Rosa No-Name

by Roger Bruner

  She arranged four chairs so they faced one another. Thanks to my lesson about numbers at the restaurant, I knew “four.” But when I added one Alazne to four adults, I didn’t know what to call the new total.

  Dr. Martinez sat down beside me. Ignoring the other two chairs, Nikki and Chalina stood behind me. The doctor smiled gently and put one hand on mine as she spoke. “You have a very wonderful family, Rosa.”

  “We aren’t actually related, but they are the most family I’ve ever had.” I didn’t bother to say, the only family.

  “Ah!” She grinned. “Perhaps that explains blonde hair that doesn’t come from a bottle.” I knew I was supposed to laugh, but I couldn’t. “They love you a great deal, Rosa. They love Alazne, too, and they don’t want to see anything bad happen to either one of you.”

  “Dr. Martinez, forgive my bluntness, but does Alazne have spina bifida, the occulta kind? I know that isn’t serious. I have it myself, and Dr. Morales assures me it won’t cause any problems.”

  Her eyes opened wide at my mention of spina bifida. She twisted her mouth slightly as if rethinking what she should say.

  “No. Not occulta. Alazne has a more serious form of spina bifida. Medically speaking, she should have died from it before now. For whatever reason, she hasn’t, and we must work quickly to make sure she doesn’t.”

  I now faced the most serious problem of my life. More serious than finding out I was pregnant at sixteen or having to marry a man who disgusted me. So I reacted the way mothers throughout the ages have done.

  I broke into tears, nearly hysterical. Alazne might die any second. I’d never felt so helpless. So desperate. Now I understood how protective a mother feels about the baby she has spent nine months learning to love.

  Dr. Martinez squeezed my hand gently and Chalina and Nikki put their arms around my shoulders. One of them stroked my hair so lightly I was barely conscious of it. I heard Chalina whispering urgently. “Don’t lose heart. Be concerned, yes, but don’t let your concerns immobilize you.”

  Her words—no matter how loving, how caring—couldn’t sooth my sense of helplessness or dam up my tears.

  Once again she whispered in my ear. “You must calm down now. The doctor has more to say. Alazne is in danger of dying, yes, and we cannot pretend it might not happen. But there is hope.

  “The fact that she has lived this long—that she has survived this long—means there is hope. What we do not know is how much hope is realistic. You must be quiet on the outside so you can listen and quiet on the inside so you can comprehend what Dr. Martinez is trying to tell you.”

  Chalina’s words made their mark in my head and on my heart, and my tears slowed first to a trickle and then to an occasional sniffle.

  Dr. Martinez insisted on hospitalizing Alazne immediately. She was so concerned about Alazne’s condition that she drove ahead of us and led us directly to the emergency room entrance. We followed her inside in silence. No matter how scared I was, I felt slightly better when I saw the attention the nurses gave her. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her there all alone, though.

  But I had to. Like it or not, I needed to talk to Tomás.

  14

  Back at the apartment, we rehashed what the doctor had told us. Tomás listened without interrupting, his face emotionless. Unconcerned. He didn’t care what happened to Alazne.

  When we reached a stopping point, Tomás finally spoke. “So an operation is necessary? It is required?”

  “Yes.” I struggled to keep the deluge of tears from breaking forth again. Tears would anger Tomás, and I needed to gain at least a tiny portion of his sympathy. If he was even capable of sympathy.

  “And without this operation your daughter—our daughter—will die?”

  “Yes!” I almost spit out my response.

  “This operation will be expensive?”

  Chalina told him the dollar figure Dr. Martinez had given us. But it had only been an estimate. Tomás was silent for a moment. “My daughter.”

  I could almost picture him weighing Alazne’s life against his precious money on a set of balance scales.

  Nikki’s hands held me back. She might not have known what he was saying, but she must have realized I was desperate enough—angry enough—to claw Tomás’s face with my fingernails if he failed to cooperate.

