Between Sisters

Meg swallowed hard. “Did you know your Mommy loved Tab when she was little? And Fresca. But I made her drink orange juice. ”

Meghann paid for the juice, then carried Alison back to the waiting room. But when she leaned over to put Ali down, the girl squeezed harder.

“Oh, Ali,” Meg said, holding her niece. She wanted to promise that Mommy would be better, but the words caught in her throat.

She sat down, still holding Ali, and stroked her hair. Within minutes, the child was asleep.

From across the room, Gina looked up, saw her holding Ali, then went back to her crossword puzzle. Sam, Mama, Bobby, Karen, and Charlotte were playing cards. Joe sat off in the corner, reading a magazine. He hadn’t looked up in hours, hadn’t spoken to anyone. But then, none of them had spoken much. What was there to say?

Around noon, the surgical nurse came out, told them all that it would be several more hours.

“You should get something to eat,” she said, shaking her head. “It won’t help Claire if you all pass out. ”

Sam nodded, stood up. “Come on,” he said to everyone. “Let’s get out of here for a while. Lunch is on me. ”

“I’ll stay here,” Meghann said. Food was the last thing on her mind. “Ali needs the sleep. ”

Bobby squeezed her shoulder. “You want us to bring you something back?”

“Maybe a sandwich for Ali—peanut butter and jelly. ”

“You got it. ”

When they’d gone, Meghann leaned back in her chair, rested her head against the wall. In her arms, Ali snored quietly. It seemed like yesterday that Meg had held Claire this way, telling her baby sister that everything would be okay.

“It’s been almost four hours, damn it. What’re they all doin’ in there, anyway?”

Meg looked up. Mama stood there, holding an unlit Virginia Slims cigarette. Her makeup had faded a little, been smudged off in places, and without it, she looked faded, too. “I thought you went out for lunch with everyone. ”

“Eat cafeteria food? I don’t think so. I’ll eat an early dinner in my hotel suite. ”

“Have a seat, Mama. ”

Her mother collapsed into the molded plastic chair beside her. “This is the worst day of my life, honest to God. An that’s sayin’ something. ”

“It’s hard. Waiting. ”

“I should go find Sam. Maybe he’ll want to play cards or somethin’. ”

“Why did you leave him, Mama?”

“He’s a good man” was all Mama said.

At first, Meghann thought it wasn’t an answer. Then she understood.

Mama had run away because Sam was a good man. Meghann could relate to that kind of fear.

“There are things I should have said,” Mama whispered, gesturing impatiently with her unlit cigarette. “But I never was too good without a script. ”

“None of us talks really well. ”

“And thank God. Talkin’ doesn’t change a thing. ” Mama stood up suddenly. “Talkin’ to reporters always cheers me up. Bye, Meggy. I’ll be across the street when”—her voice trembled—“y’all hear that she’s fine. ” With that, she sailed out of the waiting room, her smile Hollywood bright.

One hour bled into the next until finally, around 4:00, Dr. Weissman came into the waiting room. Meghann was the first to see him. She tightened her hold on Ali and got to her feet. Bobby stood next; then Sam and Mama; then Joe, Gina, Karen, and Charlotte. In a silent group, they moved toward the doctor, who rubbed a hand through his thinning hair and managed a tired smile.

“The surgery went well. ”

“Thank God,” they whispered together.