by Sally Quinn
Allison tried to speak but no words came out of her mouth.
“You can remove the tube,” said Des in a choked voice.
The doctor gently removed the tube from Kay Kay’s mouth.
They had told them it would take hours for her to die. There was a tiny gasping sound from her mouth. Des nodded to everyone and slowly they left the room. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed together staring down at this precious, plump little body, this beautiful round face, the rosy cheeks, the perfect little nose, the little rosebud mouth.
“She is so beautiful, isn’t she, Des?”
“She is.” He was so broken up he could barely get a word out.
“She has your toes, look at her toes. And I think she has your nose, too.”
“Her mouth is yours,” he said. “She’s beautiful and delicate like you. She would have been so spectacular when she grew up…” he couldn’t finish.
“I’m going to give her a bath and get her dressed,” said Allison, almost matter of fact.
They had set up a bathinette, and Allison gently held her baby and put her in the warm soapy water and bathed her. Her skin felt so good and Allison found herself massaging Kay Kay, touching every part of her body. She picked her up after she had bathed her and wrapped her in one of the new towels in her layette, a white terry-cloth towel with a little hood and pink binding. She diapered her carefully, putting on Vaseline, then baby powder, and she rubbed her body with soothing lotion. Then she dressed her in a soft white velour dress with tiny red and green sprigs of holly embroidered in the smocking on the front and white leggings. All the while she was humming softly to the tune of “You Are My Sunshine.” When she had finished she turned to Des.
“Now I need some time alone with her if that’s okay with you.”
Des hugged her and left the room. He looked relieved. It was obviously too much for him.
When she was by herself with Kay Kay she sat down in the rocker. She wrapped her in a soft blanket and sat staring at her, rocking back and forth for a while, just looking at her baby. Then she unbuttoned the front of her shirtwaist dress and unhooked her bra. Her breasts were engorged and aching as though they would burst. She felt a tingling sensation, then pressure, then a surge of milk flowing as the white liquid began to dribble from her breasts. She put Kay Kay’s mouth to her left breast and fixed her lips to her nipple. Kay Kay’s body had begun to turn a bit colder and her breathing was coming in little gasps but as her lips touched her mother’s nipple she began to suck, making tiny little sucking motions with her mouth, little sucking noises. It didn’t hurt at all the way she had expected and the relief was tremendous. It was the most exhilarating, sensual, overwhelming sensation she had ever had, including an orgasm. Kay Kay would suck for a moment, then stop and take little labored breaths, then suck again. Allison turned her around when she stopped the next time and put her on her other breast and felt the milk surge forward again.
Tears welled up in her eyes as her milk was welling up in her breasts, but still she didn’t cry, though she didn’t know whether or not she would be able to bear the pain she was feeling at this moment. When Kay Kay seemed to have finished sucking Allison wiped her mouth, then hooked up her bra and buttoned up her dress.
She couldn’t get enough of her daughter and she knew that she would have to call Des back in shortly. The breathing was becoming more labored. Each breath was so excruciating to her that she began to breathe in little gasps like Kay Kay. She was overcome with a desire to devour Kay Kay, somehow taking her all in, getting her back inside her womb, making her part of her body again so they couldn’t take her away. She reached down and took her hand, held it up to her mouth and began to lick her fingers. She licked her hand, then her arm. Then she held her face up to her and licked her cheeks and her neck and the downy fuzz at the top of her head. She pulled up her dress and licked her tummy, then pulled down her leggings and licked her legs and her toes. She dressed her again, licked her face one more time, held her as closely as she could, got up, and went to the door to get Des.
Kay Kay died an hour later. Allison handed her over to the doctor. She handed her life, her heart and soul over to the doctor.
Somebody handed her some Polaroids of Kay Kay in her Christmas dress, a lock of her hair, her hospital I.D. bracelet, the crib card, her blood pressure cuff. Des and the doctor discussed cremation arrangements. Sister Madeleine said the last rites. That seemed to satisfy Des’s need for a funeral. She didn’t really care. She didn’t really know what was happening. She was aware that they were saying goodbye and thanking people. People were coming up to her and hugging her. She remembered walking out of the hospital with Des and driving home. It was beginning to get dark. It was snowing. He asked her if she wanted something to eat. She had forgotten about food. The house was filled with food people had brought over. There were hams and turkeys with dressing and all the trimmings. Somebody had put up a small Christmas tree.
She felt exhausted. She was only vaguely aware of Des’s presence. He kept trying to hug her, to put his arm around her, to comfort her, but she kept pushing him away. She didn’t want to look at him. She was suddenly too tired to even think why. She decided to go upstairs and take a hot shower. Slowly she got undressed and into the shower. She stood under the water for a very long time letting it pour over her, washing her large swollen breasts, her misshapen belly.
