Eric appeared at her side, seemingly from out of nowhere. His hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. The priest must have been waiting for this, because upon seeing Eric, he began the service. Annie’s mind drifted during the priest’s opening remarks about the uncertainty and unfairness of life and how someday we would see Dillon again. She let it drift on purpose, because to listen to his well meaning words would have surely made her run up there and strangle him. He meant well. He was just doing his job and he truly believed what he said. After all, he was a priest. How could he know? Had his baby ever died? The voice of one of her best friends reeled her back to reality. She was reading from The Little Prince by Saint-Exupery, just as Annie had requested.
In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you will have stars that can laugh!
The words reminded her of the night Dillon was born and the star she had seen from the hospital window. She had read The Little Prince in high school and for some reason had remembered the part about the star at the last minute. She would never forget the courage and kindness it took for her friend to read it that day. It was the final reading of the service, the last words spoken.
No one knew what to say or do. Eric’s parents invited everyone to their house for something to eat. It was the logical thing to do -- it seemed too early to go home, Eric had reasoned. One by one people said quick good-byes and walked to their cars parked one behind the other along the edge of Babyland. Bits and pieces of their words floated toward Annie through the humid air.
“See you at the house.”
“Be there in a few minutes.”
“You can follow us, if you want.”
Annie was riveted to the spot where she stood next to Dillon’s casket. It was as though her feet had grown roots that ran deep -- roots that would cradle her baby underground, keeping him safe and warm forever. How could she just leave him there, all alone? Again, as they had so many times in the days since he had come into the world, her arms ached and her heart hurt. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to give herself some comfort.
“Come on, Annie,” Eric said as he walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s time to go.” He remained there, keeping his distance from the casket.
“It seems so cruel to just leave him here,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.
“Well, you can’t stay here,” the weariness in his voice was deafening.
“I know, but he’s all alone.”
Eric looked around as the last of the mourners got into their cars and prepared to leave.
“Annie, everyone’s going to my parents’ house now. We’re supposed to be there. Come on -- let’s go.” He took a few steps away from her, as if that would make her leave.
When she failed to follow him, he stopped and sighed, his frustration breaking through the thin veneer of patience and control. “Annie, come on. People are going to think you’re crazy if you stay here much longer.”
She turned toward him in slow motion, her heart pounding. She squeezed her hands into fists, her arms stiff and close to her sides. She opened and closed her fists several times and took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke, “Let them think I’m crazy.”
Even though her voice was barely audible, it was strong and clear. Eric squinted and tilted his head in her direction, straining to hear what she had said.
“What did you say?” he asked, almost afraid that he’d heard her correctly the first time.
“I said, let them think I’m crazy!” she repeated, saying each word more loudly than the last. By the time she finished the sentence, she was shouting. The priest, who was getting into his car at that moment turned and looked in their direction. He froze in place, balanced precariously between offering some assistance or driving away as quickly as possible. He offered up a fervent prayer, ducked into his Volkswagen Beetle and slowly inched his way away from the painful scene.
Eric stared at her, not knowing what to do or what to say. He looked over toward the cars by the curb and hoped the people inside of them hadn’t heard his wife’s outburst. Finally he just said, “Annie.” He looked at her helplessly, hoping she’d snap out of this strange behavior. “You’ll feel better if you get away from here.”
“I’m tired of being told how I feel or how I should feel! My baby is in that casket -- my baby! He’s so tiny and all alone. I can’t leave him. I just can’t.”
She was sobbing now, struggling to breathe in between each word. Annie stood there alone, her arms folded across her chest. She winced when her arms brushed her engorged breasts that Eric had helped her wrap with an ACE bandage. Her milk had come in that morning, filling her up with sweet milk that no baby would drink.
One of the nurses had explained that when the milk came in, it would be very painful for a day or two until it dried up on its own. “With no baby nursing, the milk production will stop by itself,” she had said in a very matter of fact way. “It can be rather uncomfortable, so sometimes it helps to bind them with an ACE bandage. Any questions?” She looked up from her list of topics to go over with new mothers, peering at Annie over the half-glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. She seemed perplexed to see Annie staring back at her with a horrified expression on her face. The nurse shook her head and smiled, “Oh honey -- don’t worry about it -- you’ll be just fine. It’s just what happens if you decide not to breast feed, which by the way, is the best thing to do for your baby. So, let’s see -- what’s next here? Oh yes --” she looked up at Annie, “what type of formula will you be feeding your baby?”
“My baby died,” Annie said softly. She gazed out the window at white fluffy clouds on a background of brilliant blue sky. She swore the clouds were taking the shape of a baby sleeping on its tummy. She blinked hard and looked again only to find it was gone.
“What was that, hon?” the nurse asked distractedly as she organized her paperwork.
Suddenly she stopped, her head snapping up to look at Annie. “Oh my God -- you had the stillborn, didn’t you? Oh dear - I am so sorry! Oh, you poor thing - I am so sorry! I’ll - I’ll be right back.” She scurried out of the room.
Annie just sat there, feeling guilty for ruining the woman’s day. She caught a glimpse of her out at the nurse’s station, talking excitedly, wringing her hands as she spoke to the other nurses. At one point they all turned and looked toward Annie’s room and shook their heads sadly. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her and yet somehow she could. Nothing would surprise her ever again. She and Eric just had the ultimate surprise -- nothing she could think of could top it.
Eric’s somber voice brought her back to the moment. “He’s my baby too, Annie. I know how you feel --”
Annie’s words pounced on him. “You don’t know how I feel! You don’t know! Do you feel empty inside? Are you filling up with milk that has nowhere to go? Are you the one who failed?” She stood there, almost daring him to contradict her. Then she saw how dejected and confused he looked and sighed heavily. She walked over to him and put her arms around him. She laid her head on his chest. He in turn wrapped his arms around her gingerly, as though she might break so as not to cause her any more pain.
“Yes, Eric. He was your baby too.”
They stood there together for a few more minutes, looking at the little white casket and then very slowly and gently, Eric guided Annie toward the car. There, on the other side of the street, she saw the blonde in the black dress, wave good-bye as she drove away.
The Photograph
“Can I get you some, um, coffee or something?” Eric’s younger brother Joe asked Annie awkwardly, interrupting her thoughts.
She