“Not even to protect her?”
“She wouldn’t understand. Besides, you’ve had this for years, and she hasn’t gotten it. And now that you know, you can take precautions.”
“I’m so afraid,” Paulette repeated.
“Just love her like you’ve been doing. We’ll get through somehow.”
Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. A big drop fell and splashed on her white cheek. “Why, Ariana? Why? I can’t figure it out. I thought I was forgiven for my sins, but now I have to pay for them. And so does my family. I don’t understand why!”
Those were the same thoughts that had tortured me the day before after I left the cemetery. I still didn’t have an answer, so I said nothing. I stared at the floor, unable to help my best friend. Then an idea came. I knew it was the Spirit whispering to me, though I hadn’t asked for aid.
“Give it time,” I said. “I don’t know why, but I have faith. The Lord loves you, Paulette. He does.”
“Will you help me?”
I wasn’t sure what she was asking. If I would help her understand? Accept? Help her with Marie-Thérèse? Or was she asking if I would help her to die? I thought I might be able to help her with the first three but never the last. I couldn’t help her die; surely she wouldn’t ask that.
“Whatever you need, Paulette,” I heard myself saying. “I love you.” I wanted to hug her but didn’t dare.
She laid her head back on the pillow. “I love you, too, Ariana.”
There was nothing more to say, so I turned and walked to the door. I paused. “Get better, huh? You and I have more memories to make, too.”
She gave a short laugh, and to my surprise, it sounded genuine.
When I joined the others, Jean-Marc and my father had already left for work. I felt strangely deserted, though I had known all along that Jean-Marc was planning to leave after our tests. I envied him for being able to bury himself in work and thus not having to think about the possible test results.
“Is there anything we can get for you?” I asked Pierre.
He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”
“I’ll come back later,” Louise said, “to see how she’s doing.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Pierre kissed Marie-Thérèse and then took a few steps backwards. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I gotta get back to her now. I don’t like to leave her alone.”
We started slowly down the hall. The twins had overcome their temporary shyness and begun to investigate their surroundings. Accompanied by Marie-Thérèse, they darted in and out of cubbyholes, hallways, and everywhere else they could imagine. I felt like a puppet on a string, with my head jerking from side to side as I tried to keep track of the youngsters. I gave André to my mother and barely managed to stop Marc from going into another patient’s room. I grabbed firm hold of my children’s hands, and Louise took Marie-Thérèse’s. In Louise’s other hand she carried a small suitcase for my niece. Linked together, we walked to the elevator.
“Wait!”
I turned to see Nurse Giselle waving at us. We stopped and waited for her to catch up. She was breathless when she arrived, and her wiry black hair puffed about her face. With one hand she patted it down, and with the other she held up a thick booklet.
“It’s nearly everything you need to know about AIDS,” she said. “I find it helps when everyone in the family knows what to expect. Dispelling any misconceptions can get rid of unnecessary fears, while telling you what to look out for. For example, because HIV has been found in tears and saliva, people suppose they can be infected with the virus by getting a little fluid on them. But the truth is, you’d probably have to drink a quart or more of either liquid before you were at risk of infection. At least that’s what they taught me in nursing school.” She pushed the booklet into my hands. “This tells it all.”
“Thank you.” I meant it. Her comments about the tears were especially useful. I felt foolish now, though my fear had been real.
“Have you had many patients die?” Louise asked.
Giselle nodded, her expression sober. “Yes. I have.”
“How can you stand it?”
“I make their last moments comfortable,” she said. “That’s all I can do. The rest is between them and God.”
“Do you believe in God?” I asked. The question was instinctive for members like me, who lived in places where there wasn’t a large population of Latter-day Saints.
“I do. If anything, working here has helped me to believe that.”
“Why?”
“Because I see the peace most of my patients achieve before death. And on their faces after they die. Only God can give them that.”
“What religion are you?” asked Louise.
Giselle smiled. Her face was sweet and innocent-looking. “Just of God. That’s all.”
