After the Fire (7 page)

For instance: There was the time when she had wanted to see an opening exhibit at the museum, and Gerald had refused to go with her.

“It's only a half-hour drive,” she had argued, “and those paintings are on loan from the National Gallery. You don't want to miss it, do you?”

“To tell the truth, I do. I really couldn't care less about paintings, Hy.” He had looked sheepish. “I just pretended I cared.” Continuing, as he saw how startled she appeared, he said, “You should be flattered. It was only my way of getting to you.”

For instance: When she was cooking, and she did seem to be doing a good deal of cooking, she liked to listen to music on the kitchen radio. One day, catching his grimace when he came home, she asked him what was wrong.

“It sounds like a lot of loud noise to me.”

She answered mildly, “It's beautiful. It's Mozart.”

“I suppose you come by it rightfully. Your father was always listening to that stuff.”

“I guess I do, but I'll turn it off when you're home.”

Standing there with a spatula in her hand, her feelings
were mixed. In one sense, she was a very little bit annoyed, while in another, she knew she had no right to be. For this was his house, too, and if this kind of music annoyed him, he should not have to hear it, should he?

Well then, they had different likes and dislikes, that was all. The only surprising thing was that he had concealed his for so long. But marriage, at least now at the start, was bound to reveal a series of surprises, until through long years two people finally grow together— or, she told herself more realistically,
almost
grow together.

Secluded honeymoons cannot last indefinitely, either. Living as Gerald did in the heart of a great, busy hospital, he had made many friends. Hyacinth had had no idea how sociable he was. Gradually, their apartment became a Saturday night gathering place. Plainly, she saw that he had already won a position of leadership in the group; his mind was respected and his personality was alluring. In a subtle way, it had expanded before her eyes.

Recognizing his enormous pleasure in all this, she was touched. Their apartment was his pride, for most of the other young couples were, as they themselves described it, “camping out,” and also “eating out.” Here, on the other hand, was fullness of color and comfort, along with appetizing refreshment.

“They never get food like yours,” Gerald said.

“Well, you can thank Granny. She taught me.”

Hy, too, took pride in being the hostess at these lively evenings. Yet after a while, she began to wish that there were not quite so many of them, or that she could take
more of a real part in them. For the conversation rarely moved away from things medical, veering from serious subjects to simple gossip about somebody who happened to be absent. Most often, then, she found herself a silent observer, a listener and watcher, following the interplay of temperaments, a rivalry between two men or an incipient attraction between a man and a woman.

“You're curious about the world, aren't you?” Gerald had once remarked. “You notice everything. Thinking, thinking, all the time, trying to figure it all out, aren't you?”

Yes, that was true. She did notice things, and very carefully, too. As the seasons progressed through fall and their first winter, she formed opinions about every one of these frequent visitors. And since it was her nature to like most people, or at least to dislike very few, she had taken a dislike only to one, a doctor named Elizabeth and called Bettina. She was not a classic beauty, but she was startling, and she knew it. She could not help but know it, and that she was no favorite among women. It was only to be expected.

At their very first meeting she greeted Hy with this remark: “So you're the wife of that beautiful man! You should have heard the nurses the day he walked in! He's going to have a fabulous practice, oh yes! He has irresistible charm, along with his brains.”

Charm, indeed. Before their marriage, Hy had never seen Gerald as a member of any group, and so it was a new experience to hear these tones of voice and see these facial expressions. He had a different laugh recently, an infectious chuckle, and in his eyes a new, mischievous,
knowing twinkle, as if his beholder and he had a secret between them.

Then on an effervescent evening not long afterward, Hy heard a woman's voice at her ear: “You're very patient. Patient and tolerant.”

Startled, Hy followed her glance to where Gerald and Bettina were standing and had long been standing together in the hall.

“But I suppose you're not really bothered. Bettina will never leave that fat husband of hers, or even risk any real fun on the side. He's positively loaded, and she loves the life he gives her.”

Hy, feeling a furious flush mount to her cheek, answered stiffly, “I'm not sure what you mean by patience and tolerance.”

The other woman, an occasional member of the group, gave a casual shrug. “Just sitting there and letting him humiliate you is what I meant.”

The woman had had too much to drink, and Hyacinth walked away. “I do not feel humiliated,” she said, wishing that the whole lot of them would go home.

