Chapter Twelve: Who Okayed the Guest List

Early morning on New Year's Eve, I was awakened on the uncomfortable waiting room sofa by the gentle hand of Dr. Chase. As I tried to right myself and clear my mind, he sat on the chair next to me.

"Zelda's breathing is much improved," he began in earnest. "We're removing the heart-lung machine. We're hoping she will be able to breathe on her own."

"Her temperature?" I asked.

"Normal right now. I can't make any promises, but as of this minute, we have reason to be optimistic."

"Any permanent damage?"

"Not that we can tell." He smiled his Australian smile of flawlessly white teeth and stood. He ran a hand through his impeccably coifed hair and opened his mouth to speak again. "Audra, if you want to see her, to hold her, you can suit up and go in."

I jumped to my feet.

"Just one thing." He stopped me. "House is with her."

I nodded my thanks and proceeded into the unit anyway.

I quietly entered the area with Zelda's incubator. Blue Eyes sat in a chair, awkwardly holding her. She still had tubes running in and out of her; Blue Eyes cradled her near his heart, mindful of her medical appendages, and he was quietly singing "Rockin' Robin." I sat in a chair next to him. He glanced at me, inclined his head quickly, and returned his attention to Zelda, never missing a word of the song. I tucked the blanket around her miniature feet, and she moved her arm in response. Her dark eyes were glued to the impossibly blue ones of her serenader. After finishing his unusual choice of lullaby, Blue Eyes handed her to me, helping to situate her in my anxious arms, helping me to keep from disconnecting anything of importance.

She scrunched up her face and prepared to scream; I turned, nervously, to Blue Eyes. He leaned over my shoulder, stroked her cheek with his long index finger, and hummed "They Call it Puppy Love." Zelda rubbed against his finger, rooting for a nipple. My milk let down and leaked through my clothes. Blue Eyes noticed.

"She probably isn't strong enough to suck still, but why don't you let some drip into her mouth?" he suggested.

I nervously uncovered my left breast, and the milked dripped all over her petite face, a few drops landing in her mouth. I was terrified I'd drown her, but Blue Eyes, standing behind me, stroked my shoulder encouragingly.

"You could make a decent living as a professional wet nurse," he whispered in my ear.

"I seriously think I'd upset Zelda, or I'd get up and beat the living he!! out of you," I whispered back.

"Glad to hear you still love me," he retorted.

My voice caught in my throat.

"Here, let's shift her and give your other breast a chance to submerge her," he continued nonplussed, maneuvering Zelda so that she was underneath my right breast. Milk flowed over her face as before with only a few drops actually landing near her mouth.

A few minutes later a nurse came over to change Zelda's diaper and return her to her bed. I reluctantly surrendered her. Blue Eyes led me out of the NICU; my t-shirt was soaked with unused milk. Blue Eyes slipped away and returned with a scrub top, and I replaced my soggy shirt with it. I didn't bother changing in private, but did so right in front of Blue Eyes. He had just witnessed me trying to breastfeed a baby unable to breastfeed; humility would have seemed fraudulent.

We were met in the hall by Greg and Allison. I leaned over and hugged Greg.

"She's breathing on her own?" he asked.

"For the moment, yes," I replied.

Allison hid uneasily behind Greg, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"You need some rest, Cissy," Greg said worriedly.

"I'm taking her home," Blue Eyes interjected. "Back to my, our, apartment," he added while staring pointedly at Allison.

There had been a time when I would have appreciated his comment to Allison, but now I only felt fatigue and confusion.

"I'd like to see you later," Greg said while holding my hand.

Blue Eyes exerted control. "Give me a call this evening. I'm sure, after she's had some sleep, she'll be glad for company to greet the New Year."

I allowed him to speak for me. I allowed him to shepherd me out of the hospital and into his car, and, once we got there, into his apartment. The gym bag crammed with my things was no longer beside the sofa where I had abandoned it prior to my flight to the NICU. I glanced around the living room, taking stock. I walked to the coffee table and lifted a book.

"Quartermaine's Terms," I said, holding the text of one of Simon Gray's plays. My book.

"Greg and I moved some of your things in. I wanted you to have what you needed for work, for your, well, for your comfort."

I clutched the book to my breasts. "Blue Eyes, I had been planning to leave when Zelda became so ill."

"Yes," he said as he limped into the kitchen and brought back a couple of beers. He opened one and handed it to me. I hadn't had anything alcoholic to drink in six months. The very cold drink tasted wonderful.

"I can't stay," I persisted.

"Of course," he continued, sitting on the sofa and patting the cushion for me to join him.

"Seriously."

"I am being serious.

I sat beside him and leaned against him. "About the rapist. . ."

"If you're going to tell me who it was, think twice. I won't be happy to know his identity," he warned.

"It doesn't matter except I need to tell someone. I realized, in a dream, I knew his voice."

Blue Eyes snatched a bottle from the end table and shook out one of his pills. As he swallowed it, he said, "And you'd rather tell me than your brother?"

"My brother would kill him."

"But I wouldn't?"

I laughed. "No, you'd be more likely to tell everyone who he was – who raped me. He!!, you'd probably take an ad in the paper."

"If you believe that, then why do you want to tell me?"

"Good question. I don't have a good answer, except that someone should know."

We drank without speaking for a while. Blue Eyes turned on the television and flipped through the shows, finally landing on a historical documentary about Tututkamen. My eyelids were heavy and about to close when he got up to retrieve two more beers.

"Greg's doctor. Aaron Michaels," I blurted when he sat back down.

"You were in love with him once?"

I felt the tension in the arm he wrapped about my waist. "Once. Maybe." I paused. "You've been in love. You know what it feels like, how to recognize it, but I don't. I was never in love with my ex-husband. Never. And Aaron, well, it was an affair. It was fun and passionate and, then, it wasn't fun, and the passion was not just passion, it was controlling and unpredictable. Frightening. There had been a time when I had been physically intimidated by him, but that was years ago. The idea he was keeping tabs on me and would attack me never occurred." I had been talking rapidly; I slowed down and drank some of my beer. "I don't know how to tell if I'm in love."

"Love isn't all it's cracked up to be," he said with an undercurrent of bitterness I didn't expect.

"But you were happy with Stacy, weren't you?"

"I thought so," he snapped. "As things happened, we weren't both getting what we needed."

"What do you need?"

He took a while to answer. "The answer to that question changes. Mostly, I have what I need. My job, my friendship with Wilson, the odd woman."

The odd woman. I wanted to spring off the sofa and pack all over again.

"But sometimes," he continued, "I feel a need for something more. For someone more."

"And that's why you started dating Stacy again."

He snorted. "We didn't date. She juggled, and I soared up and down. I was the ball."

"So she extracted her pound of flesh."

He flexed his right leg. "More than a pound, I'd say."

"Why am I here with you?" I didn't really want an answer, but the time had come.

"Because I want you here, and, I think, you want to be here."

"Because you feel sorry for me."

He laughed. "Feel sorry for you? No, madam, I don't. You're smart and capable and assertive – you get what you want."

He was so wrong about me. How could he know so little?

"Blue Eyes, I'm incapable of getting what I want. I'm trapped in a life of obligations. I take care of everyone else. I never concentrate on what I want."

"You thrive on your obligations," he said. Then he added, "And, if you can't always see what you want, maybe I can help you figure it out."

And maybe that was where he fit in. Maybe he gave me the freedom to finally examine my own desires and aspirations. Maybe he allowed me to relax my death grip on life just long enough to feel good.

I slept all afternoon. When I woke up, Blue Eyes had just returned from the hospital.

"Zelda's still breathing on her own," he whispered to me.

I was sprawled out on his sofa. "I need to go see her," I muttered as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"No," he directed. "Chase is there for the evening. He'll call if anything happens. You need to rest."

"No," I began.

"Little Mama, your deep-fried brother is leaving day after tomorrow. I told him to come over this evening and spend some time with you. So, don't 'no' me."

"But," I stammered, sitting up.

"Wilson's coming over with some food. I bought the booze." I finally noticed he was carrying a weighted-down bag into the kitchen.

"You're having a party?"

"He!!, no," he exclaimed from the other room. "Just some people coming over. Some want to see you, and some want to see me."

