As we all exchanged hellos, I was thankful that the tears staining my face could easily have been for my grandmother. “I mean, really,” Martha continued. “Like her wedding planning is so much more important than everyone else’s job. This is yourmotherfor God’s sake.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Let’s place bets on how much she’s going to help during the recovery and rehab process.”
Mom laughed. “Right. I’m not holding my breath on that one.”
Martha pushed her glasses back up her nose, and, looking down at the newspaper, said, “She had to have all those horrible transfusions during the last surgery. I think one of us should get some blood ready for her just in case.”
Sally shook her head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of. Do you know how well blood is screened before it’s used for transfusions?”
Louise, uncharacteristically ruffled, looked up from her crossword puzzle. “It was screened well in 1984 too, but people still got AIDSbecause we didn’t know what it was yet.” She fiddled with the turquoise stud in her ear and said, “Well, I’m certainly not standing in line to do it. I think the blood is fine, and I always pass out when I give.”
Sally crossed her arms. “I have low iron. They won’t even let me give blood.”
Martha shrugged. “We all remember the Broughton High blood drive incident, right?”
Mom sighed and stood up. “I’ll give the blood, okay? It’s not that big of a deal.”
I linked my arm with hers and said, “I’ll go with you to talk to someone about that.”
It would have been as good a time as any to tell her. But the truth was so bad, so convoluted, so scary, that I couldn’t face it yet. In fact, I think I was in denial. I was captaining the ship, and I could see the water filling it, yet, somehow, I hadn’t faced that it was, in fact, going to capsize. Maybe it was the thrill of knowing that I was going to get to be a mother, or maybe it was that I have the tendency to try to be strong when everyone around me is crumbling. But I was something bordering on chipper that day.
Mom and I approached the nurse’s station, and Tammy, the head nurse on duty that day, smiled from behind the desk. I think we were her favorite patient family. “What can I do for you girls? Is that sweet daddy of yours still in there with your momma?”
Mom nodded. “Yup. And just as clear as a bell today.” She smiled. “Tammy, I was wondering if I could give some blood for Momma in case she has to have a transfusion.”
She bit her lip. “Well, you can. But it has to go through the same screening process as everybody else’s, so it’s unlikely that it would be ready in time to use for her surgery.”
Mom nodded. “Well, can I do it anyway so I don’t have to go back there and deal with those lunatics?”
Tammy laughed. “We can always use some good blood. What type are you, sweetie?”
“B, I’m pretty sure,” Mom said. “I try to give blood a couple of times a year.”
Tammy nodded. “Well, your mother is A positive, so she can’t take your blood anyway. Looks like you’re off the hook!”
Mom grimaced. “Daddy is A positive too, so maybe he could give for her? Martha is dead set that some family blood will be waiting in case of emergency.”
I laughed, and, before I could even think about the ramifications of what I was saying, I blurted out, “That’s impossible. If they’re both A positive, you can’t possibly be B.”
“What do you mean?”
Tammy waved her hand. “I’m sure there’s just some sort of mix-up. Maybe your daddy isn’t actually A, or you’re not actually B.”
Mom didn’t say anything, but you could see the slight change in the color of her face.
“How do you know what D-daddy’s blood type is anyway?” I asked.
Instead of answering, she put her finger up. “I’ll be right back.”
I followed her to the waiting room and watched, perplexed, as she snatched her wallet out of her pocketbook and rifled around while saying, “What blood type are you?” to her sisters.
“I’m A positive,” Louise practically sang. “I remember because, obviously, I’d never be anything less than an A plus.”
“A negative,” Martha said.
Sally rolled her eyes and tapped her pencil on the newspaper she was now holding, I assumed trying to fill in the answers Louisecouldn’t on the crossword. “I’m O. The damn universal donor.” She sighed. “Please tell me you are too. Could you store some blood for me? I’m always nervous I won’t be able to get any when North Korea bombs us to smithereens.”
Mom pulled a card out of her wallet and said nothing, practically stomping back to the nurse’s station. “See,” she said to Tammy, thrusting her Red Cross blood donor card in her face. “B.”
