“Dear Heavenly Father,” Jean-Marc began. He prayed for Paulette, Pierre, and their children, and then he prayed for us. Instead of imploring the Lord to make us free of HIV, he asked that God’s will be done and pleaded for the courage to accept His will.
I was proud of Jean-Marc and the example he set for me and the children. He wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was I. We were both merely doing our best.
After the prayer, Josette asked, “What’s wrong with Aunt Paulette?”
I looked to Jean-Marc, and he nodded once, sharply.
“She’s got a disease called AIDS,” I said. “There isn’t a cure. And she’s going to get very sick.”
“You mean die?”
What could I say to my little girl, kneeling on the ground and watching me so intently? She knew little of life and nothing of death—not yet. Eventually she would have to face it—when Paulette died—but surely I could protect her a while longer. I pulled her onto my lap.
“Not right now, honey. Now that the doctors know what she has, they can give her medicine to help her. But like I said, after a few years, she’ll be very sick.”
Josette’s eyes filled with tears. “But does Marie-Thérèse know?”
“Her parents are telling her now.”
“I’m going to keep praying for Aunt Paulette,” Josette said.
They had more questions, and we answered them to the best of our ability, trying not to scare them but to be truthful. Then Jean-Marc told them about our having to be tested.
“It’s just to make sure we don’t get sick,” he said. He looked at me as he added, “We need to know.”
“Could we die?” Marc asked. He didn’t seem frightened, only curious, as if dying might be an adventure.
I didn’t know what to say. Once I would have reassured him, but now I couldn’t. While it was unlikely that Marie-Thérèse or Paulette could have given him HIV, my own life before I was baptized might very well have given him this terrible legacy.
Jean-Marc came to my rescue. “I don’t think we should worry too much,” he said. “We’re all going to be around for a long time. Except, of course, if the tiger gets you. Rrrr!” He flopped onto all fours and pretended to bite Marc’s neck.
The twins screamed in delight, their young minds already discounting any danger, but André came to sit in my lap as if sensing I needed something to hold on to. He was a blessing, one I had often taken for granted. I cuddled him, vowing not to make the mistake again. I would cherish each day with all my children. We watched Jean-Marc and the twins playing on the floor until they tired of the game. At last they stretched out on the mauve carpet, panting.
“Now can we get the spoon out of the soup?” Josette asked suddenly, bringing a smile to our faces. “Marc was going to do it, but I wouldn’t let him.”
“Good for you, Josette. Yes, we can get it out. Does anybody want soup?”
While they were eating, I called the hospital to speak with Pierre.
“Should I come and get Marie-Thérèse?” I asked.
“No. Paulette’s asleep, and I’m going to take Marie-Thérèse home tonight. We’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll bring some clothes for Marie-Thérèse, and perhaps you can watch her for a few days.”
“Of course. We’d love to have her.” My voice wavered. If it turned out Marie-Thérèse had HIV, maybe I wouldn’t be so willing.
“Thanks, Ariana.”
“Would you like to talk with Jean-Marc?”
“What would I say?” he asked. “It’s better to wait until tomorrow. Until I know.”
I hung up and went to put the children to bed. The twins went peacefully, but we had waited too long to put André in his crib. The little boy cried irritably as Jean-Marc tried to change his diaper and dress him. Jean-Marc looked upset, but I knew what to do when André acted this way.
I took André from Jean-Marc and whirled him around the room, singing the theme from the latest Disney movie. His tears disappeared, replaced by a smile. I laid him down and tickled his toes softly. In between the tickling, I got him ready for bed. It really wasn’t difficult to deal with André; you just had to keep him occupied. The twins had been more exacting.
“I didn’t know he ever got like that,” Jean-Marc said as I kissed the baby and tucked him under the covers in his crib.
“How many nights have you been here to see how he acted?” I said without thinking. Jean-Marc frowned. “It’s because he’s tired,” I added, relenting. “He doesn’t normally do this. There’s been too much excitement here tonight.”