Indeed, Jim and Dr. Cuddy arrived around nine with arms laden with luscious food. I walked to Jim's car to help him unload, and he stopped me long enough to inquire after my health.

"I'll be great once Zelda has been released," I told him. He nodded in understanding. "You're with Dr. Cuddy," I continued. "Does that mean there is a romance?"

"No, we're just friends," he demurred, but the shy way he shook his head and avoided eye contact belied his words.

"The best romances start with friendships, Jim."

"Maybe," he answered as we returned to the apartment.

Blue Eyes had the food and the libations scattered over the kitchen table. I tried to assist Dr. Cuddy as she arranged everything in an orderly fashion. She poured herself a glass of white wine and offered me some. I declined but poured myself a healthy splash of Grey Goose over a few ice cubes. Dr. Cuddy's eyes widened at my choice, but I turned away from her and gulped. I heard a knock on the door and Blue Eyes yelling for the offender to enter. I walked into the hall looking for Greg.

And I not only saw Greg, but Allison was with him as well. I swallowed the rest of my vodka and went back for more. Dr. Cuddy returned to the living room, but Greg rolled into the kitchen looking for me.

"Can you find me two beers?" he asked.

"One for you and one for Allison?"

"No flies on you, Cissy."

"Greg, why did you bring her here?" I whined.

"Because I didn't think you'd slap her again."

"Greg," I continued, "didn't you hear the conversation she was having with Dr. Chase? They were lovers."

"Yes, I heard them. And I already knew they had been f#ck buddies."

My mouth dropped. "You knew?"

Greg took the two opened beers I handed him. "Your little brother has been around the block a time or two, Cissy. I'm not the idiot you seem to remember."

"But she's infatuated with Blue Eyes."

He nodded. "She's infatuated with the person she thinks he is. However, her infatuation is no more real than if she were fantasizing about that doctor on that TV show – that McDrooly guy. It's the same thing. The biped is just a fantasy figure to her. Me, I'm real. I'm real, and I'm here."

"And Dr. Chase?"

Greg smiled. "He'll be here to help her try to forget about me when I'm gone." He winked at me and wheeled himself into the other room. I heard him calling to Allison.

I pulled out a chair and sat down alone in Blue Eyes' kitchen. Zelda was real to me. Greg was real to me. And Blue Eyes was real to me. I wished, at that moment, I had never left Alabama.

Jim startled me with his quiet entrance. I knew, when I looked at him, he saw the unshed tears in my eyes. He took a chair near mine and poured lukewarm scotch into his empty glass. Finally, he spoke. "House sent me to check on you."

"He wouldn't come himself?"

"He's afraid."

I refilled my glass. "Of what?"

"Of losing you would be my guess."

I looked back into his face. "He never said that."

"Of course not."

"Then tell me why he sent you in here."

Jim grimaced. "He told me to make sure you weren't drinking all the scotch."

"You may tell him I prefer vodka."

"Audra."

"I want to, Jim. I swear I do. But there are too many ghosts. Stacy, Allison, god only knows who else. I'm not made of stone."

"He isn't, either."

"Bullsh!t, Jim. The man was born of steel."

Jim hesitated, thinking. Finally, he asked, "Have you seen Zelda's birth certificate?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about that. I made him change it."

"You made him change it? But why? Audra, it was what he wanted."

"Jim, he can't just assign fatherhood to someone because he wants to," I objected.

He shook his head in confusion. "He thought he was giving you a gift."

I shook my head in confusion. "It wasn't his gift to give."

Our stalemate was interrupted by more noise at the door. I turned to see Dr. Chase letting himself in.

"Oh, sh!t," I muttered.

Jim stood. "What?"

"Dr. Chase."

"You're not going to slap him, too, are you?"

I looked at Jim and laughed. "I'm in the slapping mood tonight, Jim. I just might."

We moved to join the others and watch the fireworks, but there was another knock on the front door. I motioned for Jim to go on into the living room while I answered it. If only I had stayed hidden in the kitchen.

Stacy backed up when she saw me. I turned and yelled, "Blue Eyes, woman for you!" Then I stepped into the bedroom and closed its door. And I knew she knew it was Blue Eyes' bedroom.