Dancing Naked

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  She lay back on her pillow, but was acutely aware of how light her room still was. Glancing at the window, she started when she saw that the moon was now directly in her line of vision. Almost full, it hung in the night sky. She wondered if Grace was seeing it too.

  Kia climbed out of bed and pulled on her housecoat. She left her room and headed down the hall, but in the opposite direction of the nursery. When she got to the bank of elevators she pushed the button on the wall.

  Reaching the sixth floor, she quietly slipped past the nurses’ station and began to peek into each room. It didn’t take long to find Grace. She was lying in bed, her eyes were closed, and a nurse was standing beside her, taking her pulse. The nurse looked up, startled at seeing Kia in the doorway.

  “Are you lost, dear?” she asked quietly.

  “Kia!” Grace said, her lids blinking open before Kia could answer the nurse. Kia caught a glimpse of Grace’s glassy eyes before a horrible coughing and hacking overwhelmed the frail body. Her eyes shut again as she struggled to breathe. Kia was shocked to see how much sicker she’d become in just a few days.

  The nurse waited patiently for Grace to recover before she spoke to Kia again. “Where are you supposed to be?” she asked.

  “The maternity ward, but I heard Grace was here and I wanted to see her.”

  “It’s getting awfully late,” the nurse said, glancing at her watch.

  “I’ll only stay five minutes,” Kia promised.

  “I’ll kick her out if she stays a second longer,” Grace promised the nurse, while smiling at Kia.

  “Okay. Five minutes. That’s it.”

  Kia pulled a chair up to Grace’s bed as soon as the nurse left.

  “Oh, Grace. Justin told me you were here.”

  “I’m glad you came up, Kia. I wanted to see you.”

  Kia reached out and picked up the old woman’s hand. “Are you in pain, Grace?”

  She shook her head. “No, not at all. Whatever medication I’m on is working beautifully.”

  Kia realized then that it was the medication that was making Grace’s old eyes shine so unnaturally.

  “I wanted you to know how special you are to me, Kia,” Grace said, her voice soft.

  “You’re special to me too, Grace.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve secretly thought of you as the grandchild I never had,” she said. “And your baby is like my great-grandchild.”

  Kia squeezed Grace’s hand, but her shoulders slumped. “Another child taken away from you.”

  “No, Kia. This one will be out there, living, breathing. It’s wonderful to know that.”

  Kia nodded. “I’m going to bring her up to see you.”

  Grace nodded, her eyelids beginning to droop. “That would be wonderful, Kia. I do want to see her.” Then her eyes closed completely and Kia felt her hand go limp. She leaned over and kissed the sleeping woman’s forehead, then quietly left the room.

  Weeks later, when Kia would look back on the morning of August fifteenth, only a blur of images would come to mind, like the faces of the people who came and went: her mom and dad, Joanna and Brett and the changing parade of nurses monitoring her progress. She’d see herself as if from a distance—a disconnected, almost out-of-body experience—lying on the bed, comfortable at first, but feeling growing discomfort as the contractions increased, and then, mostly naked and slippery with sweat, crying and swearing at Justin.

  At the height of the pain, her memory of the day would become even more hazy, although she would vaguely recall being wheeled to the delivery room and seeing Dr. Miyata and Dr. McBride there. Her legs were spread apart under the bright lights. She’d remember bearing down, straining until she felt she’d burst, then being told to take a huge breath and to push again. Finally, after what would seem like forever, the last horrendous push came, and the feeling of the baby sliding out. “It’s a girl,” someone had said, laying it on her stomach. She and Justin had laughed and cried and said they already knew that.

  That is where the jumbled collection of memories ended. Everything from that moment on and for the next few days became, for Kia, crystal clear, every detail etched in her memory for life.

