By the time I pull the scrubs over my clothes and push through the double doors, Caroline is flat on her back, her arms stretched out at her sides and strapped to the table as though she’s Jesus on a horizontal cross. A curtain has been erected at her neck, blocking the view of everything south of her shoulders.
Grace appears beside me and ushers me over to Caroline, then procures a chair and sets it next to my sister-in-law’s head. I sit down and cover her hand with mine. She turns and gazes at me, then smiles wearily.
“Hi, Meg.”
“Hi, Caroline. How do you feel?” Dumb question, I know.
“I love spinal blocks,” she says. “It’s too bad they’re not available over the counter.”
“I talked to Danny. He told me to tell you that he loves you. He said a bunch of other things but they’re too cheesy for me to repeat out loud.”
She smiles, then closes her eyes. On the other side of the curtain, Dr. Laramy talks to his staff in low tones. I can’t make out what he’s saying, nor can I decipher the nurse’s murmured response.
“Caroline,” he calls. “Can you feel this? Or this?”
Caroline shakes her head.
“No,” I report.
“Excellent. We’re good to go.”
“Fetal heart rate’s at 100 and dropping,” the nurse reports in a monotone.
“Let’s get this done,” Dr. Laramy replies.
“I was in labor for twenty-six hours with Cera,” Caroline tells me. I nod and she continues. “McKenna was sixteen. Tebow was only eight.”
“Wow.”
“I won’t be in labor at all with Delphinia.”
“Delphinia?” I say, horrified.
“Kidding,” she says. “It’s okay, you know? Not being in labor this time. Labor sucks.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“It’s the worst thing ever. Take the sharpest pain you’ve ever felt, set it on fire, then multiply it by a thousand and endure it for hours and hours and hours until you’re praying for death.”
“Wow, sounds like fun.”
The lower half of Caroline’s body starts to jerk back and forth violently, reminding me of the opening scene in the movie Jaws.
I glance at Dr. Laramy. His face is partially obscured by a surgical mask, but he looks tense. He says something to the nurses. Again, I can’t make out his words, but by the timbre of his voice, I can tell he’s not talking about sunshine and lollipops.
Caroline peers up at me, scrutinizing my expression, like McKenna did yesterday. And just like yesterday, I struggle to keep my expression placid.
“Something’s wrong,” she says, tightening her grip on my hand.
“No, Caroline. Everything’s fine. Right as rain.” I’m not sure this is true, but it feels like the right thing to say.
“What’s going on? What’s the doctor saying? Why is it taking so long?”
“Mom’s BP is spiking,” the anesthesiologist says.
“Caroline?” Dr. Laramy calls over the curtain. “I need you to calm down, okay? Take some deep relaxing breaths, close your eyes and think of your favorite place. Your blood pressure is on the rise, and that could be problematic.”
“But I don’t know what’s going on! What is he not telling me, Meg? Oh, God, where is Danny?”
“Caroline, take it easy. Seriously. Danny will be here soon.”
“Danny keeps me calm. He does. I’m not good at this part. I’m good at everything else, but not this part. What if something happens to the baby? What if they can’t get the baby out in time? What if it’s—”
“How does he do it?” I ask, trying to interrupt her thoughts. “How does Danny keep you calm?”
“What?”
“Mom’s pressure is still rising.”
“How does Danny keep you calm?” I repeat.
“He sings to me.”
“We may need sedation,” Dr. Laramy says.
I reach over and stroke Caroline’s forehead, then clear my throat. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night/ Take these broken wings—”
“I hate that fucking song, Meg!” she shrieks and I stop.
“Sorry.” I wrack my brain. The first song that comes to mind is Aerosmith. “Dude looks like a lady…”
Caroline grimaces. “Seriously?”
I think for a moment, then start to sing. “Lean on me. When you’re not strong. And I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on. For it won’t be long till I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.”
“Talk about cheesy,” Caroline snipes, but she’s grinning.
“What can I say? It runs in the family.” I continue with the song and slowly feel the tension drain from Caroline’s hand.
