosa explained. “They’re going to take part in a U.N. conference, so it’s very important to them to get moving again as soon as possible.” She said this more for their benefit than that of the doctor. She wanted the kids to understand her commitment to their cause. Nothing else mattered.

  “Really, well, that’s very impressive as well,” the doctor said. “But it’s going to be awhile before you can go anywhere. We need to find a room for you and a physician who specializes in HIV cases. I’ll go to work on that while we wait to see what the tests show. Trevor will come back with a medication that will make that cough go away at least temporarily.” Dr. Simpson smiled, gave Daudi a pat on the leg and left, giving both nurses instructions. Trevor was back in a moment with a syringe and medication.

  “This will hurt a little but it will get rid of that cough. And then I need to get some more information,” Trevor said, rolling Daudi over to give him the injection. Daudi barely flinched in response.

  “The cough hurt worse,” he said.

  “You’re going to feel better soon, Daudi,” Rosa reassured him. “And we’re all staying with you until you’re able to travel and I’ll drive you the rest of the way into New York City. How about that?”

  “That sounds good, Miss Rosa.” Daudi’s voice was weak, but he felt better with Rosa there to take charge of the situation.

  “You rest. I’m going to go speak with the doctor and make sure they are doing as they said,” she said. “Try to get some sleep, all of you. I’ll
be back.” She gave them what she hoped was a stern look to convince them to stay put, then went in search of the doctor as the kids settled down to rest. She felt fairly confident they were worried enough about Daudi not to run again, but she vowed not to be gone too long.

  Rosa found Dr. Simpson having a cup of coffee in a break room. The doctor put up one hand immediately, preparing to fend off another attack.

  “I really do need coffee or I’m no good to anyone at three a.m.”

  “I really don’t mean to be your critic, Doctor. I apologize for my earlier comments. I’m just out of patience when it comes to these kids always being last in priority.”

  The doctor was quiet for a moment, then said, “You’re right. I owe the kids more of an apology. We get into our own world here, not seeing the tragedy in front of us. It’s an occupational hazard, learning not to care too deeply. I’m ashamed to have been caught in it. Thanks for speaking up.” Rosa nodded her approval of the doctor’s admission and decided to move on.

  “Do you have any test results for Daudi?”

  Dr. Simpson was quiet for a moment, studying her pen cap as if it were a new invention. Finally, she looked up and met Rosa’s gaze. “I don’t. It will be sometime later this morning, but I’m afraid to learn the results.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Respiratory problems of this severity with a patient who is HIV-positive and not taking the cocktail is usually indication of an advancement into full-blown AIDS, which is hard to reverse. I’m hoping I’m wrong, but afraid I won’t be.”

  “What can be done? Isn’t there medication?” Rosa asked, feeling her worst fears were going to be realized.

  “There is. It’s just not always effective if the disease has advanced.” She sighed deeply and gave a small smile. “Let’s not borrow trouble. Why don’t you go back and check on them. Maybe a bed in the hospital has been found and we can move them out of the emergency room, at least.”

  Rosa was exhausted, but walked back along the curtained rooms to number three. She opened the curtain, but the kids were gone. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Not again. Panicked, she backed out of the curtain right into the broad chest of Trevor. “Where did they go? What’s happened? Where are they?” She hammered him with questions, her voice rising with fear. He took her gently by the shoulders and looked her right in the eyes.

  “Relax, Rosa. You are Rosa? Right?”

  “Yes, I’m Rosa,” she said emphatically. “Where are they?” Her mind stampeded with the possibility that the hospital had turned them over to the authorities or worse yet, that they were running from her again.

  “They’re fine. Really. They’re in room 414 in the children’s area upstairs. I called a friend on that floor and she found an empty room with two beds. Daudi will have privacy and you can all crash on the extra bed. I thought you looked like you could use some sleep.”

  She sighed in relief and followed the signs to the elevator and on to the fourth floor. When she entered the dimly lit room, she found all three young people sprawled in one bed. She smiled at them through a mist of tears, surprised at how seeing them all together filled her with such longing to just put her arms around them and make their world safe and problem-free. She could understand why they preferred to curl up together. They were all they had. At least, that’s what they thought. Rosa was determined to change that just as soon as she reasonably could. She kicked off her shoes, slid on to the other bed and laid back. She found the control to the lights and dimmed them further, hoping the nursing staff would stay away a few hours. Sleep overtook her in seconds, in spite of Masozi’s snoring. A nurse slipped into the room at six a.m. to check Daudi’s vital signs. He barely opened his eyes and she moved out of the room without disturbing him further. At nine o’clock, Rosa was awakened by the smell of coffee. She opened her eyes to see Dr. Simpson standing at the foot of the bed in street clothes, holding a cup in each hand.

  * * *

  “Come have a cup of coffee with me, Rosa,” Dr. Simpson suggested. Rosa nodded and rose to follow the doctor into the hall.

  “I hope you got some sleep. You look like hell,” she smiled at Rosa and handed her the coffee. “Breakfast of champions. Drink up.”

