Marilyn is my co-worker. I sit at her desk almost as much as she does. Yesterday her baby son died in his sleep. He was four months old. We went to see her today at Marisol's house, where she and her daughter are staying to avoid being at home. We brought fried chicken and True See and Vonnessa said a lot of things about God's plan that I would have found patronizing, but apparently they were just the right things to say, since they were the things that Marilyn was thinking. Many of Marilyn's friends were there, and soaps were on TV, and the medical examiner called to confirm that it had been SIDS, and Marilyn's boyfriend came back with his friends from clearing the baby's things out of their apt. Everybody (except Jaelene) cried now and then, especially when somebody new came over or called and events had to be recounted.
���� In the last year and a half I've spent more days with Marilyn then not with her. She and I were stocking shelves in the food pantry when she first nervously admitted that she might be pregnant. Then she got big, and she started to eat a lot and throw up a lot, and eventually I did her job while she went and had the baby. When she came back to work, her boyfriend started stopping by in the afternoons sometimes. It was clear that they were enjoying being parents together so much, and it was just Thursday that I helped Marilyn scan a picture that had written on its back, "Jaelene Kiara, age 6; Antonio Luis, 3 weeks; My beautiful children."
���� Marilyn laughed and admitted that was corny, and three days later everything's so different.