  “Just listen to him,” Nikki whispered calmly in my ear in English. “Don’t do anything rash.” I intuitively understood her meaning. Although I settled back into my chair, I was not at peace.

  “Dr. Martinez said she will perform the operation for nothing if you cannot afford to pay.” She didn’t actually say so, but she obviously suspected that Tomás was a wealthy drug smuggler. “The hospital won’t charge for a poverty case, either.”

  “No! We do not live on anyone’s charity. I can pay. I won’t have people saying I didn’t provide for her healthcare.”

  For her healthcare? Tomás had never referred to his daughter by name—not even now that her life was in grave danger.

  So much depended on his cooperation that I struggled to keep my anger in check. I didn’t know whether charity would provide for Alazne if her biological father was simply unwilling to pay.

  Tomás cocked his head. “When?”

  “Tomorrow,” Chalina responded before I could. “Early. Dr. Martinez would have preferred doing it today. Although the threat to Alazne’s life grows more serious with each passing minute, we told her we had to talk with you first.”

  “Her problem?” Tomás wasn’t inclined to waste words. Not when talking about things that didn’t interest him. Even though his daughter’s life was at stake, he sounded more like a stone-hearted businessman than a human parent.

  “Alazne has a place on her back where the spinal cord did not develop normally. It is a type of spina bifida called meningocele. The operation will not cure her, but it will minimize the risk to her life and give her a chance to live the most normal life possible.”

  “The most normal? She—”

  “Don’t keep calling her she,” I nearly shouted in exasperation. “Her name is Alazne. Can’t you call your daughter by name one time?”

  My interruption appeared to shock Tomás almost as much as the strength of my venom. I seldom lost my temper, and he had never seen me in a rage. I had never dared to show him that side of me. Anger breeds violence, and the slightest provocation might ignite his violence in ways I couldn’t imagine. I would never forget what he did to the animals and the blue convertible.

  For Alazne’s sake and hers alone, I had to refrain from provoking Tomás. But I wouldn’t let him continue to ignore her. Not when we were talking about her life.

  “Alazne.” His voice was meek, and he pronounced the name carefully. As if he had never heard it before. “Alazne won’t be normal after the operation?”

  “She will probably have trouble walking. She may have other problems, too, but at least she will be alive and normal in many ways.” When he frowned, I tried to speak more confidently. “In most ways.”

  His meekness vanished. “Alive and yet not completely normal? You expect me to pay that much money for an operation that won’t make her whole again?”

  “The poor baby has never been whole, Tomás.” Chalina spoke with the patience of a healthcare professional Tomás respected. “This defect resulted from the lack of folic acid in Rosa’s diet when she was pregnant.”

  “Then it is her fault!” He glared at me with disgust. “Why didn’t you take folic acid when you were pregnant?”

  Although he had addressed this senseless accusation to me, Chalina answered. “She needed folic acid during the first months of pregnancy. But she didn’t know she was pregnant, and folic acid wouldn’t have been available in Santa María even if she had known.”

  “I could have brought her some in my visits to the village.”

  “Or you could have avoided taking advantage of a young girl who didn’t know better than to trust you.”

  No longer w
as Chalina speaking clinically. With fire in her eyes, she stared at Tomás so intently he turned away to avoid the heat of her anger.

  His face grew so red I feared he might attack Chalina with the same uncontrollable rage he had displayed on the highway. Instead, he stomped to the master bedroom and slammed the door so hard it resembled a gunshot.

  Nikki grabbed a cordless phone, followed him down the hallway, and settled quietly on the carpet. Her index finger hovered less than an inch above the keypad. Was she preparing to call the police if he grew violent?

  What was he going to do next? I was scared to think about it, and we still didn’t have an answer about Alazne’s operation. Not the one we needed, anyhow.

  Several hours later, Tomás came out of the bedroom. Although he appeared to be calm, I wondered whether he felt that way inside.

