To Karen, she joked about the gray hairs Willie was sure to cause her in the upcoming years and begged her friend to make this third marriage work. To Charlotte, she said, Don’t give up on babies; they’re the mark we leave in this world. If you can’t have one of your own, find one to adopt and love her with all you’ve got. Gina was more difficult. For almost an hour they were together, Claire dozing off every now and then, Gina standing by the bedside, trying not to cry.
Take care of my family, Claire said at last, fighting to keep her eyes open.
Take care of them yourself, Gina had responded, her voice spiking for humor that it couldn’t reach. Then, softly, she said, You know I will.
They were awkward, painful partings, full of things unsaid and boundaries upheld. They all pretended Claire would still be here tomorrow night, laughing and screwing up as she always had. She left her friends with that faith, and though she wanted to own it for herself, hope felt like a borrowed sweater that didn’t quite fit.
She was bone tired, but most of all, she was afraid. Dr. Weissman had been guarded in his optimism and blunt in his assessment of the risk. A bad outlook all the way around, he’d said. The worst part of her fear was how alone it made her feel. There was no one she could tell.
Time and again throughout the long, drawn-out day, she found herself wishing that she’d died already, simply floated from this world unexpectedly. There was no way to be stealthy now, not with all her loved ones in the waiting room, praying for her, and the thought of the good-byes she still had left was devastating. Bobby and Sam would hold her and cry; she’d have to be ready for that. Meg would get angry and loud.
And then there was Ali. How could Claire possibly get through that?
The hospital had a small nondenominational chapel on the second floor.
Meghann stood outside it, paused in the open doorway. It had been years since she’d gone to a church in search of comfort; decades, in fact.
Slowly, she went inside, let the door ease shut behind her. Her footsteps were hushed and even on the mustard-colored carpet. She slid into the middle pew and knelt on the floor. There was no cushion for her knees, but she knelt anyway. It seemed right to be on her knees when she asked for a miracle.
She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “I’m Meghann Dontess,” she said by way of introduction. “I’m sure you’ve forgotten me. I haven’t talked to you since … oh … the ninth grade, I think. That’s when I prayed for enough money to get Claire ballet lessons. Then Mama got fired again and we moved on. I … stopped believing you could help.” She thought of Claire upstairs, so pale and tired-looking in that hospital bed, and of the risks the surgery entailed. “She’s one of the good ones, God. Please. Protect her. Don’t let Ali grow up without her mom.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slid down her cheeks and plopped on her hands. She wanted to say more, maybe find a way to bargain, but she had nothing to offer beyond desperation.
Behind her, the door opened, closed. Someone walked down the aisle.
Meghann wiped her eyes and eased back onto the pew.
“Meg?”
She looked up, surprised. Sam stood beside her, his big body hunched in defeat, his eyes a watery red. “She’s saying good-bye to her girlfriends.”
“I know.”
“I can’t stand watching each one come out of her room. The minute they close the door, their smiles fade and the crying starts.”
Meghann had run from the same thing. “She’s lucky to have so many friends.”
“Yeah. Can I join you?”
She sidled to the right, making room. He sat down beside her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, but they didn’t touch, didn’t speak.
Finally Sam said, “I was thirty years old when you called me.”
She frowned. “Oh.” What did he want her to say?
“I had no brothers and sisters and no other children.”
“I know that, Sam. You pointed it out every time I screwed up.”
He sighed. “I was pissed at Eliana. She’d denied me my daughter’s childhood. All those years I’d been alone when I didn’t have to be … and the way you and Claire lived from hand to mouth. I couldn’t stand it.”
“I know that.”
He twisted around to face her. “Claire was easy. She looked up at me with those big, trusting eyes and said, Hi, Daddy; just like that, I fell in love. But you.” He shook his head. “You scared the shit out of me. You were tough and mouthy and you thought everything I said to Claire was wrong. I didn’t know you were just being a teenager. I thought you were like …”
“Mama.”
