The baby arrived in time
And Mom is doing fine
But they forgot the flowers for Calliope

It doesn’t seem she’s aware
Their gift is being there
Without reserve, she loves her family
Would you love a rose, Calliope?

Calliope, can't you see
There's nothing he won’t do?
While you weren’t tending them
Wild roses grew

A rose is a gift to give
But it needs room to live
Be gentle or the thorns will wound your hand

Cut flowers make her cry
She hates to watch them die
He’d die for her, he doesn’t understand
She’d rather hold his hand
No roses for Calliope

Calliope, can't you see
There's nothing he won’t do?
While you weren’t tending them
Wild roses grew

A rose is a gift to give
But it needs room to live
Be gentle or the thorns will wound your hand

Cut flowers make her cry
She hates to watch them die
He’d die for her, he doesn’t understand
She’d rather hold his hand
No roses for Calliope

Milo paused in front of the swinging double doors to the maternity ward, closed his eyes and crossed himself. I renounce the devil and all his works, even the dinosaurs, and I’m sorry I stole all those clothes off of dead people and I won’t wear any ladies’ things ever again — just please, please, please make Calliope be okay…

The room was long and dim, with white walls and ceiling and tile. The beds were metal with wheels on the legs. There were some cloth dividers on metal frames with wheels too.

In the beds, some covered forms were silent and still, some were sitting up and looking annoyed. One woman, barefoot in a loose white nightdress, was making her careful way down the corridor between the beds, holding on to the barred iron end of each one. There were clipboards with charts, even those, hanging from the bars. It smelled like gauze and blood and disinfectant.

“I Wanna Be Sedated,” which Milo did not like, was playing over it all.

Not okay. This is not okay. This is not okay…

Milo, please…

A weak, pale hand was dangling from the edge of a bed like a corpse lily.

NOT OKAY…

There was a divider in the way, so Milo saw the foot of the bed and chart and the nurses by the record player first. “I Wanna Be Sedated” ended and the taller of the pair urgently replaced it with “I Think I Love You.” The shorter nurse was gripping a red fire bucket with EMERGENCY written on it, and frowning grimly.

They were wearing grey uniforms with white aprons, which was nowhere near dissimilar enough to improve Milo’s mood. Probably frilly pink ball gowns with flowered hats wouldn’t have cheered him up any.

Then he saw Calliope. She was propped up with pillows, surrounded by white, in a little puddle of light from a shaded lamp on the night table. This was also all too similar — and she did not appear happy with it. Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat and her eyes closed.

No. Please don’t let that be her. Not there. Not like that. Please put me there instead and let Calliope go home…

Then she looked up and smiled. “Oh, hi, you guys. I have a baby now.” She lifted the white bundle in her arms, which was almost invisible against the bedding. “It’s a girl. I guess Cousin Violet was just messing with us.”

Erik’s mouth dropped open. No, he thought. All that trouble. All that talking. Violet you… you… He tried to come up with something suitably expressive that wouldn’t get him hit by a truck later. …You meanie!

The sound of childish laughter filled his head.

“Or they gave me the wrong one,” Calliope said. She held up her wrist, which had a paper bracelet on it. “But they labelled us right away, so I dunno. I like this one…”

There was a squinched little pink face barely visible in the folds of the blanket.

Mordecai rushed forward, followed closely by Hyacinth. Milo, the General and the kids hung back.

Milo wrapped his hands around the cold bars at the end of the bed. Maybe just to keep from running away, maybe due to some more complicated emotion. The sensation of a cold metal bed frame in his hands was also quite familiar, though usually accompanied by twisted cloth around his wrists.

Mordecai said it first, “Calliope how are you?”

Calliope frowned at them. “Well, I’m kinda messed up. I mean, baby.” She lifted the bundled form again, then sighed and looked up at the record player. “Milo, babe, can you get that? They keep playing the same stack over and over, ’cos nobody wants to put their hand in the cubby and do the spinny thing.” She turned her frown on the pair of nurses, with some effort as they were slightly behind her. “And I can’t reach. I’m getting kinda tired of it…”

As soon as “I’m getting kinda tired of it” registered (the General had time to take two steps to take care of it herself) Milo ripped the clipboard off the end of the bed (accidentally… probably), dropped it clattering to the floor and shoved past the General to take the record off. He scratched it and dropped it in the process.

