Magdalena's Shadow, page 15
Coco wore only a thin sundress and James stood out a mile under the white cotton.
“Hi.” Coco gave her an uncomfortable smile. Though she had spoken with Tia and with her doctor about James, she had yet to discuss him with anyone else. She had spoken with Carmen on the phone since summer break had begun but had made excuses as to why they couldn’t get together. The day Carmen learned about James was not a day Coco looked forward to. Carmen was not pro-kid – if anything she was overly pro-choice.
“Wow,” Deb eyed her, “you’re pregnant. I wouldn’t have guessed it under all your winter clothes. How far along are you?”
“Seven months.” Coco looked away, focusing on Bob and Bebe, who stood by the water. Carson had joined their group, and Bebe was already instructing him in proper Bob relations.
“Do you know what you’re having?”
“A boy,” Coco smiled, glancing momentarily at Deb.
“Wow, one of each, just like me. You’ll love mothering a boy. It’s an incredibly loving relationship. There’s nothing quite like the mother-son bond.”
“Do you have a daughter?” Coco had only ever seen Deborah with Carson.
“Yes. She’s eighteen now. She lives with her dad in Virginia. I miss her all the time, but she likes it there. Good schools and green countryside.”
“I had no idea.” Coco eyed her friend who looked no more than thirty. “You must have been young.”
“I was fifteen when I had her. It feels like a lifetime ago. I was so scared, but everything worked out. I raised her and she’s turned out well. She moved south her sophomore year. She’s in a good high school and she’s happy.” Having skipped high school, Coco couldn’t relate but she understood scared. It lived with her.
“Motherhood is scary. I keep thinking I’ll get past the scared but I don’t. I look at Bebe and I think, wow, she’ll have a little brother to chase around instead of just ducks, but I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to wrap my mind around this.”
“You never will,” Deborah answered. “I look at Carson or I think of Lilly and I still can hardly wrap my mind around the reality that they’re mine. Disbelief is part of parenting.”
Coco nodded and watched Bebe and Bob walk up.
“Bob’s hungry, Mama.” Bebe began rifling through her snack bag while Bob wagged his tail feathers and bobbed his head expectantly.
“He always is.” Coco smiled, and watched Bebe feed him fish crackers before heading back to the lake.
“Is he going to help?” Deborah watched Coco quietly.
“Who?” Coco glanced up, wishing she could avoid the question. It was too hot and she wanted to go home. Besides, to admit that Rob was the father would be to betray their secret.
“I can’t remember his name… Mila’s dad, right?”
Coco shook her head no, unable to say his name or betray him. With time, Deborah’s eyes shifted off Coco and together they sat in silence.
“I’m eighteen,” Coco confessed quietly. “The father thought we were the same age. It horrified him. He doesn’t know about the baby.”
Coco felt Deborah’s eyes on her. Coco waited for the ugly questions to follow, but Deborah didn’t say a word. Instead she slid her arm through Coco’s like an old friend who understood and had been there. A child was coming, a little boy, and he and his mother would both need support.
“You’re a good mom, Coco. If you ever need help, I’m here for you.”
During the last week of August, James grew strangely quiet. He stopped kicking and wriggling in the evenings. His lack of movement made Coco worry.
“It just means it won’t be long now,” Tia said while she helped Coco into bed. She didn’t need to help Coco, but the old lady had lost all her edge in the past few months. Where once she had lectured now she soothed, and Coco loved this new Tia who tucked her in like the mother Coco wished she’d had. What would Magdalena have done in Tia’s place? She would probably have caught the next plane to Paris.
Coco tried not to think of her mother as she heard the front door close. Tia had left for the night and the silence in the apartment felt heavy and oppressive. Not even the normally constant sound of wind came to break up the buzzing silence. Coco let her mind wander away from #2, away from Chicago to Rob in his New York apartment, and then further into her memories of the beach house in Miramar. Only after walking through the garden of her mother’s Argentine home was she finally able to sleep.
