Three Women at the Water's Edge (12 page)

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Daisy said, and grabbed her flailing daughter and ran into the bathroom with her. Jenny screamed and hit and kicked, and Daisy felt the blows in her stomach, a quick surge of fear for the new baby, and then the thought—no, let the new baby die, let this child live, let me make the trade! She nearly fell into the bathroom, nearly threw Jenny onto the floor, then shut the door behind them. She turned on the hot-water faucet full blast, closed the drain, pulled up the shower lever, yanked the shower curtain about the tub with such a force that the metal rings jangled. Then she grabbed up Jenny again and sat with her on the edge of the bathtub, inside the clinging shower curtain.

“It’s okay, Jenny, it’s okay,” she said, absurdly sweet and gentle, trying to calm her frantic daughter. “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.”

Jenny had stopped screaming, but her sobbing was almost uncontrollable and her breathing had gone wild and wheezy, each breath followed by the hideous, damnable honk and pop.

“It’s all right, Jenny, it’s okay, darling, Mommy’s here, I’ll take care of you, see the steam coming, it will make it all better, it will make it all right. See, there it comes, see that funny misty stuff rising, that’s steam, like in your vaporizer, it will rise and make your breathing better, you mustn’t cry.” Daisy babbled. She rubbed at her daughter’s back, she stroked her face. She had to make her daughter stop crying, she had to make her calm down, Jenny was nearly choking and her breath was coming in ragged uneven jags. “Calm down, Jenny, Mommy’s here, it will be all right, you mustn’t cry—JENNY STOP IT STOP THAT CRYING NOW OR I WILL SPANK YOU! STOP IT!!”

To her horror Daisy heard herself yelling at her daughter, saw her own hands give her daughter a sudden desperate shake. Oh dear God, Daisy thought, and despair plunged deep within her, what kind of a mother can I be to scream at my child at a time like this?

But incredibly, her anger had worked. Shocked at the sudden change from the lulling babble to the furious shout, Jenny had choked off a sob and turned to stare at her mother with wide eyes. Her lower lip quivered petulantly, but her breathing regained some evenness.

“That’s better, Jenny. For heaven’s sake, you’ll wake up Danny,” Daisy heard herself say in her bossy mama tone of voice, one that Jenny was so familiar with. Obediently, Jenny calmed even more, her chest quivering with repressed sobs. “Settle down,” Daisy repeated. “Stop squirming.” Jenny was barely moving at all, but seemed to be reassured by Daisy’s irritated voice. She relaxed. And the steam rose and rose, while the hot water thundered into the tub, roaring like a flood.

Daisy sat there holding Jenny, not thinking, full of agony, hypnotized by Jenny’s honking breaths and the force of the water, bursting downward from the shower nozzle, bubbling about, filling the air with lifesaving steam. She looked at her daughter who was now leaning weakly against her and saw a green streak of mucus run down her nose to her mouth. Jenny didn’t seem to be aware of it, but Daisy could scarcely stand the sight; she held her daughter against her with one hand and felt around in the pocket of her robe with the other for a Kleenex. She was so awkward with her swollen tummy that she nearly fell into the steaming tub, but she recovered, and pulled out a Kleenex, used but still usable. She wiped Jenny’s nose, and kissed the top of her head. As she kissed her, Jenny began to cough, a painful violent cough that shook her entire body. Daisy’s heart exploded within her; she was mad with fear, afraid that Jenny was dying. Jenny choked; her face went scarlet; she gagged and retched; and then she vomited. She leaned forward, retching, and the vomit, thick with mucus, shot into the hot water in the bathtub.

“Mommy!” Jenny screamed.

“That’s
good,
Jenny, that’s good, it’s helping you,” Daisy said, but she was sobbing now, too, and clutching Jenny almost helplessly. “That’s
good,
it’s
all right,
” Daisy called out. Jenny screamed again in fear; her body shuddered; she vomited again. Daisy held Jenny by the shoulders, tears streaming down her face; and Jenny vomited again, and again.

And then it stopped. Jenny fell back against Daisy’s breasts, panting. The honking noise had gone away.

Daisy held Jenny firmly with one arm, and with the other reached out and grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped Jenny’s mouth and chin. Then she managed to reach the sink, to fill Jenny’s plastic Mickey Mouse cup with cool water. She put it to Jenny’s lips.