Calliope didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was so tired of it she didn’t care. “I’m starting to get how you don’t like ‘I Wanna Be Sedated,’” she said. “I kinda don’t get why you like that one,” she indicated the damaged record in Milo’s shaking hands. “There’s so much tension in it. He’s not happy he likes whoever it is, he’s scared.”

Milo clutched the record against him and clenched his teeth so hard the mass of gum between them was clipped in two. He sort of wanted to cry — really weird crying, because Calliope wasn’t okay… but it was still her too. The baby and the hospital hurt her, but they didn’t change her. He wanted it to be okay right now and it wasn’t, but… maybe in a little while? If nothing else bad happened to her? Maybe?

He wasn’t sure about tension in the song, but there was a lot of tension in seeing Calliope like this — glad and tired and hurt in the hospital at the same time.

Slowly, perhaps unnoticed, he shook his head. Calliope, I am super sure you can be scared and happy and like someone all at once. That is a real thing a person can be.

The General cleared her throat and Milo broke the record in two. “Mr. Rose, if you do not wish to end this evening drenched by a fire bucket, I would suggest you dispel the red glow and the attachment spell.”

Milo stared at the record player, it was hovering and glowing over Calliope’s left shoulder. Huh? Do what now? He glanced down. I broke this record… Why are there so many people? Are they mad about the record…?

“Put down the bucket,” the General told the shorter nurse. She pushed her way past Mr. Rose and went to work on the record player. He seemed to have arranged things in an illogical way that made dispelling the magic more difficult.

“Calliope, can we see the baby?” Maggie said softly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Calliope said. “Do you want to hold her? I got this form to fill out.” She indicated another clipboard, with a pen tied to it, that was resting on the corner of the night table under the lamp. “They gotta stamp her and number her so she can open bank accounts, I guess.” She smiled and cast a glance back at the General.

“Wow, can I?” Maggie said.

“Gently, Magnificent,” the General said. “You must support the baby’s head. Let Hyacinth show you.”

Hyacinth happily accepted responsibility for the little white bundle. “Hey, look at her looking around. Aren’t you tired, kiddo?” The baby’s eyes were brown, like Calliope’s. “What a little trouper,” Hyacinth said admiringly, of both of them.

“She’s beautiful, Calliope,” Mordecai said.

“Well done,” the General added.

Maggie crept closer to look, and after a moment’s hesitation, Erik did too.

Aw, I guess that’s not too bad, he thought. It was pink. He wasn’t so sure about “beautiful,” or even “cute” like his uncle said before. It wasn’t like a kitten or anything… Or even exactly like a human being. But, yeah, the pink part. There was a fine down of brown hair with a swirl in it like whipped cream, wide brown eyes and a pursed, pouty mouth, and that was pretty much all you could see.

She looks grumpy, though, Erik thought. Then again, he guessed she was having a bad day like the lady at the front desk.

“She’s neat,” he opined, finally.

“Thanks, you guys,” Calliope said, beaming. She reached for the clipboard, then sat back with a wince. “Oh, damn it. Em, can you get that? My glasses are there too. I’m a little messed up… I think I said that. They kept giving me drugs, but not good ones.”

There was a crackle of breaking shellac.

“Milo, put the record down,” Hyacinth said in a low voice. He was going to cut himself like that.

Milo dropped the record — what was left of it — again and folded his arms around his middle.

Mordecai handed her the clipboard and the reading glasses, which she accepted with an uncomfortable expression. She shifted cautiously in the bed. “I have stitches in me,” she said. “Cin?” Her voice wavered. “Do I have to come back so they can get the stitches or can you do that?”

“I will do that,” Hyacinth said, with a glare in Mordecai’s direction. He turned away.

Calliope sighed. “Okay, I guess that’s not too bad.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and did not yet apply the glasses. “It was just so embarrassing, you know? Em? Do you think dying is like that? Embarrassing?”

“I,” he said. “I… I really don’t…” He had seen a lot of dying and gotten fairly used to it, but he’d never thought about that part. He remembered people being scared… and mad. Alba had been furious. He’d been afraid of her sometimes.

Maybe she was mad because it was embarrassing? Like when she couldn’t pick things up or move like she wanted? That made him feel… even worse, somehow.

“It depends very much upon the nature of the death,” the General offered her. “Ah.” She had finally disentangled the glow spell and the record player dropped obediently into her hands. “Shall I take this home with us, Calliope?”