Then it started, a horrible wrenching pain deep in her gut that welled up inside her chest and up and up until she let out a long low cry of anguish and then the tears came with the wails and then the sobs and she cried out Kay Kay’s name and she hugged her body and she begged whatever unknown power had made this happen to not let this be true and she cried so hard that she doubled over and finally ended up on her knees in the shower with the hot water pummeling down on her head and then she was slumped on the floor of the shower, crying so hard that she was too weak to move. She didn’t know how long she was in there until Des found her and cut off the water and pulled her out and wrapped her in a huge towel, but she couldn’t stop crying and shrieking with pain and she wrenched herself away from him and fell to the floor of the bathroom where she lay heaving with sobs. Des, distraught, got down on the floor with her and tried to comfort her but she kept pushing him away.
She lay there and cried for what seemed like hours. Des never moved, but she could hear him crying, too. After a long time she was silent. Finally he got up and gave her a sedative and a glass of water. Exhaustedly she took it. He lifted her up and led her to the bed where he helped her into a flannel nightgown and covered her with a duvet. He tried to take her hand. She pulled it away.
“Why won’t you let me help you, Sonny?” he pleaded. “I love you. I want to help you. I need you. We need each other.” He lay down on top of the duvet and put his body next to hers, trying to hold her, trying to get close.
“Because it is your God who took my baby away from me. You don’t need me. You have Him. You can go pray to Him. I have nobody now.”
“Jesus, Sonny don’t do this to me, please. I loved Kay Kay. I love you. I know how you’re hurting but so am I. Please, let’s try to help each other. We won’t get through this otherwise. Please, baby?” His voice cracked again.
She felt strangely detached from him, from everything. The sedative was beginning to take effect and she was getting drowsy. He put his head on top of her stomach. She didn’t push it away.
“Goodnight, Des,” she said as she drifted off to sleep. “Merry Christmas.”
15
It was leap year, the last day of February, the day the girls are supposed to ask the boys.
She had just returned from La Samanna. She hadn’t wanted to go at Christmas. In fact, she hadn’t wanted to go at all this year. It would only remind her of Michael—but the kids had talked her into it. Outland and Annie Laurie. So they had gone, George Washington’s birthday week. She had been both glad and sad. It was wonderful to be with her children again like that alone, j
ust enjoying them. It was the first time, really, that they had been like a family since the year before. They always seemed to be off somewhere.
Willie loved it, too. He adored Outland and followed him around like a puppy dog, imitating everything he did. Annie Laurie was at her best with Willie. Her chip-on-the-shoulder attitude softened around her little brother. Monica was very much a part of the family now, and at night, after dinner and after Willie was in bed, the two older ones would go down to the little town of Marigot and take Monica along, leaving Sadie to baby-sit.
The nights had been the hardest. Just watching the moon shimmering on the water, listening to the waves against the sand, smelling the tropical flowers, feeling the soft night air reminded her of Michael. Memories were everywhere. She felt pulled, drawn toward the end of the beach where they had met at night, yet with nobody to watch Willie she couldn’t go. Somehow she kept thinking that Michael would guess she was at La Samanna, that he would fly down and be sitting there on the rocks waiting for her if only she could get away to meet him. But she knew that that would never happen. It was the kind of corny romantic scenario you would find in a novel, not in real life.
Still, just being there made her feel closer to him. Closer than she had in Washington these past two months when she wasn’t able to see him or talk to him.
These past two months had been agony. She had felt such euphoria after they had made love, after he told her he loved her. She had felt complete in a way that she never had before. She had felt hope that the two of them might actually be able to have a life together. When she got his letter she had been devastated. She couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t understand him. How could he not want to see her when he even admitted that he had never loved anyone as much as he loved her? She knew that. She believed it with all her heart. What kind of person, then, would not want to see her? He wasn’t in love with Giselle anymore. She probably wasn’t in love with him. Their children were out of the house. There was no reason for them to stay together. He knew, he had to know, how much she loved him. Divorce was commonplace. What was wrong with him?
She fluctuated between total despair and a kind of resolute optimism. The despair was not only about losing Michael. At least for now. It was about losing Rosey, losing Des. Was she destined to lose every man she loved? It would seem so. When she was in these moods only the thought of Willie kept her going. Then she would pull herself together and determine to keep on.
She would be angry at herself for empowering Michael to cause her such pain, for allowing him to destroy her peace of mind. If he wanted to be an asshole that was his problem. She was not going to buy into it. He loved her. That she knew. Given that fact, she had confidence that she could—would—ultimately, get him back. Let him torment himself a little while longer over this greatly exaggerated cultural gap. Then, when he was missing her terribly, she would swoop down on him and destroy his resolve. She had done it before, she would do it again.
That was her mood when she returned from La Samanna.
* * *
She would be seeing him on that very day, leap-year day. The National Commission on AIDS was having a conference at the Pan American Health Organization Building. Freddy Osgood had appointed her a commissioner, one of two seats he had at his disposal. It was something she had really wanted, partly because she thought it was one of the most important issues, partly because she needed something to do, and partly because it gave her opportunities to be directly involved with Michael.
