by Tif Marcelo
Infection.
Sepsis.
Sophie grabbed the thermometer from the bedside table, and seconds after she stuck it in Adelaide’s ear, it beeped: 101.3. “You have a fever.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That means I’m calling your doctor right this second.”
Footsteps sounded. “Hey, is there anything I can do?”
Sophie turned, and Regina was at the doorway, with Genevieve just behind her, hair matted and messy, and with a finger in her mouth. Her chin was wet with drool.
“Mama okay?” Genevieve said around her finger.
“Oh, baby,” Adelaide said. “I’m okay, baby. I’m okay.” She turned to Sophie. “I don’t want her to… to see me like this.”
“Reggie, grab that bag over there and fill it with underwear, pants, and a shirt maybe. Toiletries,” she said slowly, thumbing her phone screen at the same time. Her first thought: Text Jasper. He always knew what to do.
Can you get a hold of Matt for me?
SOS but unofficial?
Then she punched Fort Patriot Community Hospital’s phone number, written on the discharge form, also at the bedside. In the background, Genevieve, sensing the emergency, melted into a puddle of tears. Regina held the little girl tightly in her arms.
Thank goodness Regina was here to manage Genevieve, because Sophie’s priority was to get Adelaide to the emergency room as quickly as possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Regina
Regina lunged for her phone when it rang three hours after Sophie took Adelaide to the ER. “Hello?”
“It was a bile duct leakage,” Sophie said without pretense.
“Wait, what?” Regina asked.
Genevieve, lying on her belly on the living room couch next to her, looked up from a video on the iPad. Her eyes were droopy, and her hair was disheveled—just about how Regina felt. Standing, Regina went to the foyer to pace out of earshot. Toddlers knew and absorbed more than adults gave them credit for.
“It was a bile duct—”
“No, I heard that part. Was that what caused the infection?”
“Yes, but they won’t know how bad it is until they go in.”
“Go in meaning s—” She lowered her voice. “Surgery again?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get a hold of Matt?”
“Jasper did. I spoke to him briefly, too.”
“Damn.” Besides her relief that Adelaide was exactly where she needed to be, Regina was impressed with Sophie’s clear head. “Thank you for telling me. I was so worried.”
“How are you guys doing?”
Regina half laughed, looking around the house and then at her copy of Waiting to Exhale cracked open and turned pages down on the couch. In the hours since Sophie and Adelaide had left, ironically, she could only read. Somehow, she felt a little closer to Adelaide by doing so. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Genevieve is calm, the house is standing, and there’s food in the fridge. And I’m at the part where Gloria’s ex-husband came out as gay to her and she’s in denial.” She stopped, cringing at her earlier lie. “So I guess I can admit that I’m not at a hundred pages.”
“It’s all right, I knew.”
“Busted.” She looked at the floor. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay, I was plotting on getting up early tomorrow so I could beat you to the kitchen.”
“God, we are petty.” Regina shook her head, though at that moment, she was grateful. Grateful that, at least, at this moment, they were able to put things aside.
“As can be. Or in denial.”
“Like Gloria.”
“Now that was a book club statement. Who are you?” Sophie laughed.
Regina remembered their first book club together, their first threesome conversation when Sophie assured her that she belonged in book club. The decade had flown, though the days had been protracted. But those almost nine months together at Millersville had been filled with great memories.
“Soph, I’m worried.”
“Me, too, Reggie.” After a pause and a sniff, she said. “The doctor said that this would be an overnight stay, maybe two.”
“Okay, well… do you want to switch off, if that happens?”
“That sounds good. Let’s play it by ear?”
Regina sighed. “Okay. I’ll probably take Gen out on a stroller walk after we get off the phone, maybe to the park. I think she and I could use some air.”
“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.”
“And hey, Soph?”
“Yeah?”
“You were amazing. I don’t want you to get a big head about it, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad you’re there for Gen. Maybe Adelaide had a sixth sense about this all. We needed all hands this morning.”
“Even Jasper.”
Another pause. “Yeah, I guess that guy, too.”
Regina couldn’t discern Sophie’s tone, if it was loving or sarcastic. But as she opened her mouth to ask, the doorbell rang. “Someone’s at the door.”
“I’ve got to run, anyway. I’ll keep you posted.”
With a supervisory glance at Genevieve, Regina padded toward the front room. “Just let me know if you need food. I can bring you some from home.”
“Thank you. Bye.”
Regina stuck the phone in her back pocket and opened the door, belatedly thinking that she was no longer in small-town Georgia and perhaps she should have checked the peephole.
But she was rewarded by a sight for sore eyes.
She felt her body give. “Henry.” Under an arm he carried a box, and with the other hand, a reusable bag, with the blooms of flowers overflowing out of its top. On his face was a tentative, shy smile.
“I know I should have probably called, but your last text was—”
She rushed to him, and wrapped her arms around his torso. What was it about him? Her usual defenses were nowhere to be found. Though logic would insist that she make sure he hadn’t misrepresented himself these eighteen months, her instincts eased her worry. The fact that he was at the front door after her last text, a simple I feel so helpless, meant that he listened to her.