“Yeah. Please. I shouldn’t play it in here, anyway, and I think they’re all mad at it.”

The General turned and glared where Calliope was looking. “I said put that bucket down, you fool. Why are you still here?”

Because there are, like, twenty of you in here and you’re all doing magic, the shorter nurse thought, but did not consider it prudent to say.

“Glorie? Will you take this home too?” Calliope reached into the pocket of her button-down men’s shirt, which was already unbuttoned, showing a T-shirt beneath — both of these were in white and not terribly obvious. “They almost got him away from me once already. They wanted me to put on this perverted nightgown with no back. They took my pants,” she noted, staring down at the blanket over her lower half.

She was holding a newspaper frog with a pink satin bow affixed to its back.

Milo snatched it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket before the General could even lift a hand.

Calliope smiled at him. “Thanks, babe. It was nice to have the company, but I don’t want them to hurt him. He’s just paper, he can’t stick up for himself.”

Milo nodded.

“Maybe you should name him Stephen,” Maggie offered with a grin. She was having her first go at holding a baby. They were heavier than they looked. Also floppier, maybe that had something to do with it.

“Huh?” said Calliope. “Why would I do that?” She had already positioned the glasses on her nose and she picked up the pen. “I mean, even if they were twins, they should have different names. They need to be independent.”

“Calliope, the baby is a girl,” said Hyacinth.

“Does it make a difference?” Calliope said.

Hyacinth considered that. “Well…”

The General put a hand on Calliope’s hand with the pen. “In the case of social situations, such as schools, and paperwork, such as job applications and passports, it does. Do not complicate your daughter’s life needlessly, Calliope. Name the baby Stephanie.”

“My dad’s not named Stephanie,” Calliope said, frowning. “I don’t know anybody named Stephanie. Why would I name her that?”

“What is your mother’s name, Calliope?” Mordecai put in.

“Huh? Oh. Rinswell.”

Everyone, even Milo, looked cockeyed at her. Hyacinth got the words out first this time, “Calliope, ‘Rinswell’ is a brand of soap flakes.”

Calliope nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t want to name her that either. Talk about complicating the kid’s life. It’s how come Mom couldn’t name the law firm after herself, she wouldn’t have been able to do any ads.”

Hyacinth did not feel capable of letting this particular issue slide, “Why is your mother named after soap flakes?” Mordecai reached over the bed and put a hand on her arm, which she shook off. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Yeah,” Calliope said. “I think Mom’s mom was too. And she just came over from Wakoku, and, you know, the writing isn’t the same. There was a box and she thought it looked pretty so she copied it. I guess they filled in all this other stuff for her.” She regarded the form.

“Father’s Name,” was it Christopher or just Christoph? She filled in “Chris.”

“Mom… my mom learned how to sign it like it is on the box,” she added. “It was something her mom gave her, you know? I guess that’s why she didn’t have it changed.”

“Your mom’s name is Rinswell… Rinswell Soap Otis?” Maggie said slowly.

“Rinswell Soap Flakes-Otis,” Calliope said, positioning each name separately in the air before her with a hand. “Her mom just copied the box. It should’ve been Fujita.”

“Rinswell Soap Fujita,” Erik said contemplatively.

“Mom, I don’t think it matters if she names the baby Stephen,” Maggie said.

“In the face of abject…” She did not want to say stupidity. “…Abject absurdity, we must nevertheless persist logically,” the General said.

“What about Mary?” a female voice piped up. “Mary is a nice name!”

Everyone turned to look.

“What are you still doing here?” the General snapped. “Have you no station? No rounds? Even if you lack a purpose, do you lack also the capacity to manufacture one? I don’t care if you need to go out and find the nearest patch of grass, dig a hole and then fill it in, take your bucket and go find something else to do!”

In the wake of this hurricane, the short nurse with the fire bucket scurried off.

The baby thrashed in protest and said, “Weh!” Maggie handed her off to Hyacinth again with a panicked expression. Hyacinth bounced lightly and patted the white bundle with a hand. “Oh, oh, oh. There. It’s okay.”

“I apologize,” the General said, not in the direction of the fleeing nurse. “I find this institution eminently frustrating, but that is no excuse.”

Calliope was considering with the pen in her hand. “Mary, huh? I guess it’s shorter…”

Now Mordecai put a hand on her hand. “Please don’t name the baby Mary. If she ever goes to school, there are going to be three other Marys and two Marias. They’re going to call her Mary O., and that sounds like one of those old ballads where everyone gets murdered.”