“Yeah. And I didn’t want Claire to be hurt. It took me a while—years—to see that you weren’t like Ellie. By then it was too late.”
“Maybe I am like Mama,” she said quietly.
“No,” he said fiercely. “You’ve been Claire’s rock through this nightmare. You have the kind of heart that saves people, even if you don’t believe it. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that when I was younger.”
“A lot of things have become clearer lately.”
“Yeah.” He sat back in the pew. “I don’t see how I’ll get through this,” Sam said.
Meghann had no answer. How could she, when the question haunted her as well?
A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time it was Bobby. He looked terrible.
“She wants to see Ali,” he whispered harshly. “I can’t do it.”
Sam made a fluttery sound. “Oh, God.”
“I’ll do it,” Meg said, slowly rising.
Claire must have fallen asleep again. When she woke, the sunlight outside had faded, leaving the room a soft, silvery color.
“Mommy’s awake.”
She saw her daughter then. Ali clung to Meghann like a little monkey, arms wrapped around her aunt’s neck, feet locked around her waist.
Claire made a quiet, whimpering sound before she rallied and pulled out a tired smile. The only way to get through this moment was to pretend there would be another. For Ali, she had to believe in a miracle.
“Hey there, Ali Kat. I hear you’re eating all the cinnamon rolls in the cafeteria.”
Alison giggled. “Only three, Mommy. Aunt Meg said if I had one more I’d throw up.”
Claire opened her arms. “Come here, baby.”
Meg leaned forward and gently deposited Ali into Claire’s thin arms. She hugged her daughter tightly, couldn’t seem to let go. She was battling tears and hanging on to her smile by a thread when she whispered into her daughter’s tiny, shell-pink ear, “You remember how much I love you.”
“I know, Mommy,” Ali said, burrowing closer. She lay still as a sleeping baby, quieter than she’d lain in years. That was when Claire knew that Ali understood, but when her daughter leaned closer to say, “I told God I’d never ask for Cap’n Crunch again if He made you all better,” Claire felt something inside her tear away. She clung to her daughter for as long as she could. “Take her home,” she finally said when the pain became more than she could bear.
Meghann was there instantly, pulling Ali into her arms again.
But Ali wiggled out of Meg’s grasp and slithered to the molded plastic chair beside the bed. She stood there, on the wobbly chair, staring at Claire.
“I don’t want you to die, Mommy,” she said in a husky little voice.
It hurt too much even to cry. Claire looked at her precious baby and managed a smile. “I know that, punkin, and I love you more than all the stars in the sky. Now you skedaddle on home with Grandpa and Bobby. I hear they’re going to take you to see a movie.”
Meghann picked Ali up again. Claire could see that she was near tears, too. “Make Bobby go home,” she said to her sister. “He’s been here every night. Tell him I said Ali needs him tonight.”
Meg reached out, squeezed her hand. “We need you.”
Claire sighed. “I need to sleep now” was all she could think of to say.
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Hours later, Claire came awake with a start. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt light-headed. For a split second, she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw the flowers and the machines. If she squinted, she could make out the wall clock. Moonlight glinted on the domed glass face. It was 4:00.
In a few hours, they’d crack her skull open.
She started to panic, then saw Meg was in the corner, sprawled in one of those uncomfortable chairs, sleeping.
“Meg,” she whispered, hitting her control button; the bed tilted upward. The buzzing of the machinery sounded loud, but Meghann didn’t wake.
“Meg,” she said in a louder voice.
Meghann sat upright and looked around. “Did I miss the test?”
“Over here.”
Meghann blinked, pushed a hand through her wild, tangled hair. “Is it time?”
“No. We have four more hours.”
Meghann got up, dragged the chair over to the bed. “Did you sleep?”
“Off and on. The prospect of someone cracking your skull open keeps a girl wide-awake.” Claire glanced out the window at the moonlight. Suddenly, she was so afraid, she was shaking. All the veneer of bravery she’d applied for her family and friends had worn off, leaving her vulnerable. “Do you remember what I used to do when I had a nightmare?”
