Sanctity of Space
As this book winds to a conclusion, I find myself quoting yet another Democrat. Adlai Stevenson, former presidential hopeful and UN ambassador, advised, "What counts now is not just what we are against, but what we are for. Who leads us is less important than what leads us – what convictions, what courage, what faith – win or lose."
Good leaders must have those qualities. They must have conviction in what they say. They must have the courage to say it. And they must have faith that everything will turn out right. Everyone has these qualities, but does that mean that everyone would make a good president, or even a good leader? Not necessarily.
Although political pundits may pretend to have insight into the results of elections or who will run, at the best of times they can do nothing more than offer educated guesses. The beauty of democracy is that the people choose who their leaders will be. No other system can boast that. Dictatorships allow no room for change without a coup. Monarchies follow a line of succession, hoping that genetics will provide good rulers. Only in democracy are leaders allowed to rise naturally, like cream on so much milk.
Any American-born child can dream of being president and know that it lies within the realm of possibility. Although in the history of this great country only white males have occupied the Oval Office, they are not the only demographic that can be good leaders. It is only a matter of time until that is changed. It is impossible to tell when our first Jewish president will be elected. Or our first African American president. Or our first female president.
What will happen in the future is beyond the reach of anyone's understanding and within the scope of anyone's imagination. The people waiting to be those firsts are out there, in our future somewhere, but it is impossible to tell what events will lead them to the White House. And it is equally impossible to tell when they will arrive there.
Jack emerged slowly from the room, wanting to be nowhere but at his wife's side, but unable to do even that simple thing for her. He sank down against the wall across the hall, using its stolidity to support himself because he didn't trust his shaking legs. In an unconscious imitation of a gesture he had seen Alex make a million times, he lowered his head down to hide his face in his hands.
He could still hear voices floating out from the room that he had just left, but he couldn't make out the words. There was the bass rumble of the doctors; the tenors and the altos were the nurses. The harmony was imperfect, incomplete. The one voice that he was listening for above all in the chorus of electric monitors and barked orders had fallen silent.
Footsteps were rushing down the hall toward the room: the low thrum of the rubber-soled shoes of the hospital personnel, and then a sharp counter-point rhythm picked out by a woman's heels. "Oh, God." Her voice was a flute-like trill over the main theme, over the frantic race that was going on in the next room. "Jack, we came as soon as we heard. What happened?"
With a whisper-quiet rustle of silk, Donna sank down to her knees before him, any thoughts she may have had for her expensive evening gown long forgotten. Behind her, beating out other competing tempos, came the sound of other footfalls. Jack lifted his head to see them hurrying toward him: Sarah, her hair in utter disarray and a coat through on hastily over her pyjamas; Mark, his coat and tie abandoned and forgotten, his security badge still strung around his neck; Josh, formal in his tails, his hand pressed to his side, not pausing to catch his breath.
Over the turmoil in the room across the hall, Jack could still hear the distinct staccato rhythms of the monitors, providing assurance that life still continued within. "Her heart rate dropped," Jack explained simply, the tones of his voice falling flat. "They don't know why."
"Is she…" someone breathed, not daring to finish the question lest they find the answer to be yes.
He shook his head, ears straining to hear through the walls. Gathered around him, the rest fell into silence, listening to the harsh brass of the directives, the low plaintive bass running beneath, and, most of all, the harsh percussion that assured them hope still remained.
Jack leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes lifted toward the ceiling. His lips moved in silent prayer. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…"
There was a pause in the turmoil from the other room. Then out of the stillness came a high soprano cry. The five waited with held breath as the first forte faded to a gentle pianissimo and was lost beneath the continuing bustle. A blonde nurse peeked her head around the corner of the doorway. "Mr McCosham," she said softly, "congratulations. You have a beautiful daughter."
He stared at her, not daring to ask. The nurse didn't answer; she just disappeared back into the room. Jack dropped his head back into his hands for a moment, resuming his silent wait. Donna reached out to rest her hands on his shoulders. As she did, Jack lifted his head again, turning his unseeing eyes upward to resume his voiceless prayer. "Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now…"
It seemed like an eternity later when from inside the room came another cry, carrying above the other sounds and spilling out into the hall where they were waiting. One by one, their heads turned to face the door, waiting expectantly. The same nurse rounded the corner again after a heart stopping moment. "Mr McCosham," she said gently, a tired smile stretching across her face, "would it be okay to bring your daughters out to meet you?"