“Too much for all of us,” he said. He peered into the twins’ room. Already they were snoring gently.
“Thank you for staying,” I said, moving to stand beside him.
“Thank you for reminding me of what I should be doing.” He held my hand tightly and glanced back into the darkened room, not looking at me as he spoke the next words. “Ari, are you afraid?”
I nodded. “I am.”
His smile flashed so briefly that I wondered if I had imagined it. “Good. Then it’s okay for me to be afraid.” He laughed but without mirth. “It’s funny how it takes a crisis like this before you realize how much you have to lose.” He spoke the words in my own heart.
For a long time we said nothing, simply stood in the doorway, watching the sleeping children. Then Jean-Marc reached out to me and drew me close. Our lips met, and for a short time everything was right with the world. We made our way to our bedroom, lit only by the thin moonlight streaming through the blinds. We embraced tightly, neither of us wanting to let go, silently sharing our hopes and fears as only eternal companions could. Whatever the outcome, we were in this together, and nothing—not even death—would defeat us.
I knew my thoughts were brave; in the reality that Paulette and Pierre were living, there would be much more hardship and sorrow. But tonight, I would not borrow others’ troubles. Tonight I would be with my husband as if eternity were already ours.
Chapter Six
We awoke early Monday morning to go to the hospital. Jean-Marc made breakfast while I readied the children. The tension in the air was palpable, and André, normally so cheerful, was cranky and crying. Jean-Marc tried to comfort him but was unable to make him feel better. I took the baby from his arms, and after a few minutes he was quiet. Jean-Marc seemed angry, but I didn’t understand why. I assumed he was worried about the tests.
We were ready to leave when the doorbell rang. “Who could that be?” I muttered. Jean-Marc opened the door to reveal Louise, a suitcase in either hand.
“I’m here,” she announced. She dropped her cases and hugged her son, kissing him several times on each cheek in the French custom. “A young man let me in the door downstairs so I didn’t have to buzz you. He was coming out as I arrived.”
Jean-Marc darted a questioning glance over his shoulder, and I shrugged apologetically. In the upheaval caused by learning of Paulette’s AIDS, I had completely forgotten about Louise’s visit.
“Grandma!” shouted the twins, rushing forward with outstretched arms. Jean-Marc stood back to allow them room.
Louise was a plump woman in her late fifties. She had lustrous dark brown hair that showed no signs of graying, though I knew she had help from her hairstylist to make it so. But the youthful hair matched her indomitable spirit. She had been widowed when Jean-Marc was seven and for many years had been the backbone of their family, not only managing their grocery store but supporting both sons on their missions.
“Ariana, as beautiful as ever,” she said, coming forward to kiss me.
Jean-Marc and I stood silently, neither of us knowing how to tell her the news about Paulette.
“Where’s Lu-Lu?” I asked.
“She went in to work today to finish some things and to tell them she’ll be gone for a week. I told her it was a family crisis and that they’d understand if she called from here, but she insisted.” Louise sniffed. “She’s taking the plane later today. She said for me not to worry about
picking her up, either,” she added tersely. “Lu-Lu said she knows how to use a taxi.”
It seemed that Lu-Lu really was growing up, and her mother wasn’t enjoying the process.
Louise heaved a frustrated sigh. “I need to rest. How about showing Grandma to a chair?” she asked the children. Unlike my own mother, she had a few health problems, including an ulcer, varicose veins, and painful arthritis. It had been a relief for her when Pierre had sold their store and she could retire.
“But we’re going to the hospital for a test,” Josette said.
“Yeah, they take your blood out and everything,” Marc added with relish.
Louise glanced up at us, instantly understanding that something terrible had happened. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“It’s Paulette,” I said.
“The baby?”
I shook my head, glancing at Jean-Marc for help.
“Paulette has AIDS,” he explained gently. He repeated everything Pierre had told me at the hospital, leaving nothing out. “Now we all need to be tested.”
