LEXIE
Another week goes by with no word from Annie. I don’t want to call Luke again—he unsettled me so much with that last conversation. But I do want to know how she’s doing, so I email him early one morning as I’m dressing to go to the hospital.
Luke, could you please let me know how Annie is doing? I don’t need details, just want to know that she’s okay.
Later that day I hear my cell vibrating in my handbag, but Daisy is unsettled, so I ignore it until I manage to convince her to sleep. It is almost an hour later that I rest the baby in the crib, and after I breathe a sigh of relief and stretch my tired arms, I check the phone.
One missed call—Mom and Robert.
I stiffen and my heart starts to race. In the seven years since Mom and I reconnected, she has never once called me—it’s always been me calling her.
Something must be wrong.
I fly out of the NICU and into the corridor as I return the call. My mind is racing—What now? What else can possibly go wrong? What if Mom is sick?
Mom answers with a light, “Hello?”
“Mom? It’s Lexie. What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Why? Why did you think something was wrong?”
“You called me, Mom! Why did you call me?”
“You said you’d send a photo of the baby,” she says, then she adds weakly, “I just thought you might have forgotten. I was really looking forward to seeing her.”
I’d laugh if the situation weren’t so maddening. With all that I’m dealing with here, Mom thinks to call only because she hasn’t received her photo? I clench the phone in my fist and my jaw tightens. I close my eyes and try to suppress the rage.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing today, Mom?”
“No,” she says warily.
“I have spent the whole damned day trying to soothe your granddaughter. I’ve been rocking her, and pacing the halls with her, and singing to her—and nothing has worked. And Annie is too sick to get on the phone and ask how she’s doing, and then you think you can just call me and instead of asking how we all are over here, you ask me for a fucking photo?”
“Don’t speak like that, Lexie,” Mom gasps. “You know I can’t tolerate profanity!”
“Mom. You should be here. You shouldn’t be calling me asking for photos, you should be on a goddamned plane, coming to do your part. Annie needs you and the baby needs you and—”
“Alexis, I’m going to hang this phone up right now. You’re just lucky Robert isn’t home to see how upset you’ve made me.”
“I’ll send you a fucking photo when the day comes that I get more than six hours of sleep and I don’t spend every waking hour trying to help your granddaughter get better. Until then, you can damn well wait.”
Mom hangs up, and I growl and press my fist to my forehead.
“Tough day, huh?”
Sam is there behind me, and it’s like he has radar for the exact moment I need to see him—but it’s also a moment when I don’t want to see him. I can’t bring myself to explain that call, and the worst thing is, I’m not exactly sure why. Sam would empathize—he’d say all the right things, and he’d be angry with Mom, just as he should be.
In all of this, Sam has never once judged me. Maybe that’s why I can’t tell him. He’s been so perfect in all of this. What’s going to be the straw that breaks his back? When am I going to see the moment when it’s all just too much?
“I have a spare hour today,” Sam murmurs as he pulls me close for a hug. “Want to get some lunch out of this shithole?”
“Daisy has been really irritable today—I need to stay with her.”
Sam raises his eyebrows and smiles at me softly. It’s the smile that enrages me, because it shows me that he doesn’t understand at all how much she needs me.
“She’ll be okay for an hour, Lexie.”
“No, she won’t,” I snap at him, and I pull away from his embrace. “Should I just let her lie in there and cry while we go off for a latte and a sandwich?”
“Is she crying now, Lexie?”
“She just went to sleep—but she’s been crying all day.”
“And if she does cry now, while you’re out here on the phone, what will happen?”
“A nurse will try to console her, but they don’t have the time—”
“If she cries for the whole hour we’re away, will she be harmed by that?”
“She’ll be miserable.”
“Well, won’t she be miserable even if you’re there? When did they give the morphine?”
“Just a while ago, but—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve spent every waking moment here for fourteen days in a row—we’re going out, into the sunshine.” When I stare at him stubbornly, he gives me a pleading look. “Think of it this way, honey. If you don’t look after yourself, you’ll get sick or you’ll burn out, and then who is going to look after Daisy? Don’t come with me to lunch because you want to—come with me because she needs you to. I promise, you’ll be glad you did.” I ponder this for a moment, and Sam pulls me back into his arms and brushes a kiss over my forehead. “Okay?”
We get burgers at a diner down the block, and Sam bans me from saying the words Annie and Daisy for the duration of the lunch. Instead, we talk about his day, and then we discuss the garden we were clearing in the backyard over the weekends before Annie’s issues cropped up, and Sam offers to get right back to the yard work on the weekend.
“Or I could come into the hospital for a few hours and you could stay home and do the gardening,” he offers, and in an instant, I’m scowling at him again.
“You spend all week at the hospital. Why would you spend the weekend there for my niece?”
“Our niece, Lexie. And I kind of want to. She’ll be living in our house soon, and I think it’d be good if she bonds with me.”
I pause. I feel like I need to be at the hospital myself—that’s what Annie is expecting, that’s what I feel most comfortable with. But I can understand Sam’s logic—and its generous of him to offer. I hazard a smile.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s play it by ear but...thanks, Sam.”
“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.”
We go back to our burgers and chat a bit about the weather. As we’re walking back to the hospital, a sudden thought strikes me.
“I might just go for a walk before I go back,” I say, and Sam glances at me in surprise.
“Great idea, Lex. I’d join you, but I have a patient—”
“No, no—it’s fine. I... I might just walk to the Walmart and print a photo of Daisy for Mom.”
“Ah, okay.” Sam nods, and brushes his lips against mine. “Can we do this again soon, honey?”
I nod, then pull him close for a more lingering kiss. Oh, I do love Sam—I love the way he smells, and the feel of his thick hair through my fingers, and the way that the world feels brighter when he’s near.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I murmur when we break apart.
“Let’s get takeout and watch a movie.”
“Okay,” I agree, and then I make my way to the Walmart. I have taken daily photos of Daisy to show Annie when I’m allowed to visit her so I print out all of these, then I add duplicates of the best ones for Mom. Daisy isn’t smiling yet, far from it, but she’s still beautiful and I know that Mom will see Dad in her, just as I do.
I scrawl a note on the back of a photo I took of Annie staring down at Daisy, the day before she left for rehab.
Mom, I hope you enjoy these. It would be so great to see you if you can find a way to get here. Daisy would love to meet her Grandma. Love, Lexie.
I write the note, but I know Mom isn’t going to come.
* * *
Daisy is still asleep when I get back to the NICU.
“We didn’t hear a peep from her the whole time you were gone,” a nurse assures me. I sit beside my niece and take the phone out from my handbag. There’s an email from Luke.
Hi, Alexis,
I’m happy to report that Annie is doing a little better—she has left the detox unit and is now getting settled in her own room in the main facility. This is where the real work begins—because now that she is physically detoxed, we need to start to work on the psychological side of her addiction. I rarely take patients directly under my care. However, Annie and I have built a good rapport, and I’ll be conducting her therapy myself.
As you know, at the clinic we have a mandatory two-week period where patients are not allowed visits or calls. However, in Annie’s case, she needs some time to adjust to the main facility before she has contact with home. However, you may like to plan for a visit next weekend.
Annie has had a difficult few weeks, but she is still headed in the right direction. You can be very proud of your sister. I believe she has learned a lot about herself even in the last two weeks.
I am proud of my sister. I put the phone away and I smile at Daisy.
“Well, well,” I whisper. “Your momma might just surprise us all.”