Beauty from Ashes

by Alana Terry

  Sandy sent me an article a few weeks ago about grief. It’s funny because until I read it, I didn’t think I had anything to mourn over. I mean, my daughter was sick, but at least she was alive. Well, the article was written by a special-needs mom. Her baby didn’t have a traumatic birth like Natalie. I forget now what it was, but I think it was one of those chromosomal things. Not Down Syndrome, but one of the less common types that are kind of similar. And in the article, she was talking about how she had to grieve the loss of the healthy daughter she and her husband hoped to have.

  So I guess that means I’m grieving too, and I know people say you’re not supposed to make any big decisions while you’re in that sort of mental state. You know, big decisions like getting married.

  Live and learn, I guess.

  I can’t say that I regret my choice. I’m just waiting to see how it all pans out. If Natalie dies, I really can’t picture staying with Jake after something that traumatizing. Which means I probably married him because of her, which probably wasn’t the brightest idea.

  But what if she doesn’t die? And what if she’s not a vegetable her whole life? What if she really grows into that smiling girl I saw sitting on Jesus’ lap? Chocolate skin and almond eyes.

  It could happen, right?

  “Miss Franklin?”

  I look up, and Barb’s there smiling at me. I stand automatically before I know what she wants.

  “You left the suction machine in the exam room,” she tells me. I wonder why she didn’t just bring it out, but I pick up Natalie in her car seat and follow Barb down the hall back to the bumblebee room.

  Dr. Bell’s in there, and I’m afraid she’s going to lecture me for not having the machine with me. I’ve been doing a good job. I mean, I haven’t forgotten it anywhere until now except for that time when we went on a walk and I left it at home, but we were never more than three or four minutes away from the trailer. I feel like I should apologize or something when Dr. Bell asks me, “How long have her secretions been that color?”

  I pull back the cloth carrying case so I can see the collection canister. My face immediately wrinkles up. I try to remember when I last cleaned out the receptacle. Patricia does it, or at least I assume she does, because it’s empty every morning when I wake up. Of course, if I tell that to the doctor she’s going to think I’m the most negligent mom in central Washington, so I say, “Not that long. Maybe a day or two.”

  I study the can, trying to decide what label I would give it. I’ve always admired the way crayon companies come up with so many different synonyms for the same shade, and I wonder what Crayola would call this. Maybe swamp green or marshy muck.

  Dr. Bell is frowning. “What was her temperature when she came in?” she asks Barb.

  “Around normal, but I’d have to get her chart to be sure.”

  “99.1,” I tell them both, thankful for the chance to prove my maternal attentiveness. I glance from one worried face to the other. “Is that bad? Is something wrong?”

  A nurse in Looney Tunes scrubs leads a mother and two little kids down the hall. Barb shuts the door to give the three of us more privacy.

  Not a good sign.

  “Is that too high?” I ask. I seem to remember one of the mommy magazines explaining that it’s not technically a fever until your temperature’s over 101. Or was it 102?

  “You were planning to come back in two weeks, right?” Dr. Bell asks. I nod, even though I haven’t scheduled anything at the front desk yet.

  She looks at Barb. “Let’s see if we can get her in this Monday.” She glances at the marshy muck secretions in my daughter’s canister and says, “Actually, we don’t want to wait the whole weekend.” She nods to Barb, who is poised and ready to rush out of the room and schedule an appointment for my 99.1-degree daughter.

  Dr. Bell’s face is grim.

  “Let’s get them back here first thing Friday morning.”

  CHAPTER 28

  When Jake finally pulls up, I can’t tell from where I am if he’s mad or not that he had to wait at work. I’ve got the bulky car seat in one hand and the even bulkier suction machine in the other, and in the back of my mind I hear Sandy’s husband lamenting about how chivalry is dead.

  I slip into the backseat and make sure the car seat clicks in place. The suction machine’s on my lap, but now that I’ve examined its contents, I’m a little worried about some of that marshy muck spilling onto me if Jake hits a bump or takes a corner too fast.