  “Thanks,” Rosa said. She assumed the doctor hadn’t just stopped in to chat without news, but was afraid to ask. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

  “I’ll get right to it,” Dr. Simpson said. “I have the test result and it’s not good.” Rosa’s face fell with the blunt announcement, but it was what she had expected.

  “His T-cell count is way down and the respiratory infection is a common strain of bacterial pneumonia. I’ve started an antibiotic that should help and he’s been given more cough suppressant so he can get some rest. He’ll have a new doctor looking in on him soon on rounds. I just wanted to check in and let you know what I learned. I really do care about the people who come in through the ER.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Simpson. I believe you and I appreciate the extra effort. Not to mention the coffee. What’s the prognosis with a low T-cell count?”

  “He’s young and in pretty good shape otherwise, but needs to be on a program of regular medication. If you’re going on to New York City, there are excellent clinics there. You mentioned that Daudi is African, so I’m guessing he’s here on a tourist visa. That could be a little tricky unless you’re willing to accept full financial responsibility. You’ll need someone to help you at the NYU Medical Center. I can phone ahead and let them know you’re coming, but you should stay here a couple of days and get the respiratory problems under control. A social worker will be in to get data from you and talk about social service assistance if needed.” Rosa glanced up from her coffee cup, suddenly very aware of how the kids had felt on the road. The promise of help from the government sounded more like a threat. Without appropriate papers, they could easily be deported without any further consideration.

  “We can stay a couple of days and still make the meeting in New York. And I’d rather you didn’t send social services in. I’ll take care of everything financially so there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.”

  “Right. Well, hospital policy requires me to do that unless their legal guardian turns up. By the way, I saw the story about them on the news this morning. If people find out they’re here, you may also have problems with immigration authorities or hospital administrators calling them. I don’t want to create any of those problems, but I also need to keep my job.”

  “Ouch. I didn’t even think about it. I was so tired when I got here and so thrilled to catch up with them, I forgot I just revealed them to the world. Would you mind terribly contacting the HIV experts at NYU and then e-mailing me with the contact? I may need to go ahead and move on to New York right away. I have more friends there who can help me with the legal issues.”

  “I’ll do that if you’ll stay until tomorrow and let the antibiotics do some good. And I’ll forget to give the social worker notice until tomorrow morning. Maybe that will help some.”

  “It’s a deal. And thanks again.” Dr. Simpson shook Rosa’s extended hand, then headed down the hallway.

  Rosa stood in the hall for a moment, thanking the good witch managing their journey for letting Dr. Simpson be much kinder than she had imagined possible. She returned to the room to find the kids awake and Daudi eating fruit and drinking juice from the tray that had been left in the room earlier. The other two were helping themselves to the French toast filling the plate.

  “Okay, you three. How about you work on this and I’ll go to the cafeteria and get breakfast for me. I’ll bring back extra for all three of you. I’m sure this one tray of stuff isn’t going to be nearly enough.”

  Masozi grinned. “I am thinking more French toast would be just wonderful, Miss Rosa.” Ramla nodded her agreement. Rosa looked at Daudi. He seemed to be doing better. At least he wasn’t coughing anymore. And he was eating. She felt sure that was a good sign, in spite of what she’d just learned.

/>   “Toast is good,” Daudi said, smiling at Rosa.

  She made the trip to the cafeteria in the basement and back in record time, fearing what could happen to them if she left them alone for any length of time. She was laden with cartons of chocolate milk, along with French toast and bacon in portable containers. When she got back to the room, they feasted on the breakfast goods. Masozi began telling Rosa the tale of their journey, and though he kept her laughing at his exaggerated interpretations of what had been happening, her heart was breaking for the hardships they’d been through on their own. Still, they all seemed in good spirits and Daudi was not coughing.

  Within the hour, the new doctor stopped by and examined Daudi’s chart. He was a large brusque man with a nurse in tow. He checked Daudi’s mouth, listened to his chest, read the chart, and told Rosa that all looked good. He didn’t bring up the HIV status or seem very interested in any of them, moving on quickly to visit his next room. Having already received news from Dr. Simpson and with Daudi receiving medication on a regular schedule, Rosa was just as happy that the doctor didn’t want to pry into their situation any more than he had to.

  “What do we do to pass the time?” Rosa asked after the doctor left.

  “We always pass the time by reading, so I am thinking it is time for Daudi to read now,” Masozi suggested.

  “I am not feeling that good, Masozi,” he protested. “Miss Rosa, would you read to us?” he asked.

  “You got it, champ. Let’s read.” She found his pack in the closet and dug out the book.

  “Where should I start?” she asked. He took the book and let it fall open without concern for it being where they left off the last time. They had read it through so many times and were so familiar with the story that they no longer cared whether they heard it in order or not. They just wanted to be back with their familiar friends, the Scarecrow, the Lion, the Tin Woodsman and Dorothy.

  Rosa cleared her voice and began without hesitation, letting the story carry her along as they leaned in toward her. They all sat on Daudi’s bed, a circle of friends lost in the magic of the road to Oz.