“Drink this, Jenny love, it will make your mouth feel better,” she said. Jenny sipped at it obediently, then pushed it away. Her face was white with exhaustion. But she was breathing almost evenly, and the honking noise had stopped.

“Mommy,” Jenny said after long moments, “I’m tired.”

Daisy turned off the hot-water tap; the water was growing cooler, but the room was still steamy.

“We’ll get you back to bed soon,” Daisy said, softly stroking her daughter. “Just a few minutes more. See how the steam is helping? Don’t you feel better?”

In answer, Jenny closed her eyes. Her body sagged heavily against Daisy. She breathed noisily, laboriously, but evenly.

“Jenny,” Daisy said, “I want you to sit right here on this soft bath mat. I’m going to go fill the vaporizer again. You wait here.” She arranged her daughter’s limp exhausted body against the bathtub, inside the shower curtain, her head against the white porcelain of the tub, close to the steam. Then she went out of the bathroom and got the vaporizer and filled it. She ran down into the family room and got the vaporizer she had had going that evening while they watched television, and filled that and got it going in the bedroom, too. She put an extra teaspoon of baking soda in to make the steam come faster. When she plugged it in, it nearly exploded with steam, and sputtered so much that she had to put a towel under it. But the room quickly became dense with warm moisture again, and Daisy brought Jenny back to bed. She gave her more medicine. She propped her against pillows, covered her with blankets, and sat staring, as Jenny fell helplessly into sleep. Her breathing was almost normal. It continued evenly, in and out, with no trace of the honking or rasping noise.

Daisy began to shake. Now fear and the lack of sleep hit her in the head and stomach; she hurried from the bedroom down the hall to the bath. The air of the hall was startlingly cooler and drier than the bedroom and bathroom; she felt as though she were hurrying through an icy tunnel. In the bathroom she leaned on the sink, wanting to retch, but nothing happened. Her stomach churned, she shook, but she could manage no relief.

“Oh,
Paul,
” Daisy cried. “Oh,
someone
. Please help me.” But there was nothing, only silence and the feel of cold porcelain on her hands.

Finally she straightened and took a sip of cold water. That seemed to help. She went into Danny’s bedroom and saw him sleeping easily, and she tucked his covers about him, and that helped, too. She went back down the hall to sit with Jenny.

Jenny was totally asleep, pale and small, breathing quietly and evenly. Daisy sat on the edge of her bed, watching. She sagged with exhaustion, but still could not feel sure enough of Jenny’s breathing to truly relax. Light was beginning to glimmer around the edges of the window shades; morning had come. Daisy thought of Paul, lying asleep in bed with his lover, thought of the breakfast they would have together, graceful and serene. For a moment she longed to call him, just to share the worry, to say, “Jenny is so sick, and I can’t bear it alone.” But she knew calling him would not help, and would only irritate him. He would think Daisy was inventing it or exaggerating it simply to call him. They—Paul and Monica—would think she was a harpy, a spurned woman turned bitter and vexatious. No, she would not bother Paul; and what could he do anyway? He could come over and stare at Jenny, now asleep, but then he would go off to work, he had never lost a day’s work before because of a sick child, so he certainly wouldn’t now. No, he would not be of any help.

But Daisy longed for someone. She wanted to be held, comforted, praised for getting Jenny through the night. She wanted someone to say, “I’ll watch Jenny for a while; you go on to bed and get some sleep.” But who could do it? No one. Her mother, her sister, were miles away. Her friends all had families of their own, and could not come over; Daisy would not ask it of them. Also she somehow felt that it was necessary that she, Daisy, be the one there at her daughter’s side, as if only through Daisy’s diligence and concern could Jenny’s life be saved. Looking down at her daughter, sleeping so innocently and easily now, Daisy felt at once achingly tired and profoundly glad. She had taken Jenny through the dark night and brought her out alive to a new day. She felt Jenny’s forehead: the fever had gone. Instinctively she knew that although there had been steam and antibiotics, it had been the power of her spirit, of her love, which was the real vital force that saved Jenny, that had fought back the spirit of Death from the room. She remembered her own mother’s constant generous care during the times she or Dale or their father was ill; she remembered the feel of a cool hand on her forehead, the feel of someone strong and good standing next to her bed, guarding her, willing health back into her body. Now it was her turn to tend to her children, and she did not begrudge the need or the work. It seemed almost an honor to be able to do it, as if invited to join an ancient ritual of magic. So she was glad. But she was so tired. And so alone.