“You used to crawl into bed with me.”
“Yeah. That old cot in the trailer’s living room.” Claire smiled. “It smelled like spilled bourbon and cigarette smoke, and it was too small for the two of us. But when I got into bed and you hugged me, I thought nothing could hurt me.” She looked up at Meghann, then very gently peeled back the blanket.
Meghann hesitated, then climbed into bed with Claire, drawing her close. If she noticed how thin Claire had gotten, she didn’t comment on it.
“How come we forgot all the things that mattered?”
“I was an idiot.”
“We wasted a lot of time.”
“I’m sorry,” Meg said. “I should have said that a long time ago.”
Claire reached for Meg’s hand, held it. “I’m going to ask you something, Meg, and I don’t want any of your bullshit to get in the way. I can’t ask this twice; saying each word is like swallowing broken glass. If the worst happens, I want you to be a part of Ali’s life. She’ll need a mother.”
Meg squeezed Claire’s hand so tightly it cut off the blood flow to her fingers. Long seconds passed before she answered in a throaty voice, “I’ll make sure she always remembers you.”
Claire nodded; she couldn’t speak.
After that, they lay in the darkness, each holding the other one together until dawn lit the room and the doctors took Claire away.
Meghann stood at the window, staring out at the jumble of beige buildings across the street. In the three hours since they’d taken Claire to surgery, Meghann had counted every window and every door in this view. Twenty-three people had passed the corner of Broadway and James. Another sixteen had stood in line outside the tiny Starbucks.
Someone tugged on her sleeve. Meghann looked down. There was Alison, staring up at her. “I’m thirsty.”
Meghann stared into those bright green eyes and almost burst into tears. “Okay, honey,” she said instead, scooping Ali into her arms. Forcing herself not to squeeze the girl too hard, she carried her down to the cafeteria.
“I want a Pepsi Blue. That’s what you got me last time.”
“It’s only eleven in the morning. Juice is better for you.”
“You sound like Mommy.”
Meg swallowed hard. “Did you know your Mommy loved Tab when she was little? And Fresca. But I made her drink orange juice.”
Meghann paid for the juice, then carried Alison back to the waiting room. But when she leaned over to put Ali down, the girl squeezed harder.
“Oh, Ali,” Meg said, holding her niece. She wanted to promise that Mommy would be better, but the words caught in her throat.
She sat down, still holding Ali, and stroked her hair. Within minutes, the child was asleep.
From across the room, Gina looked up, saw her holding Ali, then went back to her crossword puzzle. Sam, Mama, Bobby, Karen, and Charlotte were playing cards. Joe sat off in the corner, reading a magazine. He hadn’t looked up in hours, hadn’t spoken to anyone. But then, none of them had spoken much. What was there to say?
Around noon, the surgical nurse came out, told them all that it would be several more hours.
“You should get something to eat,” she said, shaking her head. “It won’t help Claire if you all pass out.”
Sam nodded, stood up. “Come on,” he said to everyone. “Let’s get out of here for a while. Lunch is on me.”
“I’ll stay here,” Meghann said. Food was the last thing on her mind. “Ali needs the sleep.”
Bobby squeezed her shoulder. “You want us to bring you something back?”
“Maybe a sandwich for Ali—peanut butter and jelly.”
“You got it.”
When they’d gone, Meghann leaned back in her chair, rested her head against the wall. In her arms, Ali snored quietly. It seemed like yesterday that Meg had held Claire this way, telling her baby sister that everything would be okay.
“It’s been almost four hours, damn it. What’re they all doin’ in there, anyway?”
Meg looked up. Mama stood there, holding an unlit Virginia Slims cigarette. Her makeup had faded a little, been smudged off in places, and without it, she looked faded, too. “I thought you went out for lunch with everyone.”
“Eat cafeteria food? I don’t think so. I’ll eat an early dinner in my hotel suite.”
