Barrett, dressed in a blue hazmat suit, had not moved from the garishly upholstered floral chair next to Carla’s hospital bed. Despite the three potent antibiotics that were being pushed into her through intravenous tubing she was dying. Fluid-filled pustules had erupted all over her. The capillaries in her eyes had started to burst. The coughing that signaled the beginning of the end had begun.
Around University Hospital there were dozens of other vigils, desperate parents watching and waiting to see if their child had contracted Clarence Albert’s bubonic plague.
‘Check again,’ Carla said, her lips parched and cracking.
Barrett dialed the room where Carla’s daughter was quarantined. ‘How’s she doing?’ she asked. ‘No signs of anything,’ she told Carla. ‘She’s going to be fine.’
‘They don’t know for sure, yet,’ Carla said. ‘How much longer till they know?’
To Barrett, whose tears were very close, Carla’s question had a second meaning: How much longer do I need to stay alive to know that my child will be all right?
There was a knock at the door, and a tall man in a white hazmat suit entered.
‘Carla,’ he called out softly.
With effort, she turned her head and squinted to find her ex-husband, his face barely recognizable behind the shiny Plexiglas shield, standing in the doorway. ‘Bill? Who’s with April?’
‘Kelly, she hasn’t left her side.’
‘I suppose I should be grateful,’ Carla said, her every word an effort. ‘Does April know that … I’m dying?’
‘No,’ Bill said, ‘we didn’t want to tell her until …’
‘Makes sense.’ Carla coughed. She struggled to push herself up. She reached for the glass of ice water on the table positioned over her bed. She carefully sipped through the straw.
Barrett helped steady the plastic cup as her hands shook. ‘Do you want me to leave?’ she asked.
‘Please don’t,’ Carla said. ‘Stay with me … what did you want, Bill?’
‘I don’t know exactly,’ he said, staring at the woman he’d once loved and subsequently abandoned.
Carla, trying hard not to start coughing, spoke slowly. ‘I’ve been so angry, Bill. You didn’t even give me a chance.’ She took a careful breath. ‘You thought that I was somehow defective, you just threw me away.’
‘I was frightened,’ he said, stepping closer to the bed, but still leaving a good eight feet between them.
‘I know that,’ she said, ‘and I know that I should have told you about my condition. I had so much fear, fear that you’d leave me, fear that I couldn’t be a mother. In the end, I don’t think any of that matters. I loved you, Bill.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I loved you too, Carla.’
She looked at Barrett, and attempted a smile. ‘So much for unconditional love.’ She coughed violently, and when she finally managed to catch her breath, looked up at her ex. ‘Bill, if you want forgiveness, it’s yours, just take care of our daughter. Love her better than you loved me. Don’t break her heart … like you did mine. Now, I’m really tired. Please go.’
The two women watched as he left.
‘You’re a psychiatrist,’ Carla said after he’d gone, ‘men are just weaker, aren’t they?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘When the going got tough, Bill took off … I don’t want to die,’ she whispered.
‘I know.’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘What you did was heroic,’ Barrett said, as tears tracked down her cheeks. ‘They came so close … you stopped them.’
‘It’s something my mother taught me: “If you make a mess, clean it up.” I have a favor to ask, Barrett.’
‘Name it.’
‘Look in on April. Manic depression runs in my family.’ Barrett could see it was getting hard for Carla to breathe, her words were labored. ‘If she got it …’ She coughed. ‘If she got it, I don’t know what Bill would do.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Barrett said, ‘I’ll find a way.’
‘I’ve kept a journal,’ she said. ‘They’re in a box in my closet. And one next to my bed. Take them. When April’s old enough, give them to her. She needs to know …’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. She coughed, and couldn’t catch her breath.
Barrett watched helpless as a stream of blood trickled between Carla’s lips. The cough worsened as blood vessels burst in Carla’s lungs. Blood poured from her mouth. Her eyes bulged as she gasped for air, but found only blood. There was nothing Barrett could do; she kept her eyes on Carla’s and watched as death came and took her. Barrett’s tears flowed and condensation formed on her Plexiglas mask.
She stayed seated and pictured Carla’s final acts, giving her life to save her daughter’s … to save Barrett’s.
She felt a buzzing through her suit and then her cell rang. It was Hobbs.
‘How’s she doing?’ he asked.
‘She’s gone,’ Barrett sobbed.
‘I’m sorry …’
Her eyes fixed on Carla’s, she asked, ‘How’s George doing?’ She braced for more bad news.
‘It’s looking good. They think his fever was from dehydration and not the bacteria. It’s coming down.’
‘Thank God! I’ll see if they’ll let me through,’ she said, referring to the series of decontamination rooms and hastily thrown together procedures the hospital had instituted to handle so many patients in quarantine.
‘Tell me you’re OK, Barrett,’ Hobbs said.
‘I’m not infected.’
‘You took an awful risk,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to stay with her.’
‘I did,’ she said. ‘In that playground someone had to give their life to take down the Glashes. She did.’
‘I know … I’ve thought about that a lot,’ he said.
‘Me too. She’s the one who ran after him. I didn’t.’
‘Neither did I.’
‘It was an awful death.’ Her tears ran as she looked at Carla’s ravaged body. ‘I’m so tired of all this. I feel like my brain wants to shut down, to block it all out.’
She sensed his pause.
‘Tell me if this is the wrong time,’ he said, ‘but I imagine they could take care of your little problem …’
‘Don’t!’ she said, harsher than she’d intended. ‘We have to talk, but not right now.’
‘Barrett …’
‘No,’ she said, her teeth beginning to chatter, ‘not now. I need to get through this. Let me see if I can get moved up to your floor. I’ll see if Justine can somehow work it.’
‘You know that I love you, Barrett,’ he said. ‘All the time you were with Glash, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how I wouldn’t be able to take it if he hurt you.’
She couldn’t take her eyes off Carla; she pictured Ed and then her dead husband. She had loved Ralph, been head over heels for years – even when he’d been unfaithful. As the seconds ticked she knew she had to say something. Had she led Ed on? There was the kiss, all those months ago, before everything had turned to shit. It was too hard to think, to find the right answer. ‘I love you too,’ she said, and knew that she’d have to sort it out later.
‘You’re not in love with me, though, are you?’ There was openness in his voice, no hint of anger, just sadness.
‘No, I’m not, Ed.’
‘Didn’t think so. Had to check. Barrett?’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re thinking about keeping that baby, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not certain,’ she lied, her decision clear. ‘We’ll talk when I get up there.’