  The surge of love she felt for the tiny, wrinkled baby in her arms was staggering. It had been checked over, cleaned and wrapped tightly. Now she stared into the baby’s face, dumbstruck by the overwhelming power of the moment. This was the baby that her body had created and nurtured since it was just a mass of cells. This was the baby that she’d visualized and talked to, that had completely occupied her mind for so many months. Kia pulled back the infant’s knitted white cap. A mass of wet black hair was stuck to her head. She loosened the towel and drew out an arm. The tiny, clenched fist immediately found its way to her mouth, and the thumb popped right in.

  Kia looked up at Justin. “Just like in the picture,” she said.

  Justin, she could see now, was struggling to maintain his composure. He’d been strong for her all day, but now he looked like he was going to crumple, about to give in to his fatigue.

  “Sit down, Justin,” she said, making room on the cot beside her. He obeyed willingly.

  “Do you want to hold her?” she asked.

  He nodded and took the baby from her. “She’s perfect,” he said, his voice husky. “She looks just like you.”

  Kia peered at the tiny face in Justin’s arms. Suddenly, the eyes blinked open and stared back at her. “They’re blue,” she said, amazed.

  “They sure are,” said Dr. Miyata, who’d joined them and stood quietly admiring the baby. “Although they can change over the next few months.”

  But Kia knew they wouldn’t. Those were Derek’s eyes—not quite as blue, perhaps, but his eyes nonetheless.

  A little later, Brett and Joanna knocked on the door and stepped into her room. The baby was sleeping in a bassinet beside the bed, and Kia’s parents excused themselves and went to find coffee. Justin had gone home shortly after the birth. Kia watched as Joanna and Brett approached the bassinet.

  “Oh, Kia,” Joanna said, her eyes welling with tears, “she’s beautiful.”

  Kia nodded. She watched Brett’s reaction. He regarded the baby quietly and then turned to her. “Well done, kiddo.”

  Kia smiled back. Somehow she felt less jealous of Brett.

  “Go ahead,” Kia said to Joanna. “Pick her up.”

  Joanna’s face took on the awestruck look of a small child at Christmas. She paused, smiled nervously at Kia, then gently lifted the tiny baby out of her bed. She held her close, breathing in the sweet new-baby smells. Kia watched her closely, wondering if Joanna would feel the same ambivalence toward this baby as Kia had with the little guy she’d fed late last night. But Joanna’s reaction was entirely different. The tears she’d managed to hold back a moment ago could no longer be contained. They spilled down her face as she turned to her husband. “Oh, Brett, look at her. She’s so perfect.”

  Kia watched as Brett reached out to take her from Joanna. He swallowed hard. The two of them reminded Kia of herself and Justin that afternoon. There was no doubt that they’d already made a connection with this tiny person.

  “She’s got blue eyes,” Kia said.

  “No kidding,” Brett said. “Isn’t that strange?”

  “Her dad’s eyes are blue, and so are my dad’s. I guess that makes it possible.”

  “I guess so.” Brett passed the baby back to his wife. She sat on the edge of Kia’s bed. “Have you thought anymore about the names, Kia?”

  She nodded. “Justin pointed out that one of the names on our list, Brenna, means raven. And look at her hair. It couldn’t get more raven-like than that.”

  Joanna nodded, stroking the mass of silky black hair.

  “Do you still like that name?” Kia asked.

  Joanna looked at Brett and he nodded. “We love it, Kia,” she said. “And we were thinking that we’d like her middle name to be Kia.”

  Kia smiled sadly. “Thanks. I appreciate th
at. I really do. But I was hoping her middle name could be Grace.”

  Joanna and Brett looked at each other and then back at Kia.

  “After a very special friend,” Kia explained.

  “Brenna Grace. I like the sound of it,” Brett said.

  Joanna nodded. “I do too. Brenna Grace it is then,” she said. She looked at the new baby and whispered, “Welcome to the world, Brenna.”

  Although the nursery was too far down the hall for Kia to actually hear the babies, she woke up late that evening with an urgent need to go and check on Brenna. Tapping lightly on the nursery window, she got the attention of the nurse, the same one who’d been on duty the night before. She opened the door for Kia and smiled.

