Lost Cause (26 page)

The doctor came out of the room and Jack
asked, “How’s it going, doctor?”

“Not good.”

“What do you mean, not good?”

“Just that. I examined her a moment ago and,
well it looks like a breeched birth.”

“Breech?”

“It means the fetus is turned around the
wrong way. It’s going to make the delivery very difficult on both
mother and child I fear.”

“What can you do about it?”

“Well, I could use forceps to try and turn
the fetus, but that would be dangerous for the mother. Or I can do
nothing and let the birth occur naturally, which would be extremely
dangerous for the fetus.”

“Hell of a choice,” Jack said frowning.

“Yes. And yours to make, unfortunately.”

“Give me the odds, doc. Help me out here.”
The doctor thought for a moment, his eyes shimmering in the low
light of the hallway. Finally he said,

“Thirty-seventy on the forceps, fifty-fifty
on a natural delivery.” It was Jack’s turn to ponder. He paced the
hallway for a few moments and then said,

“Let’s go with the natural.”

“Alright. It shouldn’t be much longer now,
she’s fairly well dilated. I suggest you wait here, or take a walk
around the grounds. She’ll be here when you return.”

Jack returned to his seat in the hallway and
watched the door to the surgery. What seemed like an eternity later
a nurse came out of the room followed closely by the doctor. The
nurse held something in her arms that looked like a hairless
Opossum wrapped in a towel and hurried down the hall. Jack followed
the nurse and doctor and found them in a room working with the
new-born child. The doctor saw Jack and held up the baby for him to
see. “It’s a girl,” the doctor said before placing the baby back on
a table.

“Is she all right ?” asked Jack.

“She’s very small,” the doctor said. “Please,
Mr. Saylor, gives us a moment.”

The nurse walked over and closed the door and
Jack found himself staring at white paint wondering what was going
on.

After a moment he went back to the surgery
room and stood by Marie’s bed. He looked down at her and took a
deep breath thinking she was dead. She looked dead; her face was
gray, and lifeless. It was clear by her shallow breathing she was
just unconscious, but she looked as dead as any dead person he’d
ever seen before.

“How is she?” he asked the nurse who had just
entered the room.

“She’s weak. She had a rough time of it.”

Marie stirred on the bed and opened her eyes.
“Jack, where were you, Jack?”

“I’m here.”

“Did you see our baby?”

“Yes.”

“A girl, right?”

“Yes, a girl.”

“Jacqueline. Is she beautiful like you?”
Beautiful? Jack thought. She looks like a skinned woodland
creature.

“Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

Jack saw the nurse look at him strangely.

“I’m awfully tired,” Marie said. “And I hurt
terribly.”

“You should go now,” the nurse said. “Mrs.
Saylor needs to rest for awhile.”

“I’ll be right outside,” Jack said. He leaned
over and kissed Marie on the forehead. She was very pale and weak
and extremely tired.

As he turned to leave the room, Jack beckoned
to the nurse. “May I speak to you outside?” She followed him out to
the hall and he asked,

“What’s the matter with the baby?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, of course not.”

“She was still born. I’m so sorry.”

“She’s dead?”

“They couldn’t get her to breathe. The breech
birth, she couldn’t breathe. I’m sorry, Mr. Saylor.”

“So she’s dead.”

“Yes. It’s such a shame. I thought you
knew.”

“No,” Jack said. Then, “You better go back in
with Marie. I’ll check on her in a little while. I need a
moment.”

“Certainly, sir, completely
understandable.”

She went back into the surgery and Jack sat
down in a chair by a fogged over window. It had begun to rain and
the soft patter of raindrops on the glass was somehow disconcerting
to Jack. It was not a time for soothing calmness that a gentle rain
often brings. This moment required a raging gale complete with wind
and hail and terrible destruction. This was a time for
mourning.

So that’s how it was to be; the child was
dead. She never had a chance at life; doomed to die before she was
born because of the sins of her father and mother. It just didn’t
seem right to Jack. Many things didn’t appear right to him. It
seemed everything he’d tried to do or be turned out to be a lost
cause. The war, his marriage, the failed birth of his first child;
all lost causes. And to what effect? To punish him for some
nameless sin he’d committed in the ignorance of his youth? It was
all a giant perplexity to Jack, and it was an altogether bitter
pill to swallow, especially since he could not identify the malady
it was intended to cure.

He thought of the tiny, pitiful baby who
never had a chance to live out its own mystery. Jack wished the
hell the little thing had survived. Too much dying, too much
suffering in the world. Now it seemed that Marie could die too. But
that’s what people did, right? The whole purpose of men is to die
and spread yet more corruption upon the earth. You died and you did
not ever really know why. You never had the time to learn; there
was no tutorial or sage professor to guide you through. The gods
threw you into the mix and told you the rules and the first time
they caught you going off the rails they killed you. Or they killed
you gratuitously by taking those you love. Or destroyed your face
like Campbell. The methods changed from person to person but they
killed you in the end. That was the one thing you could count on;
live long enough and they would find a way to kill you and you’ll
take your last breath wondering what you did to deserve it.

So now Jack sat out in the hall and waited to
hear yet another affirmation of death when they told him Marie was
dead. The nurse did not come out into the hall, so after a half an
hour, he went to the door and opened it and looked in. He saw the
nurse sitting by the bed and Marie with her head on a pillow and a
white sheet covering the lower half of her body. Upon seeing him,
the nurse put her finger to her lips and walked to the door.

“How is she?” asked Jack.

“She’s resting,” the nurse said. “You should
go and have your supper and then come back afterward. She should be
a little stronger then.”