  Nikki followed close behind as he returned to the living room. She was still holding the phone, her right forefinger poised over the keypad.

  He cleared his throat. “Chalina, you are a good woman—and an honest one. I will pay for the operation.”

  When I saw that he had more to say, I refrained from cheering.

  “But Rosa and Alazne need help.” He seemed more comfortable referring to his daughter by name. “Will you live with us and do whatever is needed to help out? One bedroom is not in use, and I will pay whatever you ask.”

  “Rosa is my friend, Tomás. More like a daughter. I cannot take money for what I do out of love. But I will accept your invitation to live here and help. I will let you pay any incidental expenses I may incur.”

  I pictured Chalina cheering loudly on the inside about this new arrangement, for it would make my education easier to carry out than we had anticipated. But we would have to wait until Alazne was out of the hospital and on the road to recovery.

  If she survived, that is.

  ~*~

  Chalina, Nikki, and I left at 5:00 a.m. to reach the hospital an hour before the operation. Tomás had already gotten up and gone who knows where. He seldom got up that early.

  Alazne’s operation went better than Dr. Martinez had hoped, and I wondered if this god Dr. Morales had wanted to accompany me the previous week had been responsible. God was still just a word to me, though. A vague concept. But I desperately needed to believe that something in the world—perhaps somebody—was mightier than Tomás and his kind of evil.

  A god would have to be the opposite of Tomás—good, kind, loving. If I had known of such a person, I would have asked him to help my tiny baby recover from her life-threatening situation.

  I couldn’t ask a god for that, however. I didn’t know whether one existed. And why would he help, anyhow? He didn’t know Alazne or me.

  I was dying to ask Nikki and Chalina about him, but I felt foolish. Instead of admitting my ignorance, I would wait until I learned to read and look god up in a book. As important as he would be if he was real, I should be able to find many books about him.

  And how huge those books must be.

  Perhaps god wasn’t who I wanted him to be. How could a weak young woman like me locate him, and where would I begin looking?

  Surely he would have more important concerns than a young mother like me. I didn’t dare to hope that he was really as loving and caring as I wanted and needed him to be.

  After all, I had once believed Tomás was a loving, caring person. And look at the way he deceived me. He had never cared about my welfare. Providing for me now was not his choice.

  Would the kind of god I dreamed of be someone I could trust, or would he also deceive and take advantage of me, leaving me the worse for wear when he finished using me?

  Rather than chance believing in someone who might let me down again, I did my best to dismiss any thoughts of god and concentrate on realities I could see, hear, taste, touch, and smell.

  ~*~

  “Tomás trusts me implicitly,” Chalina said one morning while Nikki was in the shower. “He confides in me and doesn’t suspect how much I loathe him.”

  My eyes must have grown huge. Her revelation was so unexpected.

  “He has begun doing business with a second village. Whether to increase his sizeable fortune even more or to protect himself if Santa María ever terminates its business relationship with him, I cannot say.”

  No, Chalina! Don’t even say that. He could dispose of me whenever he wanted once he quit doing business with Santa María.

  “He’s smoked marijuana for many years,” she continued. “He’s recently begun experimenting with stronger drugs.”

  If he used illegal drugs at the apartment, he didn’t do it in front of me. But he always had a can of beer in his hand, one he emptied rapidly before grabbing another from the fridge.

  His absences grew more conspicuous—both in length and frequency. He rarely returned to the apartment at all.

  Not that we minded. We enjoyed being by ourselves. Nikki, Chalina, Alazne, and I were the only friends and family any of us needed. We talked freely about every imaginable subject. Especially how to care properly for a baby. But Chalina was careful not to tell Nikki anything about Tomás’s business.

  I learned that Chalina had never married. Since she didn’t mention children, I assumed she didn’t have any.

  How strange to associate children with husbands, wives, and marriage once more and to place marriage first in the order of occurrence—the way it was in Santa María. I wondered if that might still be the norm in America—in spite of the many exceptions.