"My daughters?" he repeated hoarsely, pushing himself to a standing position. The others stood back, wonder competing with worry on their faces.
Other nurses were already wheeling the bassinets out of the small operating suite. Jack stood and looked at them in awe. They were perfect. He could see their tiny fingers curl and flex. Dark curls, so like their mother's, peeked from beneath the tightly wrapped blankets. Jack reached out to trail his fingers along the clear plastic, not yet reaching out to touch them.
There was something he had to know first. "My wife?" he whispered. She had sent him away from her. When things had started the downward spiral, she had sent him away, not wanting him to see, trying to spare him images that would have been forever burned on his mind.
"The doctors are stabilizing her now," one of the nurses reassured him. "She gave us all quite a scare but she's going to be fine."
Hesitantly, Jack finally permitted himself to reach out and stroke the velvet of their cheeks, wondering at the miracle of it all. "My daughters," he said again proudly. Donna stepped forward to put on hand on his shoulder. "Aren't they beautiful?" he asked in awe, turning to look at the friends who had rushed to them.
"Gorgeous," Josh agreed.
The doctor stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile on his face. He permitted himself a moment just to watch before he spoke. "Mr McCosham, they're taking your wife out through the other doors and back to her room."
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"Congratulations."
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"Mazel tov," Mark added, peering over Sarah's shoulder at one of the tiny infants.
"Have you thought of names yet?" Donna inquired, gently rocking the baby in her arms.
"We could agree on boys names," Jack answered, smoothing the hair back from Alex's pale face. "But nothing for girls."
"You mean that you were so sure they were going to be boys that you refused to discuss girls names," she retorted weakly. Her exhausted smile stretched from ear to ear.
"That may have been the case," Jack admitted. "But I had a fifty-fifty chance of being right."
"You also had a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong," Sarah pointed out.
"I prefer not to think about it that way," Jack responded, looking around the room at everyone. Well, at least he looked around at everyone who had been within a close enough radius to drop everything they were doing when they had heard things weren't going well.
Suddenly, he wondered how people knew that things had nearly gone so wrong. Since leaving their apartment early that morning, he had only made one call and that had been to her parents back in Rhode Island. "How did you find out to come anyway?" he asked in confusion.
"A good reporter never reveals their sources," Sarah offered hesitantly, hoping that he wouldn't be angry with her.
"Sarah?" Jack said, mock-threateningly.
"One of my friends is a nurse here," she answered quickly. "She was just getting off when things really started to happen. She knew we were friends and called to let me know."
"Sarah called the rest of us," Josh continued, stepping forward. "I said that we'd meet her here."
"I'm glad that she did," Jack admitted. "Because now you can all help me make the rest of the phone calls I'm going to have to make." He bent down to kiss Alex's forehead. "Get some sleep; you look like you need it."
"Thanks, Jack," she replied, letting her eyes flutter closed. "You're always so tactful. And that's exactly why I married you."
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"And here I thought it was all in the eyes."
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"Nope," Sam responded. "The eyes can change colours. Have you ever really looked at a newborn's eyes? They're all blue."
"Sam," Josh answered, "you're a freak. You've never been married. How do you know this?"
"You know, reading things."
"Reading what things? I'm pretty sure in the lifetime that I've been reading things that the colour of a newborn's eyes has never come up. Not once."
"Things," Sam provided. "I don't know what things. It was just in one of them."
"You really are a freak. You do know that, right?"
Sam sighed. "So Alex is going to be okay?"
"They're keeping her under observation for the next two or three days. She was running a fever and the doctors think that it was a combination of that and an allergic reaction to the drugs they were giving her."
"Tell them congratulations and that I'm sorry I couldn't be there."
"I will."
"I'll send their baby gifts in the mail now that I know whether to buy something for a boy or a girl."
"Sure. Anyway, I should probably get going. We both have work to do in the morning."
"Yeah," Sam replied. "Thanks for calling and letting me know."
"You're welcome. I'm sure that Jack and Alex will be calling you sometime soon."
"Yeah. Talk to you later."
"Later," Josh answered. He paused for a second. "Sam?"
"I thought we were hanging up and I was going back to sleep."
"You already bought presents for both boys and girls, didn't you?"
Sam hesitated before answering. "Yeah."