  Patricia’s sitting primly in the passenger seat like she’s the stinking Queen of England, and all I can do is fixate on the worry I heard in Dr. Bell’s voice when she told Barb to bump up our next appointment.

  They’re anxious about infection. I guess that’s what the green color can mean, but Natalie doesn’t have a runny nose or a cough or anything like that. And she was bundled up even though the heater in the clinic was on, so that might explain why her temperature was a tad high.

  I know I’m going to feel like this — like I just downed a four-shot espresso with about a cup of extra sugar — until I get back to Dr. Bell’s on Friday.

  “How’d the appointment go?” Jake asks, and I can tell by his voice he’s not ticked off about waiting. Good. I couldn’t add one more stress to my day.

  “Wants us to come back Friday morning. Her secretions are kind of green, so she just wants to make sure it’s cleared up by then.” I know Jake’s an even broodier worrywart than I am, so I try to sound casual, like I’m talking about a girlfriend who wants to stop over for a cup of coffee. It helps having some reason to pretend I’m not about to die of panic.

  Patricia twists around in her seat like a yoga guru. She’s got that lecturing professor look on her face. “Green could mean infection.”

  I don’t bother to tell her she might have shared that useful information as soon as she noticed the change in the color of Natalie’s secretions. It would only turn into an argument about how she handles all of Natalie’s care and I’m the ungrateful mom who’s too lazy to parent my own kid. Like she doesn’t realize I’d be more than willing to rinse out the saliva canister each day if she didn’t always beat me to it.

  I try to change the subject. “The good news is we can start feeding her every three hours during the day and cut out that feeding in the middle of the night.” Nobody responds. I’m glad Patricia isn’t droning on about how much sleep she missed when she was nursing the twins.

  I want to ask Jake about his shift, but I feel so stupid here in the back seat. I’ve only driven a car a handful of times since the doctor put me on bed rest. I don’t even know how many months it’s been. I already told you how I can’t keep it in my head that we’re already in December. Christmas is in what — about a week? Heck if I know. The mommy mags make it out like baby’s first Christmas is just as exciting as the first word or the first step or all those other firsts that Natalie may never achieve in her lifetime. As for me, I just want to get past Christmas and on to New Year’s. My resolution? Get Patricia out of our house.

  I know she’s pitching in with the baby and all, but seriously. She’s been here two stinking months. Time to pay rent if she’s going to stay. My vote would be to keep on living dirt-poor but at least have the trailer to ourselves again.

  I haven’t thought of a Christmas gift for Jake. I haven’t thought of a Christmas gift for anyone. I wish I could look back to Natalie’s delivery day and find someone besides myself to blame. A million-dollar settlement sounds pretty good right about now.

  CHAPTER 29

  It’s evening, and we’re all sitting around the TV watching one of Patricia’s cooking competition shows. I hate to admit it, but I find the cutthroat challenges mildly entertaining. The host just made one of the contestants trade in all her spices for a five-pound chunk of sea salt and a cheese grater.

  The funny thing is I bet her dish will still have more flavor than Patricia’s.

  A commercial comes on, reminding us that it’s time to buy diamond jewelry f
or the ones we love. I wonder if Jake and I will ever get around to finding each other rings. It’s not like we sat down to actually plan our wedding. He asked me on a Monday morning, and we arrived at the courthouse with our paperwork that Thursday.

  Just the kind of romance every girl dreams about, right?

  I still don’t know why he did it. Asked me to marry him, I mean. We’d had this major fight the night before. A big one. He yelled, so you know it had to be huge.

  It was a week after the G-tube surgery. He’d been in Seattle for nearly a month, and Roberto gave him an ultimatum. Either come home and get back to work or find another job.

  For a little while, we talked about leaving the trailer and finding a place in Seattle. Jake was looking for work out there, not going from business to business or anything, but he was checking online to see if anything popped up.