Then, she realized how much she was squeezing him, and stepped back. “Sorry, I—”
“No, no need to apologize. I… I kind of liked it.” His cheeks pinkened. “Anyway, I’m not here to impose. I just wanted to drop this off.” He shook the box. “Pastries from the shop, and I remember you eyeing the flowers at the market the other day. I figured… well, my sister, Carolina, loves fresh flowers. So anyway.” He held both packages out.
God, he was so… thoughtful. “Do you want to come in?”
“Oh, nah… I mean, not unless you want me to.”
“I do. Want you to.” This felt like first loves, teenage angst, and her heart thrilled at it. With Logan it had never felt that way.
Quit comparing the two.
Still, when he entered the town house, she cataloged the way he moved, lithe instead of bulky and hulking. She watched him greet Genevieve like she existed—while Logan treated Miko, until he was much older, like a plaything rather than a person. And when he plated the pastries and then promptly cleaned up after himself, it sealed the deal.
Henry was different.
They were sitting as a party of three with Genevieve at her toddler table, with a plate of pastry each in front of them, when Henry asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Regina Velcroed Genevieve’s bib. “About what?”
“Feeling helpless.”
She split the croissant on her plate, and it flaked on her fingertips. She marveled at its perfection, made better when it melted in her mouth. It allowed her a moment to wonder how much she should reveal.
Henry waited patiently. Again, unlike Logan.
“Usually, if there’s a problem, I’m fixing it. If Baby’s broken, I fix her. If someone’s hungry, I cook. If someone needs help, I… do. And right now, I feel like I’m not doing enou
gh.”
“I bet your friends don’t feel that way.”
“Yeah, well… Sophie’s really doing the heavy lifting.”
Henry took a bite out of his croissant. “I don’t think it’s a competition.”
She shrugged. “I dunno. For a decade now, Adelaide has been closely in touch with each of us, with Sophie and me not being in touch with each other. It’s been weird, to say the least, to still have the ghost of her around.”
“What you’re doing here is equally important.” He reached the short distance across the table and touched her forearm, grounding her. His thumb feathered across her skin and drew her arm closer. “And I bet Sophie has missed you, too.”
The idea startled her. “Miss? I didn’t miss her.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “No?”
Regina opened her mouth to rebut. Because no. She hadn’t missed Sophie. She was angry, and rightly so. But she was interrupted by the sweep of Genevieve’s arm and the accidental swipe of her sippy cup onto the floor.
“Uh-oh! Sorry!” Genevieve yelped.
It broke the moment, and it was probably a good thing. This was why Regina, six years postdivorce, never did get past that first date. There was too much at stake. And it wasn’t just because she was a mom or that she was always busy or that she was living in her mother’s home.
There were too many feelings involved. She couldn’t look a man in the eyes fully. She double-checked all friendships, only letting a few in. She preferred to pass once it got serious. It had been safer that way.
Henry was at the sink before Regina recovered from her thoughts; he ran water over a sponge. “Don’t worry about the milk—I can wipe it up.”
“Oh, okay.”
He bent down and picked up the cup and assessed the floor for droplets of milk. “I bet that sippy cup claims to be spill-proof. And yet.”
She giggled at his intensity. “Are you in the market for sippy cups?”
“No, but…” He straightened, and he swooped his hair back with a hand. “Maybe one day. Carolina’s a single mom, so I’m around young kids pretty often. I love kids.”
He said it so seriously that Regina stilled.
He stood swiftly and rinsed the sponge at the sink and washed his hands. Correction, he was scrubbing them raw, as if in deep thought, suds blooming on his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.
Regina willed the moment forward, because in between the words he spoke was a message, though she wasn’t willing to investigate it. Not yet. So she changed the subject, swiftly. She said the next thing that came to mind—something that had been simmering in her quest to feel more helpful while at Adelaide’s. “You know, Genevieve’s turning two next week. I was thinking—why not have a little celebration here at home?” Then, as the words left her mouth, the more inspired she became. “This is probably last-minute, but do you have time for a cake order for next Saturday? Nothing too elaborate.”
Startled, he said, “Yeah, sure. I can check. Our schedules are back at the bakery, but I can call you to confirm. For how many folks?”
“Um… ten? Fifteen? Or can I confirm in a couple of days?” Regina’s to-do list materialized in her head. She would need to figure out what people to invite, food to plan, and decor to buy.
“That might be something I can fit in. But listen, Regina—”
“Great! Well!” She bent down and wiped Genevieve’s face with a napkin. And because she wasn’t yet ready for whatever he wanted to discuss, added, “I think you’re done with your snack, little girl. Do you want to get ready to head to the playground?”
With the word playground, Genevieve bolted out of her seat.
“Oh, okay, well, I really should get going. You’ll call me about the cake?”
“Yes, I will.” She swept crumbs into her palm and took a breath to recover. “Thank you for coming by. It was so thoughtful.”
Somehow, she negotiated Henry out of the town house with a kiss on the cheek, and hoped that it showed her gratitude, despite how she’d blundered the end of their visit.