“Oh, Jean-Marc!” Louise lost her composure and began weeping. He hugged her for long moments as she sobbed.
“I’m going with you,” Louise finally said through her tears. She wiped her large hands over her red face, as if to cover the fact that she had been crying.
It was a very subdued group that filed into the hospital. My parents were there waiting, and each picked up one of the twins. With a flash, I remembered how they had picked up Antoine and me at that same age. How young they had been then! And how certain of the future. But Antoine died, and now they were afraid of losing someone they loved again.
The antiseptic smell of the hospital drifted into my nose and seemed to settle in my stomach, making me feel nauseated. I was grateful to feel Jean-Marc’s arm around my shoulders; there were no walls between us now.
The nurses at the lab drew blood quickly and efficiently. Little Marc watched in fascination, but Josette squeezed her eyes shut tight. Neither cried, nor did André, but all of the adults had tears in their eyes, stemming from fear of the virus and not from the needle.
“If you call after nine in the morning, we’ll give you the results,” the nurse said, removing her gloves. Her voice was clipped and remote, making me want to shake her. Our whole lives hung in the balance, but for her it was just another test.
“Thank you,” said Jean-Marc.
“Will you stay home to call with me?” I asked quietly as we moved down the hall. He seemed surprised at the question, but I had to know.
“I’ll take the whole morning off,” he said.
We went to see Paulette. They had moved her to another wing where all the patients were terminally ill, including many with AIDS. To me, even the corridor smelled like death. However, the nurses we saw didn’t stare at us with pity, and their smiles were genuine. I guessed Paulette was lucky that this hospital was equipped to deal with her sickness.
“Your mother and I will be in the waiting room,” my father said. Once more he held Josette in his arms.
Jean-Marc looked at the twins. “You stay with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“But I want to see Marie-Thérèse,” Josette protested.
“She’s coming home with us,” I said. “You and Marc can play with her then.”
“And remember, I’ll not have any horsing around here,” Jean-Marc warned, staring pointedly at Marc.
“Okay,” the boy said, the picture of innocence.
“Would you like to leave André with us, too?” my mother asked.
“No, he won’t understand anyway.” I held my baby tightly.
Jean-Marc’s arm went around my shoulders again, and I was comforted.
As we approached the room, our steps slowed in trepidation. Louise knocked and, at a faint sound from inside, pushed open the door. Paulette lay curled on her side with one arm covering her face. She breathed heavily, and once again we could hear the hiss of the oxygen in the quiet of the room. Pierre, by her side, was strangely calm. His face was still pallid, but the red eyes had disappeared. Marie-Thérèse sat on his lap watching her mother sadly, eyes red and puffy as if she had been crying.
Pierre stood up as we entered, and Marie-Thérèse slipped to the floor. She didn’t run to play with André or to greet her grandmother as she normally did but simply regarded us gravely. Jean-Marc stepped forward and silently hugged his brother. No one spoke for a long moment, and the tension in the room built.
“Well?” It was Louise who broke the silence.
Pierre’s face was visible over Jean-Marc’s shoulder. His lower lip quivered, the only sign of his inner turmoil. He broke away and hugged his mother briefly before speaking. When he did, his voice was low, almost a whisper, and very hoarse. “Marie-Thérèse doesn’t have the virus,” he said.
“But you do,” Louise stated.
He nodded. “I do. Of course, it may be years yet until . . .” His voice dropped away as if he were too tired to finish the explanation or as if to say, “What difference could my words make? It won’t change the fact that I’m going to die.” The unfinished sentence and the tragic calm on his face revealed more about what he was feeling than any words he could have said.
I didn’t know what to do for him. My mind grasped at the only consolation it could find. Marie-Thérèse at least would live! I handed André to Louise and knelt to hug the little girl, unable to stop the tears. “Oh, thank you, Lord,” I whispered over and over, hugging her. She clung to me with one arm; in the other she held her rag doll.