“Tia!” Coco called, suddenly waking in pain only three hours later. The clock glared midnight and the old woman was gone. Bebe slept on in the other room, and Coco was alone in bed, the sheets wet and sticky around her. The phone sat on the nightstand, but when Coco reached for it a jagged pain ripped through her. She groaned, unable to breathe through the agony.
Bridging the three-foot distance between the phone and where she sat was the single most painful thing Coco had ever done. The phone glowed in the darkness as she scrolled through her contacts looking for her doctor’s name, but the pain grew too intense. Coco dropped the phone into the bedding and screamed. In the other room, little feet hit the floor as Bebe ran to her sister.
“Coco Mama?” Bebe flipped on the light and stared. Coco couldn’t answer, her bedding was not just wet; it was bloodied.
“Oh, my God!” Coco cried, the pain ebbing only slightly. Picking up the phone, she dialed 911.
“I’m bleeding,” Coco whispered into the phone when the operator asked her to state her emergency. “I’m eight months pregnant and I’m bleeding.” Bebe climbed onto the bed while Coco gathered the covers around her, shielding the child from the bloody sight. The voice of the operator faded in and out of hearing as yet another contraction hit. Coco tried not to scream while Bebe watched in worry. Taking Bebe’s hand in hers, Coco focused on her breathing. Slowly the voice of the operator grew less and less clear; the world lost its substance, Bebe’s face blurred and all sound and sight faded to black.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Coco woke in a noisy white room, alone and in pain. People bustled past the glass wall that separated her room from the busy hall. In the distance she heard machines beep and voices ring out instructions. Unconsciously Coco stroked her belly, comforting the child she was accustomed to feeling. But where James had been, there was only empty pain.
“No,” Coco gasped, her heart rate jumping on the monitor that beeped next to her. “No, no, please. My baby. Where is he?” Coco cried until she could hardly breathe.
The door opened and a worn looking nurse hurried toward her. “Hold on, honey, you’re okay,” she soothed, coming to Coco’s bedside. “Is he alive?” Coco cried.
“You’re fine, honey, everything’s fine. You just rest now.” Coco watched the nurse inject a syringe into her IV. The world went fuzzy, and sleep became unavoidable as the memory of James, of his dark eyes and strong chin, receded and was lost.
Daylight and the sound of voices woke Coco the second time. Bebe stared silently out the window while Tia spoke in a hushed voice. Again, Coco touched her tummy, again she found it flat, again she cried. This time instead of drugs, she was given Bebe.
“We almost lost you.” Tia’s face was lined with worry. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve stayed. I should’ve been there with you.”
Coco sobbed and held Bebe to her side. It hurt too much to move so she just held her sister and sobbed while she thought of her little boy.
“Coco.” Tia held Coco’s chin in her hand in order to make eye contact. The drugs hadn’t worn off, and Coco’s gaze was unfocused. “Coco, little James is okay. Look at me… he’s in the NICU. He’s a little sick with fever but he’s okay. Can you hear me? We were just with him.”
Coco blinked. Tears blurred her vision while her drugged mind tried to comprehend this new reality. Somewhere James was okay, and beside her Bebe was crying. The little girl cried because Coco cried, because she had seen blood, because she had talked to the emergency operator when Coco had dropped the phone, and she had ridden in an ambulance beside her unconscious sister. Coco knew none of this; she didn’t know that Bebe had pushed a chair up to the top lock on the door to let the EMTs in and then pulled a blanket over her sister while she waited for help.
All Coco knew as her giddy mind tried to focus was that James was alive.
Chapter Twenty-Four
That evening Coco held her son for the first time. Tia settled him into her arms, a tiny beautiful boy with eyes so dark they looked black. Little fingers curled into fists as those dark eyes stared up at Coco, memorizing her just as Bebe had only a few years before.
“He’s so beautiful,” Coco felt the tears stream down her cheeks. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m holding him.”
Tia sat next to the bed, her hands resting in her lap. When Coco looked up there were tears in the old lady’s eyes. “I’m just happy,” Tia explained, batting a hand at the tears that sparkled in the dim light.
