Chapter Eleven: Going Home

Three days later Dr. Castillo was ready to discharge me. Greg, still at the Radisson, offered to take me in. I declined. Blue Eyes had been silent throughout all of the family harangues (my parents were informed, although their survival method was to deny any grandchild until they were forced to face her), but negotiations to move me brought him to life.

"I would agree the Radisson is a viable alternative, but the Alabama attorney is only staying through the New Year, which would just mean another move. Staying with me is the best solution," he began his lecture.

"Blue Eyes, I don't think we are capable of cohabiting."

"One way to find out." He hesitated. "Look, you can come here with me every day and visit with Zelda. You have your laptop, so you can work on whatever the he!! it is you do."

"Whatever I do?" I asked, incensed. "I'm finishing an article on an English play, Butley, whose title character is a miserable misanthrope who loses his estranged wife and his best friend in the same day. Originally, as witty and macabre as it is, I thought it could only be English. Now, however, I've reconsidered, and I can very well see it as an American play. With an American main character. Wonder what ever made me change my mind?"

"Don't you mean 'who'?"

I stopped. "What?"

"Not what – who. Who made you change your mind."

"You did, you asshole."

Blue Eyes shook his head. "That's what I said."

I started flapping my hands in frustration, but he caught my wrist and pulled himself over to me. "Now, Mommy, play nice. And I expect you to pay half the rent since you're actually employed."

It was my turn to shake my head. "It will never work. We'll end up killing each other."

"Nobody said you couldn't use the time to find a more suitable apartment."

I wrenched my arm from his grasp, but before I could smack him he leaned over and kissed me sweetly on the lips. "Greg has had most of your stuff put in storage, but he'll bring your clothes and other personal things to my place as soon as we tell him."

"You've turned him against me," I accused.

"Be serious," he scolded.

They had me outnumbered.

As I was preparing to leave, a nurse brought me Zelda's birth certificate to complete. I wrote her name in the proper space and glanced through the information, noting Dr. Gregory House was listed as attending physician, but my vision blurred when I saw the name of the father. James E. Wilson! I screamed for a nurse and sent her to find Blue Eyes immediately. By the time he limped through the doorway, my blood pressure was at stroke level.

"Jim is Zelda's father!" I yelled.

"He is? You had sex with Wilson? Why am I the last to know?"

I grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and jerked him to within inches of me. "Change it."

"Now, Mommy, don't be hasty. Wilson would be a great father – he has plenty of money and he's very generous with it. Just ask any of his ex-wives."

"Why, in heaven's name, would you list him as the father? I thought you were best friends."

"We are," he answered. "And that's precisely why I put him down. He's so responsible."

I tugged on his shirt, nearly knocking him over. "Change it. I am not playing. Change it now."

He made a clucking noise he intended to be soothing; however, I was not to be soothed. "Listen," he started in a gentle voice, "if you list the real father, you give him access to Zelda, which I know you don't want to do. If you list the father as unknown, you leave open the possibility the rapist will somehow learn about Zelda and demand a paternity test. With a father listed, the chance of interference from a violent psychopath is greatly reduced."

"If you insist on giving her a father, then list your own damm self. Not Wilson. Do you hear me? Not Wilson." My face was hot with fury.

Blue Eyes held up his hands. "I'll remove Wilson's name. Okay?"

"Now," I ordered.

"Then unclench my f#cking shirt, Mommy."

I tugged on his shirt. "I'm from Alabama. It's 'Mama.'"

He placed his hands over mine. "Then unclench my f#cking shirt, Mama."

"Oh, sorry," I said, releasing his mangled shirt.

"Come on, let's go check on Zelda."

We went, hand-in-hand, to the NICU. I leaned against him as we stared at the tiny girl. She was sleeping peacefully. Blue Eyes fetched a chair for me; I settled down, and he released her from her incubated prison and placed her in my arms. She wiggled a bit, then relaxed back into slumber. She smacked her lips. Blue Eyes stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. I leaned my head back against him and looked up into his light blue eyes. He stooped over and rested his chin on the top of my head.

"She's going to be okay?" I asked.