“Okay, Mom’s BP is stabilizing.”
“Great, Caroline, that’s it. Great job, Auntie,” Dr. Laramy calls.
A few minutes later, after a couple more jarring tugs on Caroline’s lower body, a high-pitched, eardrum-shattering wail fills the room. Instantly, the nurses tear down the curtain, and Dr. Laramy holds up a pinkish grey blob covered with whitish goo and a cap of wet red hair plastered to its skull.
“It’s a girl!” one of the nurses calls out.
I’m torn between awestruck wonder at the idea of a brand new human being coming into the world and the actuality of the little gooey, wrinkled, screaming, creature before me. This strange, flailing blob is Danny and Caroline’s miracle. She will bring them untold joy and unending heartache. She will fill their hearts with love and their nights with sleepless worry. She will carry on their bloodline, their DNA. She is their future.
I am overwhelmed by the complexity of my emotions, and my tears are sudden and fierce.
“Here’s your daughter, Caroline,” Dr. Laramy says.
“My daughter,” Caroline breathes. “I knew it.”
“While I’m putting you back together, Lucy and Erica are going to clean her up and do an APGAR, and then you’ll get to hold her.”
I can barely see Caroline through my own tears, but she is crying too, tears of joy and gratitude. She squeezes my hand.
“Go with her,” she says and it’s not a request. She lets go of my hand and I rise, then follow the nurses on shaky legs.
I watch as they wipe, poke, prod, squeeze and check little Xthanthia’s eyes (or whatever the hell my brother and Caroline are going to call the poor girl).
“APGAR’s a nine,” the older of the two nurses says.
“Is that good?” I ask, concerned. I mean if we’re talking about a scale of one to a hundred…
“Almost perfect,” the younger nurse says.
Just then, Grace strides over to the table. She elbows her way between her coworkers and sets about wrapping the baby in a light pink blanket. When she’s through, the baby looks like an over-sized burrito. The nurse fits a tiny pink cap over her head, then lifts her off the table and looks at me.
“Would you like to take your niece back to her mom?”
“No!” I shake my head vigorously. “God, no! What if I drop her?”
“Just hold her tight. But not too tight. You can do it.”
I continue to shake my head even as Grace holds the baby out to me.
“No, really. I’m bad with kids. I can’t even keep track of a toddler. And this one, she’s not even ten minutes old.”
“It’s a half a dozen steps over to mom,” Grace says. “That’s it. Take her.” She gives me a meaningful look as she passes the little burrito over to me.
At first, the baby feels awkward in my arms, but after making a couple of minute adjustments to my hold and position, she fits fine. I look down at her face, her pale peach skin, her chubby cheeks. Her eyes open for a fraction of a second, then close, then open again and our eyes meet. I can see the intelligence in hers, as if her baby brain is already trying to figure things out.
“Hi, Little One,” I whisper. “I’m Auntie Meg. It’s nice to meet you.”
She looks at me for a long moment, then thrusts her pink tongue out of he
r mouth. I’m surprised by how long it is. Honestly, Gene Simmons would be impressed. She lolls it around for a few seconds, then starts sucking on it vigorously.
“She’s hungry,” Grace says. “She needs Mom.”
I nod, then walk over to Caroline. My sister-in-law’s arms have been released from her restraints, and she reaches out impatiently, making the ‘gimme’ gesture with her hands.
“Oh, my baby, my girl,” she cries as I hand the baby to her. “Look at you. You’re beautiful, yes. I’m so happy to finally see you!”
I’m captivated by the scene before me, but after a moment, I realize I should give mother and daughter some alone time. I take a few steps backwards until I feel the double doors against my ass. I push through to the hallway, then I turn and head for the bench along the wall.
Just as I collapse onto the bench, Danny swings around the corner carrying Tebow in his arms, with Cera and McKenna on his heels. To my delight, the girls are holding each other’s hand. I stand up to greet them, and for a split second, I marvel at how big the kids seem after being with a newborn.