When she was sure Henry was far enough away, Regina schlepped the stroller out of the hallway closet.
She was the one who needed the walk to the park.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Adelaide
Adelaide awoke to the sounds of beeping, her vision hazy. She was discombobulated, unsure where she was, with a white dotted tile ceiling above her. It was the complete opposite of how she had fallen asleep the night before, ensconced in the warm blue of her walls and the textured curtains she had painstakingly researched before deciding on the perfect pattern. The bed she was lying on surely wasn’t her Tempur-Pedic, nor was she covered by her luxurious organic cotton sheets.
Then the memories trickled back: the surprise of extreme postoperative pain, her gasping for her breath from it. The drive to the ER at Alexandria General instead of Fort Patriot Community Hospital because they were at capacity. The worried expression of the ER doc on call, who had quickly discerned that surgery was necessary.
She lifted her arms off the bed, where two IV lines ran bags of fluids. A peek downward showed the thick tube of a urinary catheter running from under her blanket to somewhere over the side of her bed. She’d remembered having one when she had Genevieve, for her C-section.
Genevieve.
Her spine straightened at the thought of her daughter. Genevieve had cried out for Adelaide as she was being helped out the door this morning. Her sweet little one was probably worried and all alone.
No, not alone, with Regina.
Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and then it opened to Sophie, who was carrying a to-go cup. Her face lit. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” Adelaide’s voice croaked; she cleared her throat. “Just now.”
“Don’t try to sit up.” Sophie set down her cup on the bedside table, then pulled a chair closer to Regina. She sat. “You need to take it easy for now. And really, you should take advantage of it, because they’re going to walk you soon enough.”
“I feel like I lost a week of my life.”
“Your body went through the wringer trying to right itself. But I just spoke to the nurse, and she said that surgery went well, and your doctor should be here in a bit to let you know more. But let me tell you, your husband and mother are blowing up my phone. They’re both so worried. I do think, young lady, that you should call your mother.”
“What did she say?” She wiggled in discomfort and flushed with an unknown feeling. Her mama was boss and priest and parent all at once.
Sophie was already pulling out her phone. “That I should have you call as soon as you woke up.”
Their conversation was interrupted by another knock at the door, and a man in a lab coat walked in. “Hello, Adelaide. Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Popov. I did your surgery.”
She sat up in bed. “Yes. Thank you, for everything.”
His smile was gracious. “Just doing my job, though it’s really our ER doctor who made the right call to admit you. It was especially wise of your friend to bring you in this morning. It could have been so much worse. May I sit?” He gestured to the chair.
“Sure.” Adelaide said.
“Your surgery went well, and so did your initial recovery. I wanted to chat with you about upcoming follow-up care. You’ll be checked regularly by nurses on the ward, though I’m hopeful the rest of your recovery will be smooth. There will be quite a bit of teaching, especially with diet for the short term. But I’ll be back to check in on you tomorrow, and your discharge should be on Tuesday, with your first follow-up about three days after discharge. As usual, if there’s anything you need at all, please let one of the nurses know and they can always give me a call.” With a nod, he left the room, leaving the space thick with emotion.
Sophie smiled. “That sounds promising. Home in a couple of days.”
“So fast,” Adelaide whispered. Everything had happ
ened so fast. And now that she was up and lucid, the full consequences dawned in slow motion. “You’re supposed to leave on Tuesday.”
Sophie shook her head. “I’m not leaving on Tuesday.”
“But your work?”
“Work will be fine without me, and before you even say his name, so will Jasper. He knows me better than to think I’d leave Regina to take care of it all.”
“I feel bad,” Adelaide said, though she didn’t mean just about Regina or Sophie. It was about everything. She was taking so much of everyone’s time. The worry she caused. She felt bad that her body turned against itself and put everyone through an emergency. She could have died with all these unresolved feelings about her family. She could have died before even verbalizing what she wanted in her life, caught up in what was supposed to be her plan.
“Don’t say that.”
“But I do.” Adelaide scooted up in bed. “Soph, I don’t think I want to have another baby.”
“Whoa. Where’s that coming from?”
“I don’t know.” Adelaide took a deep breath to make way for the avalanche of emotions that had been released by surgery. “While I was in pain at home, I was so scared and so confused. And with everything this morning. All I know… is that I want to do things different from now on.” Adelaide leaned back onto the pillow. “I’m allowed to change my mind, right?”
“I… yes, absolutely. I don’t want you to think my shock is about that. It’s just that I thought…”
“I thought, too, for a long time. Even in the haze of Gen’s babyhood, my eye was on the prize of a second baby. I was an only child, and I wished I had a sibling, especially when we upped and moved around. I wanted a playmate. Now that my parents are old, I wish I had someone to commiserate with, someone to help me take care of them. But I don’t know if those reasons are good enough, because somewhere deep inside, I’m no longer feeling it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why. Two babies makes so much sense. It’s the perfect number. You have two babies. One each for you and Jasper. One each for me and Matt. It’s what I always pictured. A white colonial with a wraparound porch, a long driveway, and a picket fence. Two babies and a dog.” She looked up to Sophie’s wry expression.