"Of course, Mama."

"She's pretty? I was never pretty. But she's pretty, isn't she?"

He placed his lips on my forehead. "She's beautiful, just like her mama."

"Shut up."

"The truth hurts," he smirked.

We stayed that way in a hushed tableau until Blue Eyes' leg began to bother him. I sensed him fidgeting.

"You're hurting," I stated.

"My drugs are in my jacket."

I reached up with my right hand and grasped his hand on my shoulder.

"It's time to go," I reluctantly admitted.

He took Zelda from me and positioned her back in her prison. "Do you feel like walking back to your room?"

I let him help me from the chair. "Do we need to call Greg before we get to your apartment?"

He shook his head as we walked through the hallways. "He's out with Cameron. Why don't we pack up your breast pump and go home?"

Leaving the hospital was bittersweet: I left Zelda there. I knew I would see her the next morning, but, still, I felt bereft walking away from what she knew as home. Besides, entering Blue Eyes' apartment and its overwhelming maleness made me feel like an alien in an oxygen-free atmosphere.

"There's only one bedroom, Tiger. You willing to share?" Blue Eyes asked me.

"Does Greg know you've taken me home with you?"

He paused while directing me to his bedroom. "Do I need to ask his permission?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea, Blue Eyes."

"Sh!t! I was hoping to spirit you away without the moral minority's interference," he said sarcastically.

"What is he doing with Allison? They're not . . ."

He grinned evilly. "They are indeed."

"Well, sh!t."

"Apparently, I wasn't the only cripple she found sexually desirable."

I slapped his arm. "Quit gloating."

"Can I help it if hot young women want me?"

I rolled my eyes at him in a dramatic fashion. "Be careful where you step; it's getting a little deep in here."

The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and blankets. I looked at it, then I looked at Blue Eyes.

"I have to sleep in this?"

"You don't have to. You can sleep on the couch."

I sighed. I took my gym bag from him and rooted through it to find a clean t-shirt. He stood, impassive, watching me. Finally, I said, "I'm going to go to bed. Are you going to watch me while I change?"

He sat on the bed and replied, heartily, "Yep."

I walked around the bed and into the bathroom where I slipped on my Steely Dan t-shirt and a clean pair of sweat pants. When I reentered the bedroom, Blue Eyes had disappeared. I straightened the bed and wiggled onto one side. The silence was broken by a piano. I smiled to myself as I drifted off.

I woke up from a disturbing dream filled with dark figures and sensations of impending harm. The room was completely lightless. I stumbled out of the bed and felt my way into the hall and, then, the living room. A light from the kitchen illuminated Blue Eyes awkwardly nestled on the couch. I sat on the floor beside his head. In sleep, his face was unlined and peaceful. Serene. I ran my finger around the outline of his lips; his nose twitched. His hand automatically rubbed across his mouth as if relieving an itch.

"Blue Eyes," I whispered.

He swatted around his nose like he was chasing gnats.

I leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Huh?" he grumbled as his eyes flickered open. "Wha?"

"My articulate roommate," I teased.

His peaceful face brightened with a genuine grin. "Tiger," he purred. He extended his hand to weave his fingers through my hair. "What are you doing up? Did I wake you?"

"Yes, in fact, you did. Your thoughtless absence from the bed woke me out of a sound sleep."

"You missed me?" he queried.

I nodded.

He took my hand and pulled me to my feet and back into the bedroom. We snuggled together, him curled around me, my nightmares dispelled by the warmth of his arms. As I was falling asleep again, I heard him whisper, "Good night, Tiger."

I was with Zelda when Greg knocked on the nursery window and beckoned to me. I put my daughter back into her controlled habitant and met Greg in the hall.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"Good." I examined him surreptitiously, searching for hickeys or fang marks. "And how are you?"

He grinned an insanely giddy grin. His youth and handsomeness made my heart stutter. "I'm just perfect. Perfect."

I started slapping him on his arms. "You bastard," I fumed. "You go off with that horny infant and leave me to fend for myself. Where the he!! did you think I was going to go when they kicked me out, huh?"