“Have a seat, Mama.”
Her mother collapsed into the molded plastic chair beside her. “This is the worst day of my life, honest to God. An that’s sayin’ something.”
“It’s hard. Waiting.”
“I should go find Sam. Maybe he’ll want to play cards or somethin’.”
“Why did you leave him, Mama?”
“He’s a good man” was all Mama said.
At first, Meghann thought it wasn’t an answer. Then she understood.
Mama had run away because Sam was a good man. Meghann could relate to that kind of fear.
“There are things I should have said,” Mama whispered, gesturing impatiently with her unlit cigarette. “But I never was too good without a script.”
“None of us talks really well.”
“And thank God. Talkin’ doesn’t change a thing.” Mama stood up suddenly. “Talkin’ to reporters always cheers me up. Bye, Meggy. I’ll be across the street when”—her voice trembled—“y’all hear that she’s fine.” With that, she sailed out of the waiting room, her smile Hollywood bright.
One hour bled into the next until finally, around 4:00, Dr. Weissman came into the waiting room. Meghann was the first to see him. She tightened her hold on Ali and got to her feet. Bobby stood next; then Sam and Mama; then Joe, Gina, Karen, and Charlotte. In a silent group, they moved toward the doctor, who rubbed a hand through his thinning hair and managed a tired smile.
“The surgery went well.”
“Thank God,” they whispered together.
“But she’s a long way from out of the woods. The tumor was more invasive than we thought.” He looked up at Joe. “The next few hours will tell us more.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Claire woke up in recovery feeling groggy and confused. A headache pounded behind her eyes. She was about to hit her call button and ask for an Advil when it struck her.
She was alive.
She tested her memory by counting to one hundred and trying to list all the towns she’d lived in as a child, but she’d only made it to Barstow when the first of the nurses came in. After that, she was poked and prodded and tested until she couldn’t think.
Her family took turns sitting with her. Two of her most vivid postsurgery memories were of Bobby, sitting by her bed, holding an ice pack to her head for hours
at a time, and of her dad, feeding her ice chips when she got thirsty. Meghann had brought in Ali’s newest drawing; this one was three brightly colored stick figures standing by a river. In an uncertain scrawl across the bottom it read: I love you Momy.
By the second full postop day, Claire had become irritable. She hurt now; her body ached everywhere and the bruises on her forehead from the iron halo had begun to throb like hell. They wouldn’t give her much in the way of pain medication because they didn’t want to mask any surgical aftereffects.
“I feel like shit,” she said to Meghann, who sat in the chair by the window.
“You look like shit.”
Claire managed to smile. “Again with the bedside manner. Do you think they’ll come soon?”
Meghann looked up from her book, which Claire noticed was upside down. “I’ll check again.” Meg put the book down and stood up as the door opened.
Claire’s day-shift nurse, Dolores, walked into the room, smiling. She was pushing an empty wheelchair. “It’s time for your MRI.”
Claire panicked. Suddenly she didn’t want to go, didn’t want to know. She felt better. That was good enough—
Meghann came to her side, squeezed her hand. The touch was enough to get Claire over the hump. “Okay, Dolores. Take me away.”
When they rolled into the hallway, Bobby was there, waiting for them. “Is it time?”
It was Meghann who answered. “It is.”
Bobby held Claire’s hand all the way to Nuclear Medicine. It took an act of will to leave them behind and go down that familiar white hallway alone.
A few minutes later, as she lay once again in the jackhammer coffin of the MRI, she visualized a clean, clear scan of her brain, saw it so clearly that by the time it was over, her temples were wet with tears.
Bobby, Meghann, and Dolores were waiting for her when she was finished.
Dolores helped Claire into the wheelchair, then positioned her slippered feet on the footrests. Back to the room they went.
After that, the waiting was unbearable. Meghann paced the small hospital room; Bobby squeezed Claire’s hand so tightly she lost all feeling in her fingers. Sam came in every few minutes.
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