Roses Are Red

Chapter Thirty-Five

I held a special image in my mind of Jannie dancing with Rosie the cat, singing "Roses are Red." I let it play over and over again that long, terrible morning at St. Anthony's. I suspect that waiting in hospitals is as close as we get to being in hell before our time, or at least in purgatory. Nana, Damon, and I didn't talk much the whole time. Sampson and Jannie's aunts came by for short stints. They were devastated too. It was just awful. The worst hours of my life.

Sampson took Nana and Damon to the cafeteria to get something to eat, but I wouldn't leave. There was no word of how Jannie was doing. Everything at the hospital felt unreal to me. Images of Maria's death came flashing back to me. After my wife was wounded in a senseless drive-by shooting, she had been brought to St. Anthony's too.

At a few minutes past five, the neurologist, Dr. Petito, walked into the waiting room where we were gathered. I saw him before he saw us. I felt ill. Suddenly, my heart was racing, thudding loudly. I couldn't tell anything from his face, other than that he looked tired. He saw us, waved a hand, and walked our way.

He was smiling, and I knew it was good.

"We got it," Dr. Petito said as soon as he reached us. He shook my hand, then Nana's, and Damon's. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," I whispered as I held his hand tightly, 'for all your sacrifices."

About fifteen minutes later, Nana and I were allowed into the recovery suite. Suddenly I was feeling buoyant, pleasantly lightheaded. Jannie was the only patient in there. We walked quietly to her bedside, almost on tiptoes. A gauze turban covered her little head. She was hooked up to monitors and an IV.

I took one hand. Nana Mama took the other. Our girl was okay; they got it.

"I feel like I lived and went to heaven," Nana said to me and smiled. "Don't you?"

Jannie stirred and began to wake up after about twenty-five minutes in the recovery room. Dr. Petito was called and returned moments later. He asked her to take some deep breaths, then try to cough.

"You have a headache, Jannie?" he asked.

"I think so," she said.

Then she looked over at Nana and me. She squinted first, then she tried to open her eyes wide. She was obviously still groggy. "Hello, Daddy. Hello, Nana. I knew you'd be in heaven too," Jannie finally said.

I turned around then, so that she could see what I'd done.

I had shaven a spot back there. It was just like hers.