“She’s fine. They’re fine. It’s all good.”
“Oh, thank you, Jesus. Thank you, thank you. Shit!”
“Daddy said shit again,” McKenna cries.
“Yeah, that’s like the fourteenth time,” Cera chimes in.
“Shish!” cries Tebow.
I pull my nephew from Danny’s grasp, and the toddler comes to me without hesitation.
“I’ll take the kids to the cafeteria for some ice cream,” I say. “You go on in. Have some time with Caroline and the baby. Call my cell when you’re ready for these guys to meet their new sister.”
Danny nods, then his eyes go wide. “Sister?”
“She’s beautiful, Danny. Congratulations.”
“I have another sister?” McKenna squeals, delighted. “That’s so cool!”
Cera smiles and looks at McKenna. “Yeah. Sisters are awesome.”
“I totally agree,” Danny says, tears spilling down his cheeks.
I swipe at my eyes then gesture toward the OR. “Get in there, Bro. They’re waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Meg. You’ll be okay with them?”
“We’ll be great,” I assure him.
He hurries past me, but just as he reaches the double doors, Grace intercepts him with a pair of scrubs. She winks at me and I grin. Danny scrambles into the scrubs and nearly topples over as he tries to yank both legs over his jeans.
I stifle a laugh, then turn and grab McKenna’s free hand.
With the four of us connected, we wander down the hall in search of the cafeteria.
* * *
A couple of hours have passed and the rehab is quiet. Most of the patients have settled down for the night and the evening staff has taken over. I emerge from the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face in a failed attempt to reduce the swelling around my bloodshot eyes. I still look like a raccoon—this is why I don’t like to cry, people!
I pass the nurses’ station and nod to Grace who is going over the day’s events with her replacement. She nods back and smiles.
I slowly open the door to Caroline’s room and peer inside. Everyone is asleep. Cera and McKenna are smooshed together in a chair with McKenna’s head resting on Cera’s shoulder. Tebow sleeps against Danny’s chest while my brother makes dying walrus noises, his head thrown back against the chair rest, his mouth wide open. Caroline holds the baby in the crook of her arm, and I watch as their chests rise and fall in unison.
I approach my sister-in-law and quietly pull an empty chair over to the side of the bed. She opens her eyes and looks up at me.
“Sorry to wake you,” I whisper.
“I wasn’t asleep.” She gestures to Danny and grins. “How can anyone sleep with that racquet?”
“Your kids don’t seem to have any problem.”
“You’re right. Even this one’s sleeping through it.” She kisses the baby’s head over the cap. “Fast learner.”
“I talked to Buddy earlier. He’s going to have Bettina bring him over tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Meg. And, thanks for before.” She smiles sheepishly. “I kind of freaked out, didn’t I?”
“Nah. You did great.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you. That’s the truth. Who’d have guessed it, huh? You and me? Working together on something?”
“Well, Caroline, this was something important. That’s what family does, right? They pull together for the big stuff.”
“I know. I just didn’t know that you knew.”
“I didn’t before,” I tell her, and am surprised that admitting the truth doesn’t hurt, at least not a lot. “But I do now.”
“Hey, Meg,” Caroline says, looking up at me. “I’m glad we’re family.”
I grasp her left hand and give it a squeeze. “Me too.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and in that space of time, years of animosity and unfounded hostility fall away as if it were never there to begin with.
My eyes travel from my sister-in-law’s lovely face down to her new daughter’s face, and I can’t help but smile at the flushed apple cheeks and the way she touches her own lips with the tips of her tiny fingers. “She’s a beauty, Caroline.”
“Yeah, she is,” Caroline agrees proudly. “I think she looks a little bit like you.”
I shake my head. “No way. She’s too pretty.” I reach over and tentatively stroke her cheek. “So, what did you guys decide? Aspasia or Euthanasia?”
“The name’s Euthalia, and actually, we went in a different direction.”
I cock my head at Caroline and she gives me a meaningful look. “We decided to call her Katherine.”