“I’m okay, Aunt Ariana,” she whispered. “It’s Mommy who’s sick. But she’s going to get better.” Her words showed me that like my own children, she had no real understanding of death or the illness that had her mother in its fatal grip.
“Why don’t you go out in the waiting room and see your cousins?” Jean-Marc suggested. “They’re with Ari’s parents,” he said in further explanation to Paulette and Pierre.
A smile lit Marie-Thérèse’s face. Jean-Marc moved to the door and opened it for her, and then he walked with her down the hall, making sure she was delivered safely into the care of my parents. When he returned, Louise spoke.
“What about the baby?” She had tears on her worn cheeks, but she maintained her composure. She gave André back to me and walked to the head of the bed. One rough hand touched Paulette’s hair gingerly.
“They won’t know until she’s born, unless we want to take a test that may cause her to abort,” Paulette said sadly. “We don’t want to risk it.”
A knock at the door came, and Louise opened it. A nurse entered, carrying a tray of food. She was short, with skin the color of dark chocolate and full lips painted a rich red. “How are you today, Paulette?” she asked kindly.
Paulette groaned, but she let the nurse help her to a sitting position. “I’m not hungry,” she said petulantly.
“I know, but you have to eat to keep up your strength. If not for yourself, then for your baby.”
It had been the right thing to say. Paulette began to eat, without appetite but steadily.
The nurse chattered happily as she went about her work straightening the pillow, checking the charts, and watching the monitors. “It looks like you’re holding steady,” she said cheerfully. “That’s a good sign.”
“This is Giselle,” Pierre said to us. “She’s been assigned to Paulette.”
“Glad to meet you,” I said sincerely. She was certainly a lot better than the silent, mean-looking nurse who had taken care of Paulette before.
“And you are?” Giselle’s face seemed to shine with a happiness that should be out of place in this room. Instead, I found her manner refreshing.
Pierre made introductions. Giselle looked at each of us intently, as if putting our faces in her memory. “It’s nice to meet you all,” she said. “It’s good to see Paulette has so much support.” She turned and faced the bed. “I’ll be back in a little while for your tray and to take your temperature
and blood pressure before I go off shift. The doctor also wants another blood sample. We need to get you up and home, don’t we?”
Paulette nodded, but I could see the fear in her face. Giselle did too. “It’s all right,” she said. “AIDS is a terrible disease, but you can have a good life for as long as you have left. It’s what any of us try to do, really. It’s all in the attitude.”
I was beginning to like this nurse. She was exactly what we needed.
“We’re all here for you,” Jean-Marc said after Giselle had left. “Tell us, please, what can we do?”
Pierre looked at him gratefully. “There’s nothing now. Just taking care of Marie-Thérèse has been a big help.”
“Has she had a blessing?” He motioned to Paulette.
Pierre nodded. “I gave her one yesterday morning.”
“Will you watch Marie-Thérèse again, Ariana?” Paulette asked, her spoon pausing in mid-air.
“You know I will.”
“Could everybody leave so I can talk with Ariana for a minute?” Paulette asked. The group nodded and filed out the door. Only André stayed with us. He put his hand in my short hair, tugging gently. I pushed his hand away and kissed his forehead.
I waited, but Paulette didn’t speak. “So what now?” I asked.
“I’m afraid, Ari,” Paulette said. “I mean, I’m going home when I’m over the pneumonia, but I’m afraid of getting Marie-Thérèse sick. For Pierre it’s too late, but for her . . .”
“I won’t do it,” I said, knowing what she was going to ask. “Marie-Thérèse needs you now. She needs to build memories that will last a lifetime, after you’re gone. I won’t take that away from her.”
“Memories of me being sick? Of me wasting away until I die?” Paulette bit her lip to stifle tears. “What good could that possibly do my baby?”
“During the bad days, I’ll gladly take her. But don’t leave her yet. You have to give her time to adjust. You could have years left. You can’t push her aside.”
The Ariana Trilogy Page 25