  I was all for the move. There wasn’t anything tying me down to Orchard Grove. I hated the trailer park. I’d fallen out of touch with all my co-workers from the assisted living home. I still got together sometimes with Jake’s friends from the store, but that was about the extent of our social lives. I hadn’t even met Dr. Bell yet.

  But Jake’s a creature of habit, and even though Roberto treats him like a soiled diaper, Jake’s comfortable there. Knows the people, knows the job. Sometimes I wonder if that boy has an adventurous bone in his entire body.

  Anyway, he needed to get back to work. Roberto had been bugging him for a couple weeks but said he’d wait until after the surgery. Now there were no other excuses. Of course, Jake didn’t tell me all this while it was happening. He waited until his mind was already made up.

  “I think I need to head back home soon,” he said. We were out walking because I needed fresh air. I tried to force myself outside two or three times a week, take a little walk to unwind. Jake didn’t always come, but he wanted to this time. It was pouring rain, typical Seattle weather, so we were walking all the levels of one of the parking garages. Real romantic setting, as I’m sure you can imagine.

  I thought Jake was just making small talk. He’d mentioned going back to Orchard Grove before, but I never thought much about it. Jake isn’t the proactive type if you haven’t figured that out yet. Doesn’t find the gumption to do much if it takes him out of his little comfort bubble.

  And at that point, at least as far as I knew, his comfort bubble was with me and Natalie in Seattle. Not that I was going to get on my knees and beg him to stay or anything. But I didn’t think he was all that serious until he told me, “Roberto put me on the schedule for Tuesday.”

  I had no idea if Tuesday was in one day or six, but he was obviously talking about a definite date sometime in the coming week.

  “Really?” I tried not to sound upset. I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t handle being here with Natalie on my own. In fact, I figured it might be nice to hoard that thirty-four-dollar-a-day Medicaid meal voucher all to myself. “How are you going to get back there?”

  “Marcos is in town visiting his sister. He’s driving back tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” The word fell flat on my lips. Would he come back? What if Natalie never made it to Orchard Grove? What if Jake never saw her again?

  “Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?” He let out this little laugh, like he thought it was a stupid idea too, but Roberto said he had to so what choice did he have? Jake’s such a yes boy. I’m sure Patricia made sure of that when he was still in diapers.

  “There’s one more thing,” he said quietly. Like he was scared of me. I hate it when he does that. Makes me feel like I’m some ogre he’s got to tiptoe around.

  “What?” I knew it wouldn’t be good news from the tone of his voice.

  “Charlene’s going to be driving with us, too.”

  CHAPTER 30

  I’m proud to say that I didn’t freak out immediately. Heaven knows I could have. I mean, what kind of man ditches you and your dying infant to spend four hours in the car next to the woman he cheated on you with?

  Charlene? Seriously? Out of all the women Jake knows, she’s not even that high up there on the hot scale. I mean, she’s got the hourglass thing going on, but she’s at least twenty pounds overweight, and she’s got this sleazy aura about her. Like you could catch an STD or a canker sore by just looking at her.

  I held my tongue at first. I mean, it wasn’t Jake’s fault he couldn’t afford anything more than a lemon and had to rely on other people to drive him to and from the city. But still, he’d done so much to convince me earlier that he and Charlene were done with. That he’d been so rude to her there was no way she’d have anything to do with him again. And now they were about to spend four hours together driving over the scenic North Cascades in the fall when everything’s gorgeous and vibrant?

  Man, I hate that woman.

  You can call me a hypocrite if you want. I probably wouldn’t argue with you. But seriously, how would you feel if it was your boyfriend who’d been with Charlene and now was planning to catch a ride with her, leaving you and your sick baby behind in Seattle with absolutely no one?