  “Look at you!” she said. “You’ve had your baby.”

  Kia nodded, but her eyes were scanning the bassinets, looking for Brenna. It seemed like all the babies were awake and crying, and the sound of them made Kia anxious. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples ached. She spotted Brenna’s mop of hair and hurried over to her. Sure enough, she was wailing and wiggling around in her small bed. Her head was jammed up into a corner. Kia leaned over the baby and spoke, “Shh, Brenna, it’s okay. I’m here.” She watched in amazement as Brenna abruptly stopped crying, as if listening to her voice. Kia reached in and picked her up. Cradling her in her arms, she continued talking. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here now.” The baby stared up at Kia, wide-eyed. Kia continued to talk, delighted that the baby responded to her voice. “Are you hungry? Is it time for your bottle?”

  “Do you want to feed her?” the nurse asked. “And change her diaper?” She’d come up beside Kia, carrying another baby. “I could use the help tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Kia answered. Putting the baby down, she unwrapped her and pulled up the tiny hospital gown. Her skin was a beautiful tan color, just as she had imagined. She counted the fingers and toes again. She changed the diaper and then studied the remains of the umbilical cord that was once attached to her own body. Then she dressed her and wrapped her up tightly.

  “You won’t need the mask, not for your own baby,” the nurse said. “But it’s always a good idea to wash your hands first. The formula and bottles are over on the counter. You can get yourself started.”

  Kia lay Brenna back down while she washed her hands and fixed the bottle. She had resumed crying by the time Kia got back to her, but, once again, just the sound of Kia’s voice was enough to make her stop.

  This time it was much easier to make herself comfortable in the rocking chair, with a smaller, softer stomach to contend with. Kia pushed the nipple into her baby’s mouth and began to rock the chair. She felt complete. She hoped Brenna would take forever to drink the formula.

  The nurse came over with another baby and they sat together again, just as they had the night before.

  “How did it go today?” she asked Kia.

  “It was hell. I’ll never do it again,” Kia answered.

  “New moms always say that right after the birth, but it doesn’t take long to forget the pain. Mostly what you’ll remember is the miracle of having had a baby.”

  Kia didn’t answer. In a day or two she wouldn’t have a baby any longer. She’d be left with only the bittersweet memories of the birth.

  “Are you sore?” the nurse asked gently.

  Kia nodded. “Oh, yeah.” Sore was putting it mildly.

  “And have you started the pills to dry up your milk? Sometimes they make you feel a bit nauseous.”

  “I took some,” she answered, “but when I came in here I think I felt like ... like I had milk anyway.”

  “That’s normal. It will take a few days for your body to figure out that it’s not required to make it.”

  Kia nodded again. She and Brenna were looking right into each other’s eyes. She wished she could hold onto this moment forever. A few seconds later, though, the baby’s eyelids closed and Kia pulled the nipple out of her mouth, propped her on her shoulder and gently patted her back. Then she cradled her again and returned the nipple to her mouth. The baby sucked, but didn’t wake up.

  “I’d swear she recognized my voice when I talked to her,” Kia said.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” the nurse answered. “She’s been listening to you talk for months.”

  They rocked in silence, even after Brenna had finished her bottle. Kia didn’t want to return to her lonely room.

  Glancing out the window she noticed the huge moon again. It made her remember Grace, two floors up. That gave her an idea.

  “I’m going to bring her back to my room,” Kia told the nurse.

  “Are you sure, Kia? I’ll be watching her and a good night’s sleep is what you need.”

  “I only have her for a short time. I can catch up on my sleep later.”

  “It might be best, Kia,” the nurse said softly, “if you began separating from her now. You’re just going to make it harder on yourself.”

  “I’ll take that chance,” Kia said, placing Brenna in her bassinet and pushing it toward the door.