She was confused. Was it a humiliation? Was she being a prig, a foolish prude? Was she having a rebirth of the old “Martha” syndrome? If so, she must put an end to it….

Much later, after Hyacinth had brushed her teeth and readied herself for bed, the incident still rankled. Dressed in transparent violet silk, a typical gift from Francine, she went to the full-length mirror, lifted the gown, and examined herself. Her body was slender, yet well curved; her face was pleasing enough, but she was undistinguished
. When she appeared, heads did not turn as they turned toward Dr. Bettina.

Gerald stepped through the door and laughed. “What are you doing, posing there? Satisfied with yourself, I hope?”

“That's not the question. Are you satisfied with me? That's the question.”

“Hey, what's your problem, Hy?”

“I'm comparing myself with—with that woman Bettina.”

“Oh, for God's sake!”

“We need to be honest with each other.”

“I thought we always were honest.”

“Oh,” she cried, “jealousy is so—so
low
! It humbles me.”

His eyes darkened, met hers, and held the look. This look of his, earnest, beseeching, and a little sad, she recognized.

“Darling Hyacinth, I'm sorry if I've hurt you, but you're being very, very silly. As if anybody could measure you against a total zero, a clotheshorse, a cheap flirt! Come on to bed. Don't be an idiot. Come on, or I'll drag you in. It's going on one o'clock.”

For long minutes she lay with her face buried in his shoulder, in the beloved flesh, while he murmured into her hair.

“Dear Hy, so sweet, so smart, and such a fool. An innocent. Isn't that what Francine calls you?”

She was filled with yearning. Her heart, her throat, her whole body wanted to blend with his, to become one with him.

“I would die for you,” she whispered.

“No, no, don't say that.”

“Yes, I would. Do you remember that woman on the
Titanic
? Straus was her name, Mrs. Straus. They wanted to put her in a lifeboat, but she wouldn't go. She wanted to die with her husband. I would have done that, too.”

“And I would have pushed you into the lifeboat. So that's enough of that talk. You know what you and I need?” His hands, warm and strong, pulled at the silk gown. “Take this fool thing off, will you?”

I
t was a mild afternoon in their second fall, so different from the chill, brisk weather of Massachusetts, that Hyacinth, talking on the telephone to a friend at home, had needed to remark as usual on the difference.

“They call it cool weather. It's down to eighty. Can you imagine? And football has started very, very seriously. The rivalries are like France against Germany in a world war. But it's all such fun. People are so informal here, so friendly, even in a big city. Oh, and I've learned all the words to ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas!”’

In this mood of well-being, she entered a doctor's office; half an hour later she left it, overwhelmed by surprise and wearing an uncontrollable smile.

“No method is a hundred percent reliable,” the doctor had said. He, too, was smiling. “June is a good month to have a baby, before the worst of the heat, if we're lucky.”

Obstetrics, she thought, must be for the most part a happy specialty. She seemed to be walking on springs, bouncing with every step. Bubbles in her chest popped in effervescence, like a champagne cork and the laughter that comes with it.

It was only four o'clock, which left two hours to contain her excitement until Gerald would be home. She wanted to sing, or stop some passerby, anyone at all, to tell the amazing news. One would think that civilization must come to a halt because of this baby. They had not planned to start a family until Gerald's stint at the hospital was over, and now this! But never mind; this baby was simply in a hurry to see the world. And she walked on, observing babies in carriages and strollers as she had never done before.

She had to buy something, had to commemorate this day. So she went on a spree, and when she returned to the parking lot, her arms were full of her purchases: a gigantic stuffed panda, a bouquet of asters, a bottle of real champagne, and a little cake.

Once home, she remembered that tomorrow her parents were coming. They were on the second leg of their visits to their sons and grandchildren. Next year at this time, they would have another grandchild to visit. We should get a better camera. This cake is too small. How could she have forgotten about tomorrow? In the morning she must run out and get another cake. Or maybe bake one if there was time. Home baking was always better, more welcoming. And another bottle of champagne. Hurried, disconnected thoughts like these went
rushing through her head, while she set out the plates for supper and arranged the asters.

“What's this?” asked Gerald at sight of the panda, which was occupying a corner of the sofa.

“Guess?”

“Another baby in your brother's family?”

“Well, not exactly. Not in his immediate family.” And she began to laugh.

He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

She was enjoying the suspense. “I saw Dr. Lilly today.”

“Lilly? Ob-gyