The Four Seasons (27 page)

Jilly placed her hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face her. The look in her eyes was both entreating and determined. “Tell me what's going on, Rose,” she said, giving her a gentle shake. When she turned her head away, Jilly said, “Come on, play fair. We all agreed no more secrets.”

“You promise you won't laugh? I'll die if you laugh.”

“I promise.” Jilly raised her fingers into the Girl Scout sign.

“Do you want me to leave?” Hannah asked, already turned toward the door.

Rose shook her head. “No. We've all gone through enough. You should stay.”

“You've earned your badge,” Jilly said to Hannah.

After they each stretched out on the beds, Rose tucked her legs under her in her geisha pose and rested her hands on her thighs.

“What would you say if I told you I had a particular friend?”

Jilly scrunched up her face. “What the hell is a particular friend?”

“Don't tease. And don't tell Birdie. I don't want to hear her proclamations on the subject.” She eased off her thighs to stretch out on her belly. “I have a friend that I met on the Internet.”

“That guy you were telling us about before?” Hannah asked.

“Yes. We met in a chat room for stamp collectors.”

Rose saw a vague expression of disbelief spark in Jilly's green eyes. Rose held her gaze, challenging her to say anything teasing. When she didn't, she looked over to check Hannah's reaction, then continued. “We started e-mailing each other privately and we've become good friends. I like the way he thinks at so many levels and we share so many in
terests. We've never met. We've not even exchanged photographs. But we can tell each other anything and…I think I'm in love with him.”

“Aunt Rose! You're having an Internet love affair?” Hannah was getting a kick out of this, which annoyed Rose to no end. “I've read about things like that but you're the first person I've ever known who's actually done it.”

“What do you know about this man?” Jilly asked. “His background, his job. Rose, he could be some lecherous guy who—”

“No! He's not like that. I'd know if he was a creep. I may not have been around as much as you, Jilly, but I'm not so ignorant that I couldn't figure that much out.”

“Hey, I've been fooled. Plenty.”

“I read about people getting tricked all the time, Aunt Rose. There are a lot of losers out there on the Net.”

Rose bridled. “Thank you very much.”

Hannah blanched. “I don't mean you.”

“Hannah,” Rose said a tad sharply, “I'm a lot older than you and my idea of a good time is not hanging around in bars. I'm not the least interested in getting ‘the look' from some strange guy. I don't have a lot of friends to introduce me to someone and I'm not a joiner so I'm not involved in church groups or clubs. Face it. There aren't a lot of ways for women my age, in my situation, to meet nice men. And vice versa. That doesn't make us losers. That makes us lonely.”

“I'm sorry, Aunt Rose. I didn't mean it that way.”

“You're young, Hannah. Kids your age hang out together and go out and do things all the time. At my age, things are different. For one thing, a lot of folks are married. Besides, meeting someone on the Internet is innovative, if you want my opinion. We're certainly not unique. Tons of people are doing
it. My friend is a truck driver. He's on the road a lot and doesn't have a chance to meet many people.”

“A truck driver?” Jilly's voice rose.

“Yes,” Rose said defensively. “Don't you dare get snobby on me, Jilly.”

“Okay, okay,” Jilly said. “So, what's his name?”

Rose faltered. “We don't actually know each other's names yet. Exactly. Just our screen names. I'm Rosebud. And he's DannyBoy.”

Jilly's lips twitched. “Let's just call him Danny for now. I think that's a safe bet.”

“I like Rosebud,” Hannah said, trying to make up.

“So you've got a particular friend on the Internet,” Jilly said in way of summary. “His name is Danny, he's a nice fellow and he drives a truck. I'm assuming he's not married.” She delivered a pointed look. “You do know that, don't you?”

“Of course. He's divorced.”

“Some guys just say they're divorced but they're not,” Hannah interjected.

“No,” Rose replied emphatically. “Not him.”

“Uh-huh.” Jilly narrowed her eyes. “I hope so. Assuming all that's true, are we missing something here, Rose? Why are you crying?”

“He wants to meet me.”

Jilly's brows rose. “So?” She glanced at Hannah, who merely shrugged.

Rose pursed her lips, miserable, wanting to tell Jilly everything and nothing. “I'm afraid to meet him, okay? So I've not written to him for the past four days and now he's just written to me that he doesn't want to be a pest and he's stopped writing. Oh, here, see for yourself,” she said, seeing two pairs of puzzled
eyes staring back at her. Standing with a swoop of frustration she waved at them to follow.

Rose led them back to the computer and, connecting to the e-mail, showed them the files of DannyBoy's letters. Jilly sat in the chair and Hannah read over her shoulder, muttering, “Slow down,” when Jilly scrolled too fast.

After they read the letters, Jilly looked at Rose and said with a look of wonder on her face, “Oh, Rose, you're right. He sounds absolutely wonderful.”

Rose's worried frown melted into a smile of relief. “He does, doesn't he?”

“What's holding you up? You should meet him.”

Rose paced the room and took several deep breaths. “Jilly, I'm not like you. Meeting people has always been hard for me and it's been getting harder as I get older. Birdie thinks it's because I've been cooped up in the house with Merry for so many years, and that might be partly true.” She shrugged. “But meeting Danny is another thing altogether. He's not just anyone. He's someone. It matters that he likes me.”

“Why don't you exchange pictures?” Hannah asked, awkwardly tugging her hair, trying not to ask another stupid question. “Everyone does these days.”

“I know,” Rose replied. “I guess I didn't want to get to that level. I don't know why. It seems pretty silly now that I talk about it.”

“Not really,” Jilly said kindly. “The stakes are high.”

Rose exchanged a grateful glance. “I've read on the Net about people who really liked each other in their e-mails and even liked the photographs, but when they met face-to-face something was missing. They just didn't click. What if it doesn't click with DannyBoy and me? Would we just stop writing to each other? I'd hate for that to happen. I'd really miss him.”

“You just have to take that chance. He asked you to say goodbye and at the very least, you should do that. But frankly, you're a fool if you do. I always ask myself what's the worst that can happen if I do something. So, what's the worst that can happen to you if you meet him?”

Rose thought for a moment and replied, “He wouldn't like me.”

“Okay. Then what would happen?”

“He'd stop writing to me.”

“Right. And isn't that what's happening already?”

Rose looked down and nodded.

“So what have you got to lose by meeting him? Fear is your greatest enemy. And did you ever stop to think that you might not like him? Or you might adore him and he might adore you and you'll live happily ever after.”

“Now who's being silly?”

“Sillier things happen every day.”

“I've heard about a lot of people who get together and even marry after meeting on the Internet,” added Hannah with encouragement. “There are stories about them in the magazines all the time.”

“I know. I know. I just don't believe those kinds of happy endings happen to people like me.”

Jilly rose in a graceful swoop, then reached over to cup her hands around Rose's cheeks like blinders. Her own eyes were blazing as she looked at her with convincing tenderness. “Rose, Rose, what am I going to do with you? Do you remember our dreams as children? Do you remember who the man of your dreams was? Who you wanted to marry when you grew up? Think back.”

Rose was surprised by this question from nowhere, but Jilly's gaze was relentless. Rose's eyes glazed over as her mind traveled
far back to recollect that tidbit, buried deep within. She remembered hot, summer nights when it was too humid for sleep. She remembered following her older sisters out of their rooms, dragging blankets and pillows behind them to lie out on lawn chairs by the pool. They'd chat for hours, swatting the mosquitoes, till sleep overcame them or Mother came out to fetch them back to their beds.

“I remember. I wanted to marry an explorer. Someone who traveled around the world.”

“Exactly.” Jilly's eyes were shining. “And he's waiting for your answer. No one can do this for you, Rose Season. It's up to you to make your dreams come true.”

J
ILLY WAS STANDING BEHIND
R
OSE
as they worked to compose a reply to DannyBoy's e-mail when she heard the door swish open behind her. Then Hannah's voice, high and broken.

“Mom, what's wrong?”

She swung her head around to see Birdie walking stiffly into the room, her face white and drawn, her eyes filled with alarm and her hands holding her belly. “Birdie?” She pushed away from the table to get to Birdie's side.

“Don't worry,” Birdie said in her serious doctor's voice. “It's just my period. It started quite suddenly. Help me to the bathroom. Please.”

Jilly took her arm and helped her through the narrow path to the bathroom. Looking over her shoulder she squelched a surge of panic seeing drops of fresh red blood trailing Birdie on the floor. “Hannah, stand back. There's no room in that bathroom for one much less three. Rose, do you have any pads?”

“I just bought some,” Birdie called out as she entered the bathroom. “Look in the bags by my bed.”

With the other two busy with the task, Jilly turned and said in a low voice to Birdie, “Are you okay?”

Birdie sat down and grimaced, then, waving Jilly away, she pushed the door closed. Jilly heard the sound of gushing fluid and brought her fingers to her throat. She wasn't sure what was happening, which frightened her all the more. Hannah approached with the pads in her hand. Rose was right behind her. They stared at her as though she knew what was going on.

“Birdie, we have your pads. Are you okay in there?”

There was no answer.

“Mom?”

“I'm okay.” Birdie's voice was strained. “Leave me alone a minute.”

“Why don't we sit down,” Rose said, firmly herding them away from the door.

Jilly paced back and forth from the bathroom door to the room door, like a caged animal. Hannah and Rose got out of her way, choosing to sit on the side of the bed. Rose clenched her hands in her lap. Hannah chewed her nails.

After a while the bathroom door opened a crack. They all jumped up and hurried to the door in a rush. Birdie's hand shot out.

“Could someone hand me some towels, please? And the pads.”

They scrambled to comply, passing things into her hand and trying not to look inside the privacy of the bathroom. When Hannah handed her a pad, Birdie called out with impatience, “The whole bag. Please.”

“She's being so damn polite,” Jilly hissed to Rose. “That's too much blood for a period. What's going on?”

“Are you sure you're all right in there?” Rose called through the door.

“Yes!”

“Do you want one of us to come in?”

“No! I'll be out in a minute. Goddammit, don't rush me!”

Rose stepped back from the door. Jilly moved closer and whispered, “That's better. Sounds more like Birdie, at least.” Then, moving to the door, she called, “Take all the time you need. We're out here if you need anything.”

A few minutes later, Birdie called out in a calmer, lower voice, “It appears to be a miscarriage.”

Jilly and Rose exchanged shocked glances.

“Is that okay?” Hannah asked, frightened now. “I mean, does she need to go to the hospital?”

Rose went to put her arms around her niece. “Believe me, Hannah, if anyone knows what to do in this situation, it's your mother. She'll let us know if she needs anything.” Inwardly, however, she didn't feel so confident. She knew Birdie well enough to know that she didn't know when to ask for help. “I'll just check,” she said to Hannah.

She knocked on the door. “Birdie? It's Rose. We could drive you to the hospital, just to be sure.”

There was a moment's silence. “No. No, that won't be necessary. I know what I'm doing. A miscarriage this early on is not a hospital event.”

Rose crossed her arms in worry. Birdie was using her clinical doctor's voice, the one she'd used whenever Merry had been sick and she had come to Evanston to personally give her a checkup. Merry had always been a little afraid of Birdie the Doctor.
That
Birdie was unemotional and methodical. Not the same Birdie who liked to bring candy and tickle her little sister just to hear her laugh. Rose always felt it masked whatever Birdie was truly feeling.

“I could use another towel,” Birdie called out shakily. “I'm just going to take a short shower. I don't want you to worry
about the sound of water, okay? And Rose? If you could grab me some Motrin, that would be great.”

“Listen to her,” Jilly said, her voice filled with frustration. “She sounds like she's having a beauty night in there, not a miscarriage. What kind of bullshit is that?”

“It's just how Birdie handles medical crises.”

“Birdie,” Jilly called at the door, her worry making her voice harsh. “Unlock the door. What if something happens to you? Stop being so—” She bit off the words, not wanting to criticize. She knew it was just her worry causing her temper to rise. “Let us help you for a change.” She jiggled the handle.

“I don't want anyone's help. Just go do something, would you?” Her voice hitched. “I want to be alone for a minute.”

The clunk and hiss of the pipes abruptly ended all conversation.

“I've got to get some air. I'll be right outside.” Jilly grabbed her coat and a pack of cigarettes and left in a hurry.

There she goes again, Rose thought to herself. Running away. “How are you doing over there?” she asked Hannah.

Hannah was sitting on the bed with her hands pressed together between her knees, looking a little pale. She shrugged.

“Do you think you could order us a pizza?”

“I'm not hungry,” she replied, staring morosely at the closed bathroom door.

“Maybe
you're
not, but your mother might be later on. And I am.”

Shame flushed Hannah cheeks. Rose was glad to see it. The girl was growing up quickly. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'll do it right away.”

“Thanks, honey,” she said soothingly. “We've got to be strong for your mom now. Go on, order your mom's favorite. There's money in my wallet.”

“No, I've got some,” she replied, surprising Rose with her generosity.

Fifteen minutes later, Birdie was lying on her back in bed, raised slightly by pillows. Her hair was damp and brushed back from her face, which looked sallow and grainy. But the fear was gone from her features, replaced with heartbreaking sadness and a new quality of defeat.

Everyone was fatigued. The miscarriage was unexpected and therefore all the more frightening. Birdie had lost a lot of blood but she assured them in a clinical manner that everything was normal.

“They say it's nature's way of getting rid of a defective baby.”

“Are you sure you don't need to go to a hospital?” Rose asked, handing her two Motrin and a glass of water.

“All I need is some rest.” Her voice sounded flat and unemotional. She swallowed the tablets and noisily drank the water.

“Is there anything we can get you?” Hannah was being solicitous. She sat by her mother's side with an expression of devotion. “Pizza's coming. I ordered cheese and fresh tomato slices. Your favorite.”

Birdie weakly patted her hand. “Thanks, but I'm just tired. I'd like to sleep now.” When Hannah squeezed her hand tightly and looked at her like a frightened child, Birdie squeezed back and mustered reassurance. “Okay, honey?”

Hannah nodded, then bent to kiss her mother's cheek. She held her lips to her cheek an extra moment.

Rose took the glass from Birdie, turned off the light by her bed, and then helped Birdie settle comfortably under the blankets. She was good at nursing. She always felt it was a quiet way of showing how much she loved someone.

“Why don't you go to your room now,” she whispered to Hannah. “I'll be here for her if she needs anything.”

“I'd like to stay with her. Not just for tonight, but to move in here, you know?”

Rose registered this. “I think that's a good idea. But why not start tomorrow. It's too much to move things around tonight, and if she needs anyone, I've got the most experience. Is that okay with you?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, okay. You'll call me if there's a problem?”

“There won't be a problem,” Birdie called out from under the blankets. “I'm just fine.”

Rose looked at Hannah and shrugged.

Hannah left for her room. Closing the door, Rose looked at Birdie, a big hulk huddled on her side with the blankets up to her ears. Her new, vibrant red hair stood out in damp spikes against the white pillow. Rose's heart broke for her sister. She was trying to be Birdie the strong one. Birdie, the one who could handle everything. Except that before she looked away, Rose saw the flash of tears in her eyes.

 

Jilly stood on the little wooden bridge away from the motel. The collar of her thin leather coat was stiff and cold against her neck and she was shivering in the blast of frigid northern air. She leaned on the railing, smoking cigarette after cigarette, enjoying each one less than the last. It was the repetition of movement she enjoyed more than the taste. The sight of the little red tip burning in the darkness was soothing.

She'd felt so useless in the room with Birdie and the others that she'd had to leave or go mad. Birdie's face and mannerisms were so cool and efficient it didn't seem natural. All they saw was a hand that stretched out through a crack in the open door. All they heard was a crisp and polite “Thank you. No, I don't need any help, thank you.”

Jilly's arms had hung uselessly at her side as she stared at that closed bathroom door knowing that Birdie was losing much more than blood in there. She was losing a baby. No amount of competence would tidy up
that
realization so easily. She took a long drag, exhaling a plume that hung in the chilly air.

From far in the darkness she heard a familiar high bark. Looking out toward the sound, she saw the dim reflection of a man's silhouette in the moonlight and a blur of white at his feet.

“Hello,” she called out.

Pirate Pete took off after the sound of her voice, barking joyously. She reached into her pocket for the dog cookie she always kept there now. Behind him, Rajiv approached hesitantly.

“Are we interrupting?”

“No, not at all. I suppose I should say something like we've got to stop meeting like this.”

He laughed. “Now, this is karma. Are you sure we're not interrupting?”

“I'd like some company, actually. It's been quite a night.”

He crossed the bridge, meeting her in the middle. He was wearing a navy wool pea coat and his hands were tucked into the pockets. The dark made his eyes even more mysterious.

“More news about your daughter?” he inquired.

“No. Actually, it was rather traumatic. Birdie had a miscarriage.”

He startled at the news. “Is she all right?” he asked quickly. “Does she need a doctor?”

“She
is
a doctor. And she's fine—or so she tells us. The miscarriage was early in the pregnancy. In fact, she didn't even know she was pregnant. Imagine. Not knowing.” She took another puff from her cigarette and leaned again over the railing, staring straight ahead into the darkness. “I've read that ten percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, usually in the first twelve weeks. Probably more, since so many go unre
ported.” She looked up. “Do you know what I thought when I heard Birdie was having a miscarriage? I thought, why didn't that happen to me? If I had been in that ten percent, I wouldn't have messed up my life. Or the lives of my sisters. Or my parents. Do you think other mothers ever wonder about that? What their lives would have been like had they not had a child? Maybe? I wonder if my mother thought that about me.” She laughed derisively. “Probably.

“But then I thought, how could I wish that my baby had not been born? My beautiful daughter? I know that, despite everything I went through, I would have chosen to have her.” She turned her head to look him in the eyes and spoke from the heart. “If I could have changed anything in my life, anything at all, I would have kept my baby.” She saw sympathy in his eyes. Turning toward the water again she tossed the cigarette into the river. “You don't understand. That's really big for me to say. Really big. I've never told anyone this before, but when I gave up my baby, deep down I was relieved. Isn't that awful? You must think I'm horrible. But that's how I felt. I was only seventeen and scared out of my mind. What did I know about being a mother? And everyone was telling me that giving the baby up was the right thing to do. So I did.” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed heavily. “But later on…then it hits you.

“So I'm standing here tonight wondering what Birdie is feeling now. My poor, darling, strong, fragile sister. Is she sad about losing the baby she didn't even know was inside of her? Or is she relieved? Either way, she's going to feel so sad.” Her voice cracked and she tightened her lips against the cry.