  The nurse put the other baby in its bed and opened the door for Kia. She frowned as she watched her pass through, but said, “All the best, Kia. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  Kia turned back. “Thanks.” She pushed the bassinet past the nurses’ station and into her room, but she didn’t climb into bed. Instead, she lifted Brenna out and then stepped back into the hallway. The coast was clear.

  On the sixth floor, Kia padded silently down the hallway until she came to Grace’s room. She peeked in, expecting to find Grace asleep, but even in the darkened room Kia could see the bed was empty. She felt a pang of alarm.

  “Hi, Kia. I’ve been expecting you.”

  Kia peered into the corner. There was Grace, sitting in her wheelchair.

  “Grace! What are you doing? You scared me!”

  “I’ve been enjoying the full moon and thinking of you.” Her eyes settled on the bundle in Kia’s arms. “Ahh. You brought her. I was hoping you would.”

  Kia moved closer to the old woman. “Let me take a peek,” Grace said.

  Kia bent down and showed Grace the sleeping baby.

  Grace smiled, and Kia was relieved to see it was the same old smile, strong and beautiful. “She’s every bit as perfect as I knew she would be. Hold her closer so I can smell her.”

  Kia did as she was asked and Grace inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing purer than that,” she said. “It stirs up such beautiful memories.” They gazed quietly at the sleeping baby for a few more moments. “And how are you?”

  “I’m okay. But how come you’re not in bed?”

  “My back was sore tonight. I’d been lying flat for too many hours. I just had to get up. I’m sure someone will be here any minute to put me back in bed, but for now I’m enjoying the change of position.”

  Kia nodded. She sat on the edge of the bed. “We’ve named her Brenna Grace,” she said.

  Grace stared at Kia. “Really?”

  Kia nodded.

  Grace wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything, Grace.”

  They sat smiling at each other, their eyes filled with tears.

  “I was hoping you’d come tonight,” Grace said finally. “I wanted to see you with my own eyes and know that you are okay. And now I can see that you are.”

  “Oh, Grace. What about you? Are you okay?”

  “I feel very peaceful, Kia. I really do. And look at that moon. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Kia nodded.

  “Makes you feel like dancing, doesn’t it?”

  Kia could see the twinkle in Grace’s eyes. As sick as she was, Grace hadn’t lost her sense of humor. Kia decided to play along. “Then why don’t we?” she said. Standing up, she went over and carefully propped Brenna in the old lady’s lap. Then she moved around behind the wheelchair and gripped the handles. She pushed Grace and Brenna closer to the window, gently rocking the chair, like a slow dance.
/>   “We need some music to dance to, Grace.”

  “Perhaps you could sing something, Kia.”

  “Are you kidding? Then you’d really get sick.”

  “Try me.”

  Kia looked out at the night. The soft light of the moon poured into the small room. The words to a song began to float into her head. She began to hum. Gently, she rocked the wheelchair and sang, very softly, “When universal mysteries, bring wonder in the night, creating peace and harmony, I’ll hold your spirit tight.” Kia cleared her throat and laughed self-consciously. “I warned you, didn’t I, Grace?”

  “It’s a beautiful song, Kia. Don’t stop.”

  Kia hesitated, swallowed hard, rocked the wheelchair some more and continued. “We’ll seek the full moon rising, like music from above, then dance to the beat of friendship, a lullaby of love.”

  She had to stop again. It was a struggle to hold back the tears. She wished she’d chosen a different song.

  “Keep going, Kia, please,” Grace pleaded.

  So Kia continued, ignoring the warble in her voice. “We’ll whirl and sway together, until all dreams come true, before our souls unite in peace, my heart will dance for you.”

  When she was finished, Kia slowly moved around to the front of the wheelchair and picked up Brenna.

  “That was beautiful.” There were tears streaming down Grace’s cheeks now. “That will be our song, okay, Kia? When I’m gone and you’re looking out at the night sky, think of me, won’t you? And sing that song.”