  Nothing would make Tomás more than my legal husband. Only the biological act of reproduction had made him a father. His failure to continue referring to Alazne by name didn’t surprise me.

  But I had quit caring.

  15

  One day after making sure Tomás was gone, Chalina and Nikki got ready to go shopping.

  “You can’t come this time,” Chalina said. “Alazne isn’t strong enough for a prolonged outing, and the risk of infection is greater among crowds of people who are generous in spreading germs wherever they go.”

  Although disappointed at this restriction, I couldn’t argue. I would do whatever was necessary to ensure and hasten Alazne’s recovery.

  They promised to bring home some latte from Starbucks as what Nikki called a “consolation prize.” I was becoming more American than I wanted to admit.

  And far more than Tomás suspected.

  Chalina wrapped her arms around me. “I tried, Rosa. I asked Tomás to let me teach you to read. I begged him. You don’t want to know what he said. Although he normally shows me a great deal of respect, I’m surprised his shouting didn’t wake you.”

  It had.

  “Don’t be discouraged. You will learn to read.” With that, she closed the door behind her and headed out on her shopping expedition with Nikki.

  How did she know what was bothering me? Did I have “I want to learn to read” written on my face?

  Weeks had passed since Nikki and Chalina promised to begin my education. Sometimes I turned on the television and pretended to read the closed captioning. My inability to comprehend it didn’t frustrate me as much as my awareness that each group of letters on the screen represented a word I already knew.

  Or so I had thought at first. I had never realized how extensive the Spanish vocabulary was, however. The more attention I paid to the closed captioning in Spanish on television, the more different groups of letters I noticed. The Latinos in San Diego must use far more words than the villagers of Santa Maria.

  I sighed at each reminder of the things I was so ignorant of. How many of them did I encounter in a single day? I would’ve needed many numbers past eighteen to count them all.

  My world had been so small. So limited.

  Would Nikki and Chalina ever be able to teach me everything I needed to know? Especially in a world that contained too much knowledge for one person to learn everything.

  I shook my head in frustration. My family was out shopping and having fun and I was stuck at home i
mpatient to begin my education.

  I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to appear ungrateful for Chalina and Nikki’s offers of help or distrustful of their promises. But I couldn’t help fretting in my anxiety to begin.

  Perhaps adulthood in Santa María began at sixteen, but I had entered it abruptly and woefully ill-prepared.

  I didn’t need an education to love Alazne more than I loved myself. She was my reason for living—the only meaning my life had ever had. Yet no matter how important she was, something deep inside told me my existence should count for something more.

  No matter how unbelievable the idea was, that little voice insisted that life was more than motherhood. At this rate, however, how would I ever learn what?

  While waiting for Chalina and Nikki to return, I washed Alazne off the way the nurses had shown me in the hospital. I avoided touching the wound from her operation as if her little life depended on it. Then I patted her dry and put her in a nightgown that smelled as fresh and clean as baby powder and held her against me.

  Alazne was already drowsy, and I wanted her to go back to sleep. Dr. Martinez had said that sleep and love were the two best medicines for Alazne’s recovery.

  I felt like singing to her, but no one had ever sung to me and I had no notion what to sing. So, without thinking about anything in particular, I sang whatever words popped into my head and made up a quiet little tune as I went along.

  When Chalina and Nikki opened the front door upon returning from their shopping trip, I realized I had been singing about my mother. And how I wished I knew who she was.

  I would make sure Alazne knew who her mother was. Long after I was gone, she would remember that her mother hadn’t deserted her or done something so dreadful that nobody was willing to talk about it. She would always remember how much I loved her.

  ~*~

  How could I have doubted Chalina and Nikki? Embarrassed about the way I had felt just moments before, I was thankful they didn’t know the reason for the crimson face I saw looking back at me from the mirror above my dresser.