“Me too.” Coco smiled up at her.
A moment later James’s eyes closed and he was fast asleep.
“You said he was sick with a fever.” Coco lifted her eyes off her son to look back at Tia. “He looks perfect.”
“There was an infection and so much blood loss that they were afraid he had gone without oxygen.” Tia smiled down at the sleeping baby. “But so far he seems fine and all his blood counts are good.”
“What infection? How could he lose oxygen?” Coco still knew nothing of the complicated route her pregnancy had taken.
“You lost a lot of blood, Coco. When things rupture, anything can happen.”
“I don’t understand. What happened?”
“You had a small uterine tear. Infection set in. You hemorrhaged and nearly died.”
“Oh, my God. How long have I been here, Tia?
“Almost three days. They had to operate on you twice.” Tia looked away, not wanting to say what she said next. “Coco, I’m so sorry. You won’t be able to have another child.” The shock of Tia’s words left a heavy silence hanging over the room. “Maybe if I had stayed and taken better care of you, we could have caught the tear sooner.”
“No, we couldn’t have. I felt fine that night, a little tired but fine. No one could’ve prepared for this.”
“I know, but we came so close to losing you both. I’m so grateful that God saw you through.”
Coco felt lost for words. She didn’t cry over the children she would never have. Instead she looked down at her sleeping son. They were alive and she was grateful, grateful beyond words.
The damage was irreversible. After the emergency cesarean, the doctors performed a risky emergency hysterectomy. Twelve days after escaping death, Coco remained in the hospital.
There was a knock at the door.
“Can I come in?” Carmen walked quietly into the small room where Coco lay in bed feeding her son. “So you’re a real baby mama now,” Carmen teased gently. She looked down at James for the first time, a soft sad smile touching her lips. Coco blushed and nodded looking down at the tan bedspread as embarrassment washed over her. “Tia told me you were here,” Carmen added, looking up at Coco. “I hadn’t heard from you in so long that when you didn’t come back to school I stopped by your place. You should’ve told me!”
“I couldn’t even talk about him with Tia let alone tell you. Besides, I know how pro-choice you are.” Coco glanced up momentarily at Carmen, who was still looking at the baby.
“Pro-choice isn’t pro-abortion; it simply means you have a choice. I would never have tried to make you choose one way or the other.” Coco looked from Carmen down to James as a long silence followed. “Does he look like him?” Carmen asked, breaking the silence.
“Completely.” Coco smiled sadly.
“Well, Rob must have been one fine looking man because this child is gorgeous.” Carmen smiled at Coco, their eyes meeting for a moment. Coco looked away, her cheeks flushed with a shame she was far from coming to terms with.
James was two weeks old when Coco left the hospital. Her movement was limited. She was allowed to walk from the bed to the bathroom, but she couldn’t pick up anything heavier than James. Tia came and went on a later schedule, buying food and doing the housework and everything else that was needed. Coco spent her time mothering the children and found, as the days passed, more happiness than she would have believed possible under the circumstances. As fall edged toward winter her strength returned until with time she was able to resume her life as usual.
Winter quarter at Gilman’s was difficult. Coco was behind, but with Carmen’s help she wasn’t totally lost. Despite slight stressors and petty inconveniences, life found its rhythm somewhere between fabric swatches and baby bottles – that was until the morning the phone lit up at six a.m.
Bebe lay asleep next to her sister. She’d had a nightmare just before two and James had woken up twice, so between the two kids, Coco had slept only three hours consecutively. Bleary-eyed she reached for the phone, wishing she could sleep for a week.
“Hello?”
“Coco!” Carmen’s voice rang with urgency. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. What’s the matter?”
“Have you seen the news? It’s everywhere. I can’t believe it.”
“What are you talking about?” Coco felt too tired to hide her exasperation. “What news?”
“I’m coming up; I’ll be there in five.”
“Wait –” But the line went dead.
True to her word, Carmen reached #2 five minutes later.
