The Wall (The Woodlands) Read Free Page B

down in his crib. I leaned down and kissed his tiny head. He stirred and his forehead crinkled for a moment before it relaxed again. My lips had never touched something that soft. It was the first time I had ever done that. Smoothing his tiny, blond curls from his face, I smiled again, the sensation less and less foreign.
    I left our son and returned to Joseph. My heart still hurt . It was wrapped up in a dark shadow that would squeeze inside my chest at the sight of him. His body was suspended in gold, waiting. I climbed into his bed, lightly touching his resting face, almost scared it would cave in if I pressed too hard. I whispered, “I love you.” Another first. My tears stung and fell on his unresponsive face. Yes, hope is a dangerous thing.
    Matthew knocked on the doorframe, interrupting me. I wasn’t embarrassed. After he caught me poking Joseph’s eyes, this was nothing. I sat up, wiping my away my tears.
    “ I want to talk to you about the operation,” he said seriously. He walked to my bed and sat on the edge, crossing his legs like he was a preschooler sitting on the mat in front of a teacher.
    I wasn ’t sure I wanted to know. I just nodded.
    “ It’s a very complicated procedure. If it works, though, Joseph will be as good as new. Maybe better.”
    “ So why didn’t you do it before?” If it would fix him so completely, why wait until now?
    “ It’s very risky, the success rate is…”
    “ Stop!” I turned away from him, closing my ears, closing myself off to the prospect of complications and slim chances. That cloud of hope was trying to return to the sky. I didn’t want to let it, not yet. I held onto it tightly, clutching it to my chest like a pillow.
    Matthew put his hands up in surrender. “All right. I just want you to understand that this is his last chance. If it doesn’t work…”
    “ It will work. It has to.” I knew I was being stubborn, but I couldn’t leave room for the possibility the operation wouldn’t work. That was not an option. Joseph wouldn’t leave me here on my own.
    Matthew smiled. He understood. For some reason, he cared about us. I trusted that he would try his best.
    “ Do you have any questions?” His kind eyes assessed my restless state. I was all over the place. He was much older than me but his casualness made him seem young, like he was a surgeon that still climbed trees and played. Maybe he was.
    “ What can I do?” I asked anxiously.
    He chuckled. “Find people with O blood and get them to report to the clinic.”
    “ That boy… Cal. He had O; I’ll go get him.” I jumped up, about to fly out the door.
    “ Not now. Tomorrow.” I scowled. I didn’t want to wait. “Get some sleep, Rosa. Tomorrow will be a very difficult day for everyone.”
    No. Not difficult. Wonderful . He could be fixed.
    I relaxed back into the bed, sharing a pillow with Joseph. I wondered if they had any technology that could fix me. I know what I would ask them to do. Before the baby, I would have said my eyes. That would have been the first thing. Now, I would ask them to install a few doors or blocks between my brain, my mouth, and my body. I would probably break through them all but at least it would slow me down. Stop the continuous flow of stupid or dangerous that seemed to pour out without warning.
    I p ulled Joseph’s limp arm around me and fell asleep, dreaming of the squeeze I would feel when he woke up and pulled me to him.

    We were to meet at midday with our results. I had asked everyone I came across what their blood type was, probably more than once. I wasn’t registering their faces; they sloshed down the halls, walking IV bags, in my eyes. I found myself winding up tighter and tighter like a rubber band about to twang and take out someone’s eye. Each person I asked seemed genuinely frightened when they told me no , like I was going to squeeze blood out of them like juicing an orange. And I couldn’t find Cal. I hoped someone else had.
    I made my way