Flo shoots him a look and flips back my top sheet. Then she turns my body with one hand while whisking the bottom sheet out from under me like a magician pulling a tablecloth.

“Here.” Pierre offers Flo my chart.

“Just leave it please.”

“Right. Goodnight then,” Pierre says over his shoulder as the door swings shut behind him.

Flo B. (as her name tag reads) unbuttons her red wool coat and goes into the bathroom. She reenters with two pans of water that she clanks down next to my bed. Tossing back spidery hair extensions, she throws her coat over the chair, revealing her pink-heart nurse’s uniform. Humming, she begins my bath, washing my face, swabbing each of my ears, and moving slowly down my neck and shoulders, patting me dry along the way. Purposefully but gently, Flo hoists my body on its side, careful not to disturb my IVs, then pulls down the top portion of my gown. Avoiding the tape around my ribs, she washes in circles where my breasts are free of bandages. As the soapy spirals near my areolas, my nipples stiffen reflexively.

Flo stops, shakes her head, and steps back, perhaps waiting to see if my other body parts will spring to life. Then she reaches the cloth between my legs and gives a prudent one, two, swipe. With a grunt of satisfaction, she swaddles me in fresh sheets, empties the wash pans, retrieves her coat and pocketbook, and hurries out the door.

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

INT. MALIBU COLONY HOME

1969 – 1974

The day of my arrival marked the departure of Vi, who was even less keen on caring for me than for my mother. And if Merilee had any notions of being a full-time mom, they were put to rest within several days of nursing and changing diapers.

I was just three weeks old when Anna came to live with us. Newly emigrated from Guatemala, she was young and innocent with smooth, creamy skin like the inside of an almond. Like me, she was a recent arrival and spoke no English. We had everything in common.

The only thing I shared with my mother was that we both drank from a bottle.

As I lay in my bassinet, shrouded in pink lace and sucking on my pacifier, my mother and father scrutinized me, their brows knit and furrowed.

“She’s got your nose, Sidney,” Merilee blamed, shaking her head at my father.

“And your personality,” my father shot back. “All she does is lie there. Shouldn’t she be doing more by now? Maybe we should have her tested?”

But when Anna looked at me, all I saw in her black eyes was the glow of love and pride. All day long, she coddled and cuddled and cooed at me, kissing my belly, my cheeks and toes. Anna had no friends, no family in Los Angeles. I was the center of her universe and she was mine.