“What’s going on?” Coco asked, the moment Carmen walked in.
Carmen held a newspaper rolled up in her hands. She offered it to Coco. “Brace yourself. It’s not good.” She steered Coco to the sofa, sitting down beside her. Coco opened the paper slowly. On the front page a large color picture showed smoldering wreckage backdropped by green, leafy trees.
“What’s this?” Coco glanced up at Carmen. “I don’t understand.” Her eyes, fuzzy from lack of sleep, had trouble focusing on the tiny caption below the picture. Carmen gently turned the folded paper over where a headline screamed in huge black letters: Latin Supermodel Killed in Helicopter Crash. Coco didn’t read any more. The paper dissolved into a blur of black print. Magdalena was dead.
“I…” But Coco couldn’t finish her thought. She felt Carmen’s hand on her back as the words on the headline blurred in and out of focus. Blinking several times, she read:
“Argentinean supermodel, Magdalena Rodriguez, died last night when her helicopter crashed into trees near her home. It’s unknown whether the accident was due to mechanical or pilot error.” Coco looked up slowly. “Carmen, how can she be dead?”
Carmen shook her head. “I know it’s unbelievable. When I saw the news this morning I headed straight here. I’m so sorry, Coco.”
“I don’t know how to feel.” Coco swallowed hard, her chest constricting. “I should cry but I don’t feel like it. I’m not even sad. Is that right?” She looked at Carmen.
“If you’re feeling it, it’s right. She was far from the loving mother you are.”
They sat studying the photo, neither of them knowing what to say or do.
“I just heard.” Tia walked through the door five minutes later looking more shocked and grief stricken than either Coco or Carmen. She went quietly to the sofa, settling on Coco’s other side to look at the photo.
“It’s all over the TV,” Tia added. “They’re already whipping out retrospectives and photo montages. I can’t believe how fast those people work.”
Coco said nothing. She heard Bebe rustling sheets in the bedroom, doing her usual not-awake-not-asleep morning wiggle.
“She’ll be up soon.” Tia noted Bebe’s movement in the same moment.
“Are you going to tell her? She was her mother too,” Carmen added, distractedly running her finger over her jacket zipper.
“No, she wasn’t.” Coco spoke softly and without reproach. “As far as Bebe knows I’m it. Besides, how do you tell a small child about death? She’s not ready for any of this. I want to act like nothing’s happened.” Coco folded the paper before sliding it into a drawer in the coffee table “Because nothing really has happened.” She felt Tia’s hand squeeze her shoulder as the old woman rose and walked to the kitchen to start breakfast.
“I’ll leave.” Carmen rose to her feet. “It’ll just confuse things if I’m here.”
“Why don’t you stay for breakfast? Carmen, I would like it if you stayed. I think I need you to stay.”
Carmen nodded and sat down again. Coco sat beside her lost in thought. She couldn’t help but wonder if some part of her was broken. After all the years of grief and longing, Magdalena was dead, and she couldn’t feel anything.
“Carmen.” Bebe walked into the living room rubbing her eyes, her hair rumpled into messy flattened ringlets.
“Hi ya, girly,” Carmen beamed at the three-year-old, who looked at her critically. Bebe stared for a moment longer before turning to the kitchen to find Tia.
In the weeks following Magdalena’s death Coco could find no sanctuary from the memory of her mother. Sympathy poured in with each step Coco took. She nodded, smiled, and thanked everyone for their concern, their support, and their condolences. In all their caring consideration, not one of them allowed her the one thing she wanted most: to forget Magdalena had ever existed.
Sadly, not even Benny the doorman missed saying how sorry he was that such a brilliantly beautiful woman was dead.
“I remember her so well,” he sniffed, more distraught than Coco, “coming in and out with you when you were only so high.” He held his hand just above the floor.
And that would have been around the same time she left me and didn’t look back. The thought crossed Coco’s mind while she stared at the height the doorman indicated, the height of a child only a few inches taller than Bebe. Coco held her silence only because the man was clearly suffering.