I wanted to ask her if she had heard of our church, but she glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I need to check on Paulette and give her some medicine.” She smiled again and left.
I drove home, feeling lighter than I had expected. Giselle’s moving testimony of God’s existence had strengthened my own, even if she wasn’t a member of the Church.
Thank you, Father, for reminding me, I prayed silently.
The twins argued in the back. André in his car seat and Marie-Thérèse in front both sat silently.
“Mommy,” Josette said, “Marie-Thérèse is going to live with us forever now, isn’t that right? Marc doesn’t believe me.”
“Stop arguing now,” I said firmly, glaring at them in the rearview mirror. “Marie-Thérèse will live with her parents for a long time to come. Meanwhile, she is always welcome to come to our house to play. She’s part of our family.”
I stopped the car at a red light as I finished speaking. Louise glanced over, and our eyes met. We both knew Paulette didn’t have very long to live compared to a regular life span, even if it might seem a long time to a child. What did the future hold? What of Pierre? And what of the unborn child who might or might not have HIV? I was willing to take care of Marie-Thérèse; I loved her already as my own. But to take the responsibility of a sick infant? To place my own children at risk? I didn’t know if I could do it. I couldn’t even admit to myself that I didn’t want to. It was too much to ask of anyone.
I sighed, pushing the thoughts away. For now, I would take one day at a time. Until the uncertainty of our own tests was over, there would be no point in planning for the future.
Chapter Seven
I was unable to function normally the rest of the morning. I found myself staring at nothing for long periods of time. When my children spoke to me, I would come out of my trance, only to realize that an hour had passed, and I couldn’t remember what had kept me so absorbed.
Finally, I shook myself and concentrated on playing with the children. There were a million things I should be cleaning around the house—a pile of dirty dishes, a tower-high mound of laundry, dust and bits of paper everywhere—but they seemed unimportant now. Instead, I played the brave hero in my children’s make-believe game of prince and princess, cutting down pretend foes and protecting them as I might not be able to do in reality.
Josette and Marie-Thérèse draped sheets over their heads and the lower part of their faces; Marc and André wrapped towels around their waists. André tripped repeatedly on his towel during the sword fights, but he didn’t cry. He rarely did.
At noon we had a picnic lunch in the bedroom, and afterward, they fell asleep on the blanket as I read them a story. I had a twin on each arm, with André squeezed in next to Josette, his head on my stomach and his short legs thrown casually over his sister. Marie-Thérèse slept next to Josette.
I set the book down and lay back on the pillows. My arms felt stiff, but I didn’t move. I wished this moment could last forever, that we would never have to face the reality of tomorrow and the dreaded test results.
I kept telling myself that I didn’t feel sick. But then, neither did Pierre.
“Ariana?” L
ouise called softly from the hall.
“Yes?” I extracted myself carefully from the sleeping children. For all my care, André, who had been the first to sleep, awoke and held out his chubby arms. I picked him up and went into the hall.
“I’m making vegetable soup, if that’s okay,” Louise said. “Then I’ll go back to the hospital. I’d like to take some for Paulette. That hospital food didn’t look too appetizing.”
“I’ll help you,” I said. “We’ll make extra to serve with the turkey breasts I’m making for the children’s dinner.” Jean-Marc and I wouldn’t be eating because we had begun a fast after lunch.
While we worked, Louise chattered about how Lu-Lu had changed, how she had suddenly become outspoken and had taken to staying out late.
“Maybe she’s trying to find herself,” I said.
Louise stopped peeling the potatoes. “I think she might be involved in drugs.”
My heart must have skipped a beat because I suddenly felt dizzy. I sank abruptly to a chair, staring at André, who sat on the floor playing with a truck and a few miniature people. He wasn’t much older than Nette had been when drugs had killed her.
“Will you talk to her?” Louise asked.
“Of course.” But I feared it might be too late.
* * *
Jean-Marc came home before dinner that evening, carrying a huge bouquet of my favorite white roses. I was content to have him home, whatever the reason. Together we fed the children, and afterwards we washed the dishes, read the Book of Mormon, and had family prayer. Then we set up the cot we kept under Josette’s bed for Marie-Thérèse and kissed each child good night. In his room, André curled up in his crib and slept immediately, but the twins seemed to take their father’s presence as sign of a holiday, and it was difficult to get them and Marie-Thérèse settled. Because of the test we were more indulgent than usual, and they pushed for full advantage, even without understanding the cause. After a bathroom trip and two drinks of water each, the suddenly dehydrated children finally fell asleep.
The excitement of the evening wasn’t over. Louise came home, her face more drawn and weary than I’d ever seen it. “Paulette is dying,” she confirmed as we went into the sitting room. “I can see it in her eyes. I’ll never forget the look; I remember it so well.”
As he hugged his mother, Jean-Marc’s eyes were haunted. “We’ll get through this together,” he murmured. “We’re a family.”
“Your father was in the hospital for three weeks before he died. He had the same look. Do you remember?”
“No.” His whispered voice was slightly self-accusatory.
“How long does she have?” I asked. “Do they know?”
Louise sighed and sank to the couch. “The specialist can only tell me the statistics. That’s one of the problems with this disease: it affects everyone differently. He did say that once AIDS sets in, most people die within three years—some a lot sooner. He worries that Paulette has had it for quite some time. Evidently, Dr. Flaubert has been treating Paulette for a variety of what he calls opportunistic infections, without recognizing what was causing the problems in the first place. She’s had anemia, bacterial infections, and now pneumonia, which is the leading cause of death among AIDS patients and quite often the first symptom to develop. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault, really. He didn’t have any reason to think she was at risk for AIDS. She never told him about being involved with drugs.”
“So what does that mean? Is Paulette coming out of the hospital or not?” I asked. “What does the specialist say?”
“Dr. Medard. His name is Dr. Medard. But he doesn’t know. Evidently, people with AIDS get a special kind of pneumonia. At least now that he knows what she has, he can treat it more effectively. But it depends on how far gone her body is. He believes she’ll live a couple of months. Longer if she gets over this infection.”
“If?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I had thought we would have years to come to terms with Paulette’s illness.
“What about the girls?”
“Paulette’s had HIV for at least six years,” Louise said. “Apparently, people can have it up to eleven years before it develops into AIDS. It’s transmitted through sexual intercourse, so Pierre,” her face seemed to collapse, “had almost no chance to test negative. But according to the doctor, like with Marie-Thérèse, the baby has around a 30 percent chance of having the virus. Had they known sooner, they could have given Paulette a drug that helps prevent it from spreading to the fetus. They are giving it to Paulette now, but we’ll have to wait and see how the tests come out.”
I hadn’t been asking that question exactly; Pierre had already told me about the drug to help the baby and about it possibly taking HIV eleven years to become AIDS. What I wanted to know was who would take care of the girls when Paulette was gone. I knew Pierre wouldn’t be able to do it; he would be fighting for his own life.
“Paulette’s being pregnant is another difficulty,” Louise continued. “They have to be careful of what they give her because some drugs can hurt the baby.”
“Paulette doesn’t deserve this,” I said.
“No,” Jean-Marc agreed. “No one does.”
We sat in forlorn silence, broken only by the occasional chiming of the grandfather clock my parents had given us for our wedding.
“I guess it’s time for bed,” Jean-Marc finally said.
“I made up a bed for you in André’s room, Louise,” I said. “If Lu-Lu gets here, she can sleep on the couch bed.”
“I’m going to wait up for Lu-Lu. She should be here by now. Besides, she’ll need to be told.” Louise’s face showed her worry, one I understood well. It wasn’t every day a person learned a brother was going to die. My own world had been shattered when Antoine had been killed.
We started nervously when a loud buzzing broke the silence in the corridor—someone ringing at the outside door downstairs.
“It must be Lu-Lu,” Louise said.
Jean-Marc got up from the couch and shuffled to the intercom box in the hallway near the door. Static sounded as he pushed the button. “Who is it?” he asked.
I couldn’t make out the answer, but another buzz signaled that Jean-Marc had pushed the button that would open the downstairs door.
“It’s Lu-Lu,” he confirmed as he came back into the room.
A short time later a quiet knock sounded at the door, and Jean-Marc went to open it. He returned shortly, followed by Lu-Lu. They were not alone.
“Hi, everyone,” she said, giving us a wave with her hand as she stood under the arched entryway. She was a feminine version of Jean-Marc, with the same green-brown eyes as her brother. Her short figure was lean and fit, and her dark hair was cut short, similar to my own, but it was newly highlighted with red. She had a thin nose and a wide, laughing mouth. She didn’t usually talk much, but I had never seen her without a smile—until tonight.
“This is Philippe Massoni.” She motioned to the stranger beside her, a tall youth with shaggy brown hair and a scruffy beard. I could almost have sworn her words were slurred.
Louise stood. “What are you doing here?” She addressed the man directly, her words an accusation.
“When he heard I was flying to Paris, he decided to visit friends himself.” Lu-Lu’s expression was triumphant.
“We have a family crisis,” Jean-Marc said stiffly, standing next to his mother. “No offense meant to you, Philippe, but we need to talk with Lu-Lu.”
“But that’s what I’ve come to tell you.” Lu-Lu nearly propelled Philippe into the room. The blue eyes that marked his family as likely originating in the northern part of France were dulled, his faded jeans and T-shirt reeked of smoke, and there was a faint aroma of alcohol on his breath. I joined my husband and mother-in-law in opposing this man. I would never forget those smells; they reminded me of Jacques and of Paulette the way she had been before joining the Church. None of us was ready for Lu-Lu’s next statement.
“Philippe has asked me
to marry him.”
We gaped in shocked silence.
“And you said?” Louise finally found her voice.
“I said yes.”
“That’s great,” Jean-Marc said softly. “And what temple will you be getting married in?”
Lu-Lu blinked, and her defiance faded. “Uh, we don’t know where or when yet. We’ve only decided tonight.”
I saw the uncertainty in her, even if the others could not. She didn’t want to marry outside the temple, but she felt she didn’t have a choice. Maybe she thought her love might change Philippe; indeed, love might change him, if anything could. The only obstacle would be if Philippe didn’t want to change. My father was right when he said that change had to come from within.
“Well, there’s no hurry to decide anything,” I said lightly. “We have a problem you need to know about.”
“Is it Paulette?” Lu-Lu realized we were serious about the family crisis, that we weren’t just trying to get rid of Philippe.
“Yes.” I looked at Louise and Jean-Marc, but they said nothing. “She has AIDS,” I said gently.
Philippe jerked, and Lu-Lu began to cry. She rushed into her mother’s arms.
“Maybe I’d better go,” Philippe said after her tears had subsided. He looked uncomfortable. Louise sniffed, and I knew what she thought of Philippe for running out on Lu-Lu at a time like this.
Lu-Lu didn’t object. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed his cheek.
Philippe nodded toward me and Louise. Jean-Marc held out his hand, but Philippe hesitated.
“It’s okay,” Jean-Marc said. I could see his eyes glinting in the soft light of the sitting room. He had a half-smile on his face, the one he wore when he teased the twins. “We don’t have the virus.” He waited until Philippe took his hand. “At least we don’t think we have it; we’ll find out in the morning.”
Philippe pulled his hand away as if he had touched hot coals and then tried to hide it by pulling on his beard.
“Silly,” Lu-Lu said, smiling through her tears. “You can’t get it from shaking hands.”
Philippe didn’t seemed convinced. He turned, and Lu-Lu walked with him to the door. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled over his shoulder.
The Ariana Trilogy Page 26
