Derailed

FORTY-NINE

Our new life.

I got up at six-thirty and made breakfast for Deanna and Anna. For Jamie. She went off to school with me. I was able to enroll her at George Washington Carver. When the principal asked if they could have her previous academic records forwarded to them, their favorite new teacher said sure — he’d notify her last school and they’d be there in a few months or so. The principal said fine and never asked me again.

I’d scouted out a local endocrinologist named Dr. Milbourne, so Anna could continue her dialysis without interruption. He asked for her records. I gave him the same answer I gave the school. He didn’t seem overly concerned because Deanna had Anna’s blood journals for the last five years. That and her current blood sugar reading and medical work-up seemed to tell him all he needed to know. He put her on dialysis in the office, and wrote her a prescription for a portable machine we could use in the house. My new medical insurance, courtesy of the Illinois Board of Ed, took care of everything.

I managed to find a drugstore in Chicago that carried the special insulin Anna needed, the one made from pig cells that was slowly being phased out in favor of the synthetic insulins that Anna didn’t respond to as well.

Deanna, who used her previous middle name of Kim, took a part-time job as a receptionist to help out with the family finances.

And an odd and wondrous thing happened.

We became happy again.

It dawned on us gradually, in small increments here and there, until we could finally and fearlessly say it out loud.

We’d been given another chance at this thing called family. We grabbed it with both hands and held on for dear life. It felt a little like when we’d first started out, newly married and imbued with passion and hope. We didn’t know how long we’d have Anna for, that’s true, but we were determined to appreciate every single minute we did. We talked about it now, comforted each other, found strength in each other. Silence was forever banned from our doorstep. We became a kind of poster family for communication.

And slowly, intimacy came back as well. The first night we were together again, with Anna safely asleep in bed, we tore into each other with a kind of desperate abandon. Sex had taken on a new edge and, with it, a new excitement. We mauled each other, we banged bodies, we screwed ourselves sweaty, and in the end we looked at each other with a kind of amazement. Was that really us?

Two months later, Deanna announced she was pregnant.

“You’re what?” I said.

“With child. Knocked up. Preggers. So,” she said, “what do you think? Should I have an abortion?”

“No,” I said.

We’d wanted another child once. Anna’s getting sick had changed our minds. But now, I believe I wanted it as much as I’ve ever wanted anything.

“Yeah,” Deanna said. “I kinda feel that way, too.”

Seven months later, Jamie had a brother. We called him Alex. Call it a homage to Jamie’s previous incarnation — and to my grandfather Alexander.

I had one close call.

I was coming out of Roxman’s Drugs with Anna’s prescription. I was marveling at the actual severity of a Chicago winter; Windy City didn’t quite do it justice.

Frigid City. Subzero City. Frozen Stiff City. Yes.

I was wearing a parka, knit cap, earmuffs, fur-lined gloves. I was still quivering. Strands of frozen moisture sat on my upper lip. I was looking for my car in an outdoor parking lot and hoping it would start.

I walked past an office building and bumped into someone with blond hair.

“Excuse me,” I said, turning around to face her.

It was Mary Widger.

“That’s okay,” she said.

I whipped back around and kept walking. I remembered — one of our packaged goods clients had its headquarters here. She must’ve been coming from a meeting. When I turned the corner and peeked, she was still standing there.

Did she recognize me?

I don’t think so. I still had my beard. I was bundled in leather and fur. Still, it felt like my heart went on hiatus for a while. I found it hard to breathe.

I waited a few minutes, enveloped in my own clouds of hot vapor, then walked back to the corner and peeked again.

She was gone.