He held his arms up to deflect my powerless blows. "Hold on, Cissy. Your doctor told me he had everything taken care of. He insisted you wanted to move in with him. He told me, however, you were uneasy about breaking it to me and that I should amuse myself elsewhere while he eased you out of here and into his place. Not true?"

I balled my right hand into a fist and whacked his arm as hard as I could manage. "You moron. Since when do you believe him?"

"Jesus, that hurt!" he winced. "He's f#cking in love with you. Why shouldn't I believe him?"

"He said that?" I cried.

"No. What? No, but he didn't have to. He's much easier to read than he knows."

I threw up my arms in disgust. "So you're blaming him for your rendezvous with Allison?"

"More like I should thank him."

"You are nothing but a bundle of hormones."

"Cissy, are you finished hitting me?"

"When are you leaving?"

He visibly relaxed. "To go back to Virginia? The day after New Year's. But you know I'm always available for you. And for that scrawny daughter you have."

"So, this thing with Allison is just a temporary thing?"

"What, like I'm killing time? Come on, Cissy, you know me better than that. I like her. She's smart. She's sweet. Now, since I've answered your questions, why don't you tell me about you and the biped?"

"Bite me."

Greg laughed. "But you are living with him?"

"It's temporary."

"Just killing time?" he snickered.

"Greg, what makes you say Blue Eyes is in love with me?"

"Damm, Cissy, does the man have to hire a skywriter? He moved you in with him. This guy doesn't flit around extending such invitations to every new mother he treats. Don't you get it?"

"Greg, he just feels sorry for me. About the rape."

"For a very smart woman, you are acting incredibly dense. If he pities you he gives you a prescription for some really fun meds. He doesn't take you home. Has it occurred to you to talk to him? With, let's say, words?"

I looked over Greg's head and into the nursery where Zelda was sleeping. "You may have a point, little brother. I do need to talk to him." I needed to talk to him about the rape. I couldn't tell Greg I had realized who the rapist was, but I could tell Blue Eyes. And, odd though it felt, I wanted to tell him about it. I wanted to confide in him, the man who had callously revealed my past at every inappropriate opportunity.

Greg and I traveled down to Blue Eyes' office so we could persuade him to have lunch with us. We heard the heated exchange before we reached the door to the conference room. I was going to presumptuously barge right in, but Greg caught my arm and held me back.

"You end things with me because I had the audacity to fall in love with you, but you take up with the very next guy you meet. Can you explain this to me?" an Australian accent demanded.

"Why are you so upset? You weren't happy with our arrangement, so what gives you the authority to criticize me when I find someone else to meet my sexual needs?"

I didn't recognize the female voice, but because Greg's grip on my arm increased until I thought my hand would turn blue, I assumed it was Allison.

"So this Greg is just a plaything? Just another substitute for your fixation with House?"

"I've told you, I'm over House," she said in an exasperated but uninspired voice.

My protective feelings for Greg flooded my body, and I strode angrily into the room and the conversation with a head full of hateful comments.

"My brother is your plaything? You b!tch!" I slapped her squarely across the face.

Dr. Chase grabbed me, shoving me away from Allison. Greg rolled in and began apologizing.

"Allison, are you okay? I'm sorry for Cissy – she's hormonal."

"I'm not hormonal; I'm outraged she could be so callous." Dr. Chase was still holding my arms and blocking me from Allison, who was holding her cheek and crying.

"Audra, you walked in on a private conversation," Dr. Chase warned me in a controlled voice. "You have no business interfering. If Allison and Greg need to sort out their, uh, arrangement, they can do it without any help from us."

"But . . ." I stammered.

I felt a familiar hand around my elbow, unrelentingly pulling me around. Blue Eyes stared at me with angry eyes. "Tiger, you need to leave."

"Oh, this is just the kind of thing you live for. You don't care who gets hurt as long as the women all revere you."

He jerked me into the doorway. "Shut up," he snarled.

Maybe I was hormonal. Or tired. Or bordering on insanity. Tears uncontrollably poured down my face. "Let go of my arm. I need to leave."