Calliope frowned and put down the pen. “You know, you guys are all way more worried about this than I am…”

“Not without reason,” the General muttered aside.

“Babe, do you have any cards left?” she asked Milo.

Milo blinked. Did she know I was eating them?

I think she probably assumes you gave them to people in the waiting room Milo…

Oh, I should’ve done that. Maybe they would’ve stopped staring at me so much.

I really doubt it, Milo.

Milo nodded and put a hand in his pocket. There were three in there, next to the frog, and he drew them out.

“Cool. Can I have ‘em? You smell like toothpaste and marmalade,” she commented when he handed them to her.

Milo nodded. He turned over the gum in his mouth.

Calliope tore each card in half. “Okay, you guys. Everyone pick a name and write it, then I’ll pick one of those, okay?”

Everyone seemed amenable to this.

Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than Rinswell Soap Flakes, the General thought. She, Hyacinth and Milo all had pencils to employ. Mordecai and the children needed to share the pen from the clipboard. Calliope took the baby back so they all had hands to write with.

Milo couldn’t write words, so he just drew a heart… For Calliope, not the baby. Although he wasn’t sure how to draw it so it excluded the baby specifically and Calliope might get mad at him if he tried. He glared at the baby. I am still super mad at you. Calliope and everyone better like you a lot because I won’t…

The baby glanced just briefly into his eyes, then poked out her tongue and blew a spit bubble.

Milo’s hands fell helplessly to his sides. Oh. Cute…

Didn’t Cerise say babies are cute like that so we won’t throw them away, Milo? Of course, I don’t think she likes them very much…

Don’t you dare throw that baby away, Ann.

No, Milo, I didn’t mean…

…If you throw that cute baby away, I will be so mad at you!

After a few moments’ grave consideration, the General wrote, Splendid in neat script and folded the scrap of cardstock down the middle. Perhaps she will be a better one.

There was a water glass, empty, resting on the night table next to a full vase. Mordecai collected all the responses in this, then put his hand over the top and shook it a few times. He offered it to Calliope and she selected a name.

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” she read.

“Magnificent!” said the General. That had been her daughter’s magic word, back in her toddlerhood when she was still doing verbal magic.

“I don’t think there’s room on the form,” Calliope said.

Maggie grinned. “I was just kidding, Calliope. You don’t have to name her that.”

Calliope discarded the folded paper and drew another one, “Coconut.”

“Magnificent!”

“I only did one, I swear!” Maggie said.

“She… looks like one,” Erik said, frowning.

“Erik,” Mordecai scolded, but much more gently.

“That’s super cute,” Calliope said. She smiled and picked up the pen.

Hyacinth stopped her and made the trifecta of responsible adults in the room, “No! Do not name that poor child Coconut Otis! It sounds like a disease!”

“Or a dessert,” Mordecai allowed with a snicker.

An exotic dancer, Milo thought. He made a small smile. Oh! She could come work at the Black Orchid!

Calliope sighed, rolled her eyes and drew yet another name: “Lucy.”

The General groaned and slapped a hand against her forehead. “Lucy is a nickname! Names are Lucille or Lucinda!”

“It is so a name,” said Mordecai. He thought it would be a good one for a bass, or a violin — but oddly, not a ’cello.

“I don’t like Lucille or Lucinda,” Calliope said with a wrinkled nose. “I like Lucy.” She filled in the form. “Glorie, you’re gonna hafta go find that nurse you chased off, I guess.”

The General emitted a low growl, shoved the record player at Mr. Rose, and stalked off.

Milo hugged the record player, supporting it from the bottom, as if afraid it might feel insecure about the way it was being held.

“Hi, Lucy,” Calliope said. She stroked the baby’s cheek and the little pink face shifted and turned towards her. “You see all my friends?” She removed the baby’s hand gently from the folded blanket and waved it, just the once. It opened and then clenched again.

Oh, so tiny, Milo thought. He almost wanted to say “intricate,” like the watches, but babies didn’t work that way.

It was starting to make him angry, really. Why do people work this way? Why do they come out so little like that? Anything could happen to her, what is she supposed to do?