I feel a tingle in the back of my throat and I reflexively clench my teeth. “Isn’t that a little plain?” I joke.
“Not at all,” Caroline says. “You like it?”
“I lost Tebow.” The words spring out of my mouth before I can stop them. “In Bloomingdales. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d kill me, and then I didn’t because we were just starting to get along and I was glad and I didn’t want to rock the boat. But I can’t let you…you shouldn’t name your daughter after me.”
Caroline is silent for a few seconds, and I mentally prepare myself for her outrage. She refuses to meet my eyes when she finally speaks.
“I lost McKenna. At TJ Maxx.” My eyes go wide with surprise. Perfect Caroline lost her daughter? Wow. Talk about absolution by way of confession. “I never told Danny. But, God. It was awful. They had to call my name over the loudspeaker. The humiliation was almost more than I could bear.”
“I know what you mean.”
“It happens, Meg. And we’re not calling her Katherine because everything you did this week was right. We’re calling her Katherine because you being here this week was right. And we hope someday our daughter grows up to be as strong and as smart and as good as her Auntie. Is that okay?”
I’m afraid that if I open my mouth to answer, I’ll start to cry again, so I merely nod my head. When the wave of emotion passes, I gulp in some air, let it out on a sigh, then lean in and gaze at my new niece, my namesake—well, middle namesake, anyway. I breathe in her baby smell, then whisper in her ear so that Caroline can’t hear me.
“Katherine, huh? Well, I’m still going to call you Spaz.”
Twenty-four
Barry: People change all the time, Meg. Like the Grinch. And Ebenezer Scrooge.
Meg: I’m talking about real people, Bar. What real people can you name that have actually changed their lives?
Barry: (pause) Transgenders?
Meg: Okay, Barry. You got me there.
* * *
I awaken at six-thirty on Sunday morning feeling refreshed and energized. and I decide to take advantage of it. I don my workout gear and running shoes, then head for the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
After patting my cheeks dry, I lean in closer to the mirror and
scrutinize my reflection. I trace the lines around my eyes with my index finger, then move my fingertip to the furrows between my brows. My last Botox injection is wearing off, likely helped by the stress of parenting. Not even dead botulism cells could withstand the tension my facial muscles have endured this past week.
I tuck my cell phone into the pocket of my leggings, as is my habit lately. I’m not worried about being jumped or abducted in this neighborhood, but I’ve reached the age when suffering a heart attack while running is not terribly rare. Yup, I’m old. (Of course, if I’m actually felled by a heart attack while running, I probably won’t be able to dial 911, but hopefully a passing stranger will take pity on me and make the call before stealing my beloved Samsung). I think for a second, then slide one of my credit cards in the pocket alongside my phone. (Might as well make the passing stranger’s day.)
The sky is still mostly dark with the merest hint of pink creeping up the horizon. I shiver in the predawn air and zip up my brother’s UCLA sweatshirt. It still bears a faint stain from the green tea latté, and when I gaze at it, I think of Matt Ryan.
On the curb, I stretch for a few minutes longer than usual, and tell myself I’m doing so because my limbs are tight. The truth is, I’m hoping Matt will come outside to nab his paper or throw out his trash or recycle his freaking Styrofoam or wash his truck—which would be ridiculous at this hour, but you know, it could happen.
After stretching myself to the point of turning into Plastic Woman, with no hint of movement behind Matt’s curtains, I finally give up and head down the street at a slow, easy pace. With every stride, my mind empties a little more and I manage to enter that ever-elusive meditative zone. I’m only aware of my heart beat, my breathing and the slap of my feet against the pavement. Ah, sweet blissful mental silence.
Within ten minutes, I have increased my speed and my body heat has risen. I take off the sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. When I reach the perimeter of Golden Gables, I turn down the main boulevard and jog toward the rising sun and the mighty Pacific. I’ve always loved jogging in central park, but I have to admit, running on this tree-lined street with a view of the ocean in sixty-degree weather—in November—doesn’t suck at all.
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