Blue Eyes released me and I fled the scene as quickly as I could. Without thinking, I found myself on the roof. The sky was heavy with unfallen snow, and the wind cut through my light jacket as if nonexistent. I welcomed the sting of the freezing temperature on my bare face. The discomfort was deserved. I embarrassed my sweet brother. I embarrassed Blue Eyes. I was losing my ability to function outside the confines of the NICU.

I didn't know how long I had been standing, shivering, looking out across the hospital grounds, when I heard the approach of a man. A man without a cane.

"I've always had a weakness for women who defend their men, even if they didn't need to," the soft voice said.

I turned my head away. "I'm such an ass, Jim. I'm worse than Blue Eyes."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't claim that crown just yet."

I looked at him. "I know I've done nothing but impose on you, but I need to get out of here. I rode in this morning with Blue Eyes; is there any chance you could give me a lift to his apartment? I need to get away from here."

"Running away from this won't resolve anything," he began, but when he saw my pale, tear streaked face, he held out his arms in a gesture of surrender. "I don't have an appointment for another hour. Come on." He led me down the stairs and out to his car.

My teeth were all but grinding on the drive. Jim remained silent, although I felt his eyes assessing me. When we reached the apartment, I stopped Jim from getting out. "Jim, you've been a great friend, but I need to take care of some things on my own. I hope you understand."

He nodded reluctantly. "Audra, I've known House for a long time. Don't be hasty."

"I appreciate your kindness," I answered. I leaned over and kissed Jim's cheek and exited his car.

I stomped around the apartment, gathering the few things I had there. Greg was driving my truck, so I called a cab and poised on the edge of the sofa, waiting. My cell phone rang, and I automatically answered it without thinking.

"Tiger, Zelda's in respiratory distress. Her lungs . . . "

"I'm on my way," I interrupted him.

I had the cab ferry me back to the hospital.

Blue Eyes told me, when I reached the NICU, they had been administering low doses of inhaled nitric oxide to help prevent her developing bronchopulmonary dysplasia; BPD, he told me, was associated with increased risk of ongoing lung problems such as pulmonary hypertension (high blood pressure in the arteries that supply blood to the lungs), sensitivities to secondhand smoke, asthma, and respiratory infections; neurodevelopmental problems such as cerebral palsy; learning disabilities; impaired growth; and cardiovascular problems. However, for an unknown reason, Zelda had not reacted favorably to the iNO and was not only back on the ventilator, but was being put on a heart-lung machine.

Blue Eyes was grim as he explained, "The use of the heart-lung machine increases her risk of long-term complications."

"I can deal with long-term complications," I replied. "What I can't deal with is losing her." I watched, impotent, as the doctors and nursed fussed over Zelda.

Blue Eyes continued supplying medical information. "They're administering surfactant with an endotracheal tube. It will coat the inside of the alveoli, preventing collapse and keeping the alveoli open even after the treatment. Hopefully, this will get her breathing back to a manageable standard so we won't have to continue the heart-lung machine."

"Just make sure they fix her," I uttered, tight-lipped, and retreated to the mother's lounge to express milk. Seeing Zelda so endangered had immediately triggered the let-down reflex.

B.E. bulled his way into the lounge after me. "You understand the dangers, right?" he demanded.

I was using a hand pump and continued, ignoring his intrusion. "Of course. Does she have an infection?"

"Not that has shown up yet, although her temp is rising."

"Leave me alone," I responded while I pumped away.

"Tiger," he whispered.

"Leave me alone, now, Blue Eyes."

He limped out making a muttering, guttural, incomprehensible complaint.

I didn't leave the hospital the two days Zelda was at her most vulnerable, sleeping briefly on a couch in the waiting room when I could. Greg stayed with me most of the time, but we maintained a necessary silence. Blue Eyes was wherever he was, with Zelda and her care team when he thought it was necessary and somewhere else when he didn't think his presence was required. For two days I kept my own counsel. During my darkest moments, I saw my daughter, my brother, and, well, Blue Eyes, slipping away from me. Talking was not a good idea for me and my diarrhetic mouth. Every moment my only goal was not to cry.