Out of Grief (16 page)

Quinn studied her. “She does, doesn’t she?”

It was a long shot, but I still felt the need to ask. “Do you want me to call your mother?”

“No. But I do want you to call yours, and your father, too.”

“You’re sure?”

“About my mom? Yes. And about your parents? Absolutely.”

***

At last we were settled in the hospital room, and things had calmed down. My parents had finally gone home after sufficiently ‘ooing’ and ‘ahhing’ over the baby. The nurse brought me a blanket to spend the night on a chair that conveniently turned into a bed.

“We haven’t picked a name,” Quinn said.

I looked at our little angel—her hair so light and fine, and her eyes blue like the sky on a bright day. I hoped they would stay blue, like Quinn’s. “She’s amazing,” I whispered.

“I don’t think we can call her amazing,” Quinn teased.

I sat on the side of the bed, so I could lean against Quinn and we could both stare at her, while I slid my arm under Quinn’s. “You did good.” I kissed Quinn, and watched her eyes light up.

“I still like Sofia,” Quinn said.

“You’re just trying to suck up to your mother-in-law.”

“Am not. I just like the name.”

I had to admit I liked it to. But the last thing I needed was for my mother to get a big head. “No other contenders? I thought Xena was still on the table?”

“We are not naming her after a warrior princess.”

“Are you sure? My mother has been known to kick some ass in her day.”

“Stop.” Quinn laughed. “There aren’t any that I like as much as Sofia.”

It was hard to argue with a woman that just pushed a new life into the world. Who would tell someone no, after they had endured that agony? It wasn’t going to be me. “Okay. That’s you, squirt. Sofia. What do you think?” And that’s how it started, talking to a baby that couldn’t answer back—a habit I would become familiar with.

“When are they coming to show you how to feed her?” I asked Quinn. Instead of answering, Quinn just grasped my arm as she tried to catch her breath. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I … I … don’t know.”

I held Sofia against me and raced out into the hall to grab a nurse. I could hear Quinn’s breathing rapidly becoming worse.

The nurse who brought me the blanket rushed in and asked me to wait outside.

“But, I…”

She grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eye. “Please, don’t argue.” Then she called Code Blue and started CPR.

There was a rush of hospital staff and Quinn was raced to the ICU. I was told to stay put, out of their way.

Sofia began to cry. Not that I blamed her. I tried to soothe her, holding her closer, and kissing her forehead. Babies sense how you’re feeling, and despite my best intentions, my heart was racing and I was terrified. But I managed to calm my breathing, and focus on Sofia. I bounced her, as I paced, and told her over and over again that everything was going to be okay. As I silently prayed that I was right.

But when Caroline appeared, I knew with one look at her that nothing would ever be okay again.

“I am so sorry, Nikki.” Caroline placed her hand on my shoulder, and squeezed. “She had a pulmonary embolism. It’s something that happens from time to time, not something we can predict. Honestly, there wasn’t anything we could do.”

I felt my knees give out, and Caroline caught me, and eased me onto to the floor. My body shook, and I realized that Sofia was not the only one crying.

“I’m going to call your parents.” Caroline said, “I’ll have a nurse take the baby.”

“No.” I rocked Sofia against me, to soothe her, and me, the best I could. “I have her.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem, Nikki.”

“I need to see Quinn,” I managed to say.

“Nikki, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, right now.”

“I need to, Caroline. Please!”

“Then definitely, let me get a nurse to take the baby.”

“No.” I held on to Sofia with everything I had. “I have her.”

“Nikki, I really think…”

“No!”

“Okay.” She threw her hands up. “I’ll have Marsha take you to see her. I’ll have your parents meet you there.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Caroline had taken great care to have them cover Quinn’s body, but a coating of crimson over her abdomen lingered on the sheets. Her skin was ashen from the loss of blood. I brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead, and realized she was still warm to the touch. Her brilliant blue eyes were no longer the color of a gentle ocean, instead they were
muddy like a storm had just passed, and worse than that—they were lifeless. I wondered what the last thing she saw was. Not my face, as it should have been. I reached down and closed them. Kissing each eyelid as I did.

There were streaks of water on her face, and I realized it was from my tears. “I can’t do this without you, Quinn. Please don’t make me.” I kissed her lips, hoping that all of this would be a horrible nightmare, made better by the touch of my lips. But this wasn’t a fucking fairytale, and there would be no happy ending.

“She’s really gone.” I heard myself say the words aloud, as if it would give them weight, and make them real. Then I said to Sofia, “I’m sorry, Sofia, you won’t get to know her. She was wonderful. The best friend anyone could ever ask for. You look just like her, though.” I held her tight against me, and rocked her. She was so tiny, and all that I had left of Quinn. This couldn’t be happening.

“It’s just you and me now.” I wiped my tears on my sleeve, while I balanced Sofia in one hand.

There was a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry to have to ask this. But do you know where you might want the body taken?” Marsha asked.

All those talks that we had after Stephen died were going to be useful. Only I wanted nothing more than to not have to use that information now. “She didn’t want all the hoopla. She wanted to be cremated.”

Sofia started squirming. “What’s wrong, baby?” I asked. “Do you think she’s hungry?” I asked Marsha. Quinn had been so excited to breast feed after reading all the articles about passing on her immunities to the baby. Sofia wouldn’t have that now. Would that make her weaker? More susceptible to disease?
Fuck!
“What am I going to do, if she’s hungry? I can’t breast feed her.”

“It’s okay,” Marsha said. “I can get you some formula. Would you like me to take her?”