Milo, remember Calliope wouldn’t like a baby with a brain the size of a walnut…

Well, there has to be some other way to do this! He lifted his glasses and swiped a hand under each eye, still clutching the record player with one arm. Where they don’t come out so little and easy to hurt…

“We’re gonna go home with them in a little bit,” Calliope went on. She hefted a ragged sigh. “Just not tonight.” She managed a smile, though a watery one. “It’s really awesome, though. Wait’ll you see all the puzzle pieces. You’re gonna have a lot of fun growing up there. Erik and Maggie can be your big brother and sister, and you’ll have lots of extra moms and dads!”

Mordecai lifted a finger of protest, “I think I’d rather stay an uncle, dear.”

“I’m happy as long as it’s not Grandma,” Hyacinth muttered aside.

“Oh, she can pick what to call you,” Calliope said, smiling. “I’m just talking about the function.”

Hey, I’m not the baby anymore, Erik thought. He mused on that for a few moments, then grinned and peered down at the new baby. I get to be in charge of you, Not-Coconut!

The General appeared with a nurse. Perhaps not the exact same one as before, but it was a nurse. She apparently had the authority to collect the form… and the lack of experience to insist the visiting family say their goodbyes and go home now.

Those children are far too young, she thought, eyeing Erik and Maggie. Why did they let so many people in here to begin with? Why is this chart on the floor? She collected it. Then she saw the record player and staggered a step back. Oh, my gods! It’s those people!

“We will leave when Calliope desires to rest,” the General said coldly.

“Vis-vis-visiting hours…”

“We will leave when Calliope desires to rest.”

“I guess I don’t mind doing that now,” Calliope said. “I’m sorry about the record player,” she offered the nurse. “Milo wanted me to have company. I think he forgot about the frog.”

“There… there is a frog in here?” She glanced around suspiciously. “…What’s happened to Sister Mary Dolores?”

“Do you wanna try for two frogs?” Hyacinth asked with eyes narrowed. The nurse blew out like a brief candle and they were allowed to make their departure from Calliope without further commentary. There were a lot of hugs and compliments for both mother and child.

Calliope removed her reading glasses, which were misty, sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Hyacinth and Joey Ramone warned me about this, but I still wish I could do something so they’d let me go home,” she said. She smiled weakly. “I guess we’ll be okay for a little while. You guys really better get Milo to bed. He might have work in the morning.”

They’re all named “Mary” in this place too, Milo was thinking, with a shell-shocked expression. Oh, no…

“Will be back soon, honey, okay?” said Hyacinth.

“Yeah,” said Calliope. She waved at them.

◈◈◈

They made it onto the very last bus and marched up Violena Street in the darkness like a victorious band of mercenaries from one of those very intense seven-day wars. No one dared hassle them for wallets or spare change, despite the ready cover between the gaslamps.

Barnaby met them at the front door. “There is no entry without ridiculous pamphlets,” he said.

Hyacinth handed him the bag. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

Barnaby emitted what might have been, in a younger person with altogether less dignity, a squeal of glee. “Is the one about David going straight to hell in here? I would love to share it with him.”

“David is in hell, Barnaby,” Hyacinth replied wearily. She nudged him out of the way, so the rest of the household could enter.

“Ah, yes,” said Barnaby. “We have reached the point of hideous wallpaper and no plumbing, I believe?”

Hyacinth sighed. It was so hard to tell when he was teasing her. It was a little like Calliope, except Calliope had no malicious intent. “Yes,” she said. “We have just gotten through with Calliope’s new baby and are proceeding as best we can from there.”

“There is a large mass of used chewing gum in this bag with the pamphlets,” Barnaby said.

Hyacinth sighed again. “I let Milo have the bag. I forgot you wanted it. I guess he was using it for trash. Are you bothered about it?”

“No, indeed,” Barnaby said. “But you really must speak to him about that oral fixation of his before Cousin Violet gets it into her head to choke him to death.” He removed the gum with a spare pamphlet and handed it to Hyacinth. She was tired enough to accept it. He scurried up the stairs before she could give it back, but he paused before he got to the attic, “How are they, anyway? Calliope and the baby?”

“It seems like they’re going to pull through, but I suppose you know that.”

“More or less,” he said with a wave. “But it’s nice to hear.”

Hyacinth smiled faintly. “Barnaby…”

“Yes, yes, Alice. I’m aware you find it adorable when I occasionally act like a human being. Try not to assign it too much significance, and get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” She climbed up the stairs to attempt just that. The gum in the pamphlet went very nicely on her dresser. She’d deal with it, and everyone else, later.