Michael’s sense of mission had infused her with a sense of responsibility and caring which she had only given lip service to as First Lady. She found now, being with him, that she was emotionally involved with the issue. This had never happened to her before, this sense of social commitment, and she liked the way it made her feel. Particularly since she was in a position to make something happen. More than anything she had ever done except raising her children it made her feel worthwhile. As First Lady she had been so concerned with finding a project to make Rosey look good that the personal involvement never was there. They had made her give up Planned Parenthood, which she really cared about, because they said it was politically dangerous. Then, her affair with Des and the subsequent birth of Willie consumed her. There had been no time for others.
The truth was that she needed Blanche. Working with Blanche, advising her, helping her be First Lady gave her something to do, distracted her from her thoughts. She couldn’t exactly go out and get a job. In fact it was hard for her even to go out. Without Blanche she would go crazy with boredom and depression.
She had thrown herself into the AIDS movement with a vengeance, learning as much as she could, studying, meeting people, reading, going to meetings, lectures, conferences, symposiums. She had gotten Blanche heavily involved and it had improved her public image considerably. Her country music concerts had been huge hits and had raised a lot of money for AIDS research. Blanche had been very popular as a singer and once she had gotten back into it and stopped trying to be something she wasn’t, people began to respond to her and respect her.
Sadie had asked Freddy to appoint her to the AIDS commission and she had spent so much time down at their offices on K Street that they had given her one of the storage rooms and let her set up her own office there.
She made speeches, met with CEOs of large companies to solicit funds, lobbied Congress, anything that would help. She had been extremely effective and in less than a year had become widely respected in the field. Since Michael had written her at Christmas saying he didn’t want to see her again she had worked even harder.
It was she who had called the conference for the end of February. She wanted to discuss vaccines and drugs that were in use against the AIDS virus. It had been brought to her attention by a source at the FDA that several drug companies had been misrepresenting the side effects of some of their products. She had arranged for the most distinguished group of doctors and scientists in the world to be there, flying them in from Paris, Geneva, Africa, San Francisco, New York. She also arranged for Michael to give a presentation.
The program was designed to make Michael look good. And she would make sure he knew she had planned it that way. Blanche would be there. The presence of the First Lady and former First Lady and dozens of world-famous doctors and scientists would guarantee great coverage. Flushed with success, all thanks to her, he wouldn’t be able to resist seeing her again, if only for lunch. That’s when she would clinch it. He would understand once and for all that she really loved him and cared about him and he wouldn’t run away again. That was the plan.
* * *
It was a beautiful bright winter day, blustery and freezing cold.
Sadie woke at dawn, having rehearsed all night how she would behave when she saw Michael. Casually, she decided. Assuming she wasn’t fainting or throwing up from nerves. She felt pretty confident about her role. She planned to ask Michael a couple of “spontaneous” questions after his presentation that were designed to allow him to show off. She had decided to dress down. A simple pale blue-green Irish tweed suit. In fact, there was nothing she hadn’t planned, down to having her hair trimmed a week earlier and her nails done the day before. She made sure her underwear didn’t have any rips or tears in case she got in an accident and he had to take her clothes off to examine her bleeding body.
The director of the commission came to her house that morning to go over the agenda and they drove together to the Pan American Health Organization Building around the corner from the State Department. She was thankful that she didn’t have to walk in alone with only her Secret Service agents. She always felt so on display.
Michael wasn’t there yet. She could relax, meet a few of the commissioners, get her bearings, and be prepared to greet the First Lady, who was coming with her White House entourage.
The place was crawling with reporters, photographers, and television cameras. When Blanche and her crew arrived and made their way to Sadie there was quite a commotion. She had been rig
ht about press interest.
The meeting began promptly at nine to a packed house. Michael had still not arrived when it started and she found herself glancing nervously toward the back of the room, unable to concentrate on the first panelists. Michael’s presentation was not until after the eleven o’clock coffee break, so there was no need to panic. When he finally did walk in she happened to be staring at the door. Their eyes met for just an instant until, embarrassed and blushing, she quickly looked away and pretended to be engrossed in what the speaker was saying. She was too distracted to ask any questions during the first two sessions. The other commissioners all wanted their place in the sun, the huge press turnout was irresistible, and it was no problem.
By the coffee break Sadie was practically hyperventilating. She and Blanche were ushered off to the head of the PAHO’s private bathroom to freshen up and then escorted down the winding marble stairs to where the coffee was being served in the glass-enclosed foyer.
She got a cup of coffee and casually made her way through the crowd, stopping to chat briefly with a few of the panelists from that morning. Finally she came to where Michael was standing with Frank Biondi, the head of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases. Biondi was short, fat, and bald and considered himself quite a ladykiller for reasons that were not altogether clear to Sadie. He also happened to be a good doctor.
Michael had his back to her but she knew he could feel her presence behind him. She was so close to him she saw him stiffen. She felt an urge to kiss him on the back of the neck. Pulling herself up to her full height and wiping her perspiring palms on a tissue in her pocket she came around to face Michael and Dr. Biondi.
“Dr. Biondi,” she said in her most First Lady voice, completely ignoring Michael. “You were absolutely marvelous this morning. What a brilliant presentation. But then we all know you are brilliant, which is why you were chosen to lead off the session.”