  Well, we didn’t say much for the rest of the walk. It was a stupid idea anyway, trekking up and down that parking garage. If the point was to get fresh air, I should have picked a location that didn’t stink of car exhaust. I don’t know if you’ve ever paid much attention to hospital parking garages, but the cars get more and more flashy the closer you get to ground level, since that’s where all the doctors park. I remember looking at those red Porches and Audis and imagining what it would be like to have a buttload of money like that.

  When Jake and I got back to the hospital, I told him I was going to see Natalie.

  “I’ll come too,” he said, which was weird because he usually headed back to the Ronald McDonald house early to play his stupid candy game on his phone. I wasn’t going to argue, though. I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him for bailing out on us. I didn’t want him to think I was scared senseless to imagine being left in Seattle alone.

  When did I grow to be such a big baby?

  “You’re pretty quiet,” he said when we got into the elevator.

  I shrugged. The more he talked, the madder I got.

  “Are you upset about Charlene?” Man, how dense could he be?

  “What do you think?” I snapped.

  I don’t think he was prepared for me to jump on him like that. He got this look like Bambi’s mom before the hunter blows her brains out. He reached out and tried to grab my hand. Not the smartest move he’s ever made. “I already told you, there’s nothing between us.”

  “Yeah, I got that part pretty clear by now. But thanks for the mental image.”

  I didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see his pathetic expression, his futile attempts to calm me down at a time like this.

  “You know what I meant.”

  I got out of the elevator and kept walking. I wasn’t about to listen to him whine.

  “Come on.” He hurried to catch up. “I need that job to make rent this month.”

  I laughed in his face. As if he didn’t know how much I hated that trailer park. I’d be happy if we got evicted. I’d be happy if the whole stinking lot burned to the ground.

  “Please, it’s not like anything’s going to happen ...”

  He still thought this whole thing was about Charlene. I didn’t want to hear his arguments. I needed to go see my daughter. I walked ahead, but he grabbed my hand.

  Hard.

  “Come here and talk to me.” He’d never spoken to me like that. Forceful. Almost threatening.

  I snapped my head around to face him. At least he’d lost the doe-eyes. Now he looked mad. Now he looked ready for a fight. Too bad I wasn’t in the mood.

  “I’m going to the NICU.” I tried to pull my hand loose, but he didn’t let go. It was getting late, and the hospital wasn’t very crowded or I’m sure he would have never dared.

  “Let go of me.” I pried my hand free and walked away, but he yanke
d me by the back of my shirt. And that’s when I flung around and hit him. Not that hard. Not in the face or anything, just in the shoulder. Enough to stun him so he’d let me go.

  He swore at me. I’d never heard those words come out of his mouth before, not before and not since. But at least I was free.

  I stomped ahead confidently, certain he wouldn’t dare follow me. I kept my hands in fists in case he was watching me storm off, but I couldn’t keep this ridiculous smile off my face.

  Who would have thought that Jake had a pair of balls after all?

  CHAPTER 31

  I’ve already told you how much I despise being ignored. I would much rather be hated than tossed aside and abandoned. That’s why I felt a little thrill of victory when I finally managed to make Jake angry. I was acting like a witch. I’ll be the first to admit it. But for weeks, I’d been trying to get some reaction out of that boy. Like when you’re a kid and you keep poking at the jellyfish in the aquarium because you just want to see it do something.

  I’m sure if I had a psychologist or therapist they’d tell me how messed up that is. Tell me it’s immature try to make someone mad at you because you’re attention-starved and insanely hormonal.

  They can take all their book learning and shove it down their throats. What do they know about me, anyway?

  I got to the NICU that night, and there wasn’t much to do. Natalie was asleep. I usually held her at least once a day. It’s this skin-to-skin thing where you take off your shirt and wear a hospital gown and you put the baby right up against you in nothing but a diaper. Yeah, I was weirded out by the sound of it at first too, but I guess they’ve got all kinds of science to prove how effective it is at enhancing your kid’s health. Who knows? Maybe that’s why Natalie survived her NICU stay in the first place. I don’t know.