Though he was far from hungry, Jack left the
hospital and walked down the dark wet street to the cafe. It was
brightly lit inside and there were many people sitting at the
tables. Jack didn’t see a place to sit right away, and one of the
Mexican twins came up to him and directed him to a tiny table
across from an old man with white whiskers who was drinking tequila
and reading a newspaper. Jack sat down and asked the woman what the
daily special was and she said chile verde and he said he would
have some as well as a large glass of beer.

He ate a little of the spicy food and drank
all the beer and ordered another glass. “You are very thirsty
tonight, senor,” the raven-haired girl said.

“My child died tonight.” A look of horror
crossed her smooth face.

“Lo siento. I am so sorry,” she stuttered.
Then she clasped a trembling hand to her mouth and went to get the
beer.

The pork and chile pepper dish was hot and
Jack drank quite a bit of beer to cool his tongue. The buzzed
feeling the strong malt gave him was an added bonus and he thought
he should order another when the woman returned to the table.

It was her sister who bough the refill. She
too was saddened by the news of the baby’s passing. “Thank you. Can
you keep these coming?” Jack said, indicating his beer glass.

He drank several glasses of beer savoring the
numbing effect of the alcohol. As he drank he read the newspaper
over the old man’s shoulder paying particular attention to the bold
headlines. LOST CAUSE! it read in large, cursive letters. The
article below the headline bemoaned the fact that it had taken over
a month for Texas to learn that the Confederacy had failed in its
attempt to win its freedom from the northern oppressors. When the
man noticed that Jack was reading the paper over his shoulder, he
folded it over and put it on the table in front of him.

Jack was not yet ready to leave the comfort
of the warm cafe, telling himself that Marie needed more time to
rest, yet knowing in his heart that he dreaded hearing the news
that she had not survived the delivery. It was too soon to go back
to the hospital; he was not suitably medicated or emotionally
prepared to face such crushing news.

Eventually he did leave and walked through
the rain back to the hospital. He met the nurse who had been
attending to Marie coming down the hall and she said, “There you
are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You wife’s been hemorrhaging.”

“Oh Lord, is she. . .?”

“No. The doctor’s with her now.”

“Is it serious?”

“I won’t coddle you, Mr. Saylor, it is very
serious. I suggest you stay close by.”

The nurse went into the surgery and shut the
door. Jack returned to his chair by the window and dropped his head
in his hands. Everything that mattered was gone inside of him. He
couldn’t think clearly. He just knew she was going to die and there
was nothing he could do about it. Frantic, he began to pray,
although he didn’t believe in prayer. But he didn’t know anything
else to do.

“Don’t let her die. Oh, God, please don’t let
her die. I’ll do anything for you if you want if you don’t let her
die. Please, please, please, dear God, don’t let her die.”

A few moments later the nurse opened the door
and motioned for him to come inside admonishing him to keep it
brief. Marie looked up and smiled as he approached the bed. There
were tears in his eyes and he was having a hard time keeping his
hands from shaking.

“You’re alright aren’t you Marie?” he said
pleadingly.

“I’m going to die, Jack. And just between you
and me, I hate the thought of it. But I have to pay for what I did
to our first child.”

“No, no, you’ll be alright, sweetheart.
You’re going to get better and—”

“Did you get to hold Jacqueline yet” Is she
very tiny?” Jack could not contain his tears.

“She, she’s wonderful,” he stammered. She
reached out a shaky hand and placed it on his arm.

“Come on now, Jack, you have to be stronger
than that. You have to be strong to raise little Jackie, she’s
going to need her daddy to be strong.”

“Oh, Marie.”

“I was going to write you a note to remember
me by in case something happened, but, alas I was lazy and I didn’t
get around to it. Sorry.”

“Do you want me to get the priest to come and
see you?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a little late for
repentance, don’t you think?”

“He says it’s never too late.”

“Well, he’s just a man, isn’t he?” She
faltered for a moment, then said, “I’m not afraid to die. I just
hate leaving you and the baby. You won’t hold it against me, will
you?””

“You must not talk like that.”

“Alright,” Marie said.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

Marie smiled very thinly. “No.” Then a moment
later, “You won’t do the things that we did together with another
girl, will you?”

“I wouldn’t consider such a thing. But it
won’t be necessary. You’re getting better.”

“I do want you to have other women, though.
You’re too sweet to go through life not being loved by
someone.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“You will. When the time is right.” It was
becoming very difficult for her to talk.

“Please, Mr. Saylor, let’s leave the room so
she can rest,” the nurse said. Marie nodded, her face painfully
gray.

“Go pull yourself together,” she whispered.
“And kiss Jacqueline for me.”

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll be right outside
if you need me.”

Jack sat in the chair and waited for a long
time. Finally, just when the sun was brightening the window panes,
the nurse came to the door and called him over. “I’m afraid your
wife is gravely ill,” she said softly. “She’s unconscious.
Apparently she is having one hemorrhage after another.”

Jack rushed inside the room and went to her
bedside. He sat on the bed holding her hand until she died a short
time later. She never regained unconsciousness and it did not take
her very long to die once he took hold of her hand.

“You should leave while we shroud the body,”
the nurse said. She was standing by the foot of the bed holding a
large folded sheet.

“Get out,” Jack said sharply. “Just leave us
alone for awhile.”

After the nurse left, he turned down the
lantern and shut the door and sat with her for nearly an hour
trying to understand why she had to die. A few tears came, but he
felt his grieving wholly inadequate. It was like trying to say
goodbye to a shadow.

The priest knocked softly on the door and
announced himself and Jack let him in with little enthusiasm. “I’m
so sorry, Jack, I will pray for—”

“Save it padre. This isn’t the time for your
religious bullshit.”

“Is there nothing I can do for you?”

Jack looked at him for a long time and then
laughed bitterly. “There’s nothing that can be done for a lost
cause, padre.”