“No. I don’t think so. I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Marsha said, gently. “I get it. But can I just help you for a second?” She picked up a clean sheet, and then helped me wrap Sofia into a makeshift sling. “That should help take some of the weight off your arms, until you can get a proper sling,” she said, as she tied a knot in the sheet to make sure it held.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll get some formula. Will you be okay?”

“Probably never again.”

“Of course.”

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“You did. But I get it.” She touched my arm. “It’s never easy.”

“So what happens now?”

“I’ll let Caroline know that you want to have her cremated, and she’ll get another doctor to sign the paperwork, and then I can get you a list of places.”

“Maleshka!” I heard my father before I even saw him, and then Sophia and I were engulfed in his arms. “I came as soon as Caroline called.”

“I’ll get that formula now,” Marsha said.

“Mama is on her way. I was on rounds.” My father kissed the top of my head and rocked us.

And the words that no child ever wants to say to their parents once they become an adult just flowed out of my mouth. “I don’t know what to do.”

My father took my face in his hands. “Your mother and I, we are here for whatever you need.”

“She wanted to be cremated. No viewing, none of that stuff. But she never said what she wanted me to do with the ashes.”

“We will figure it out.” And my father ushered me out of the room, making that the last time I ever laid eyes on Quinn.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Nikki, are you sure this is what Quinn wanted?” my father asked.

“We talked about it at length. Yes.”

“Well, the funeral home says we must work it out with her mother. They do not want to be a party to the drama.”

“Her mother doesn’t have anything to say about this. She wanted nothing to do with Quinn and me.”

“Death changes people, Nikki. Maybe she wants to make peace.”

“I doubt it. And If Mama wanted to be cremated, and they said you couldn’t do it, would you give in?”

“No.”

“Okay, then?”

“It might go a long way for you to let her see Sofia.”

“She basically kicked Quinn out, wanted nothing to do with her, and you want me to let her see Sofia?”

“Malyshka, we cannot choose our family.”

“Quinn is the one that didn’t want them at the wedding. She didn’t want them anywhere near the baby. I offered to call her mother. She said no. And she had adoption papers drawn up ready to sign. None of this would be an issue if she hadn’t…Goddamn it! It’s not fair!” I shouted.

Sofia started to cry. “Oh, Baby, I’m sorry.” I rocked her. “Mama’s sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” I kissed her forehead, took a deep breath and slowed my breathing. As I began to calm down, so did she.

“You know, Nikki, your mother would like to hold her grandchild, too.”

“And she will. Just not yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Nikita.” My mother’s voice traveled through the darkness. Then a hand was gently poking my shoulder. “Quinn’s mother is in the lobby, demanding to see you. Your father has gone down. She is making a scene.”

Like that would make me want to open my eyes, I thought. But I did, to find the concerned look on my mother’s face.

“Let me take Sofia, so you can get dressed.”

Sofia still slumbered against my breast, where the sling kept her snuggly in place. I took to sleeping in my father’s recliner, so that she could be with me. He had kindly moved it into my old bedroom. I watched my mother’s hands reach for her, and I slapped them away. “I got it.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, backing away. But the wounded look on my mother’s face was not lost on me.

“Mama, I didn’t mean—“

“There’s not time right now, Nikita. Get dressed.”

It’s not like I wasn’t dressed. My jeans were a bit battered, and my t-shirt could use a change, but I hadn’t put Sofia down long enough to change into much these past 35 hours. Besides the only thing that might be appropriate for a meeting like this would be a suit of armor, complete with a full line of weapons.

Sofia began to stir as I moved about, picking out a fresh t-shirt. I set her down on my bed and checked her diaper, which definitely needed changing. She was the softest human I had ever touched. Your hand could glide right over her skin, a fact that continued to amaze me. “Okay, pumpkin. We’re going to meet the evil grandmother now. But don’t worry, your Mommy didn’t get any of that poison in her system. She got all your grandfather’s goodness. Your grandmother is very angry with me right now—although she has no reason to be. Your Mama seemed very happy these past couple months to be with me and prepare for your arrival. If she was ever happier, I don’t think I was around to see it.” With the diaper in place, I put a fresh onesie on her. My mother had purchased it, along with a ton of other supplies. It said, in big block letters, “My Mommies love me.”

“I know she’s angry with me, because she thinks I led your Mama down the road to hell. But I can assure you, your Mama’s not in hell.” I tucked my t-shirt into my jeans and smiled at Sofia.

She cooed, and I kissed her forehead as I lifted her and secured her snugly back into the sling. “Okay, I’m sure your
dedushka
has tried to calm her down. Let’s hope his magic powers work on her.”

I could hear her voice as I left my room echo down the hallway.

“You people have another thing coming if you think that you’re going to take my Quinnie away from me.”

“Calm down, Cynthia. There’s no need to get excited. This is a difficult time for all of us. Nikita included.”

“The funeral director told me they were married. Did you know that, Dmitri?”

“Of course we knew. We were there.”

“Well, it was the first I’d heard of it. I wasn’t there. Was I?”

“Because she didn’t want you there,” I said as I entered the living room. “She said you would only spoil the day with your anger and disapproval.” I moved next to my father, who placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t believe any of this. I think you’re making it all up.”

“There are pictures, Cynthia. I will show them to you, if you wish,” my mother said as she placed a tray of tea on the coffee table. “Should I get them?”

“You were my friends. How could you have let such an abomination occur?”

My mother poured the tea. Her features were schooled, and for the first time, I realized that perhaps her level of control was something to be envied. “We will have to agree to disagree on that.” She placed a touch of milk in the tea, and handed the cup to Cynthia. “Now, if you would like to sit and discuss things in a civil manner, please have a seat, and enjoy the tea. I remember you seemed to like it.”