Daisy sat on her daughter’s bed, watching her, until seven-thirty, when she heard Danny stirring in his room. She woke Jenny to give her more medicine, and Jenny took it, still more than half asleep, and fell back against her pillow. Her breathing seemed almost normal. Daisy went out into the hall to see Danny. She cuddled with him in his bed for a moment, almost overcome with the need to let go of her consciousness and to sleep, then she managed to get up, to help him dress, to fix him breakfast. She was not hungry, nothing appealed to her; she drank black coffee, hoping it would keep her awake.

At eight o’clock she turned on the television, and there was Captain Kangaroo in his red coat at a marina with performing dolphins. Daisy stared, entranced. She was amazed to realize that the whole world was out there: Captain Kangaroo, obliging dolphins, laughing children, cameramen. All around the world women were fixing breakfast, children were worrying about tests in school, old people were putting in false teeth, dogs were whining to be let out on the lawn; all over the world people were awake, walking, eating, driving cars, listening to radios, gargling, slamming doors and calling goodbye. It was marvelous, marvelous, and overwhelming to consider.

Yes, Daisy thought, watching a gray dolphin jump and titter, all that is out there, and yet sick children were out there, too, with mothers and fathers riveted to the bedside, sick with fear and hope, with the entire marvelous world shrunk to the size of one closed and steamy room.

“Danny,” she said, “I’ve got to go check on Jenny awhile. You’ll have to be a very good, quiet boy today. Jenny is very sick, she was sick all night, and I’m very tired. I’ll tell you what, you can watch television all morning today.”

“Any program I want?” Danny asked.

“Anything,” Daisy said. She turned and went back up the stairs to Jenny’s room. Jenny was sleeping peacefully.

The day went on. Daisy drank coffee and gave Jenny medicine and managed to get her to drink a bottle of apple juice. Danny went to preschool, came home again. Jenny felt good enough in the late afternoon to sit down in the family room and watch cartoons. Daisy moved about like an automaton with a few blown fuses, doing this and that, the necessary things. She did not change out of her robe and gown all day. She called no one; isolation crowded around herself and her house like a mist.

By six in the evening, she could hardly move, she was so tired, so deathly tired. Jenny had revived, was breathing easily, had good color, and wanted to move around, but Daisy would not let her. She longed and longed for the bedtime hour to come. She felt constantly nauseated; it hurt to walk, to talk, to smile. Finally she got the children into bed, finally they fell asleep. Daisy fed the cat and washed up the dishes from Danny’s dinner and made a brief attempt to tidy the family room, but soon gave up. She was too tired, too tired. At nine o’clock she checked both children, then curled up in her nest on Jenny’s floor, with both vaporizers hissing away, and fell into a deep sleep.

Danny woke her at midnight, crying. He was vomiting. Daisy pulled herself up off the floor with weak arms, and after glancing quickly at Jenny—she was breathing normally—r
ushed out to help Danny. She carried him to the bathroom (how
heavy
he was) and he threw up on her robe as she did. He threw up on the bath mat and finally into the toilet. He cried as he vomited. Daisy felt his head; he was warm, but not terribly hot. She stripped off her smelly robe and Danny’s sticky pajamas, dressed her son in clean pajamas, ran down to the kitchen to get him a glass of 7-Up, carried him into the bedroom and sat him on the floor while she changed his sheets and cleaned up the mess on the carpet, got Danny back into bed with a towel spread over his pillows and another over his sheets and blankets. He whined nastily when she wanted to put a thermometer in his mouth, he said he felt just fine, he just wanted to go back to sleep. Daisy felt his forehead, then left him alone. She went into her bedroom and dug out an old robe that would not close over her stomach but which still kept her arms and back warm. She checked Danny again, piled the smelly clothes into one heap in the bathroom, then stumbled down the stairs to get the pink antibiotic medicine for Jenny out of the refrigerator. She climbed the stairs, gave her sleepy daughter the medicine, then shuffled back down the stairs to put the medicine away. Climbing the stairs again, she nearly cried with fatigue. She filled the vaporizers, then fell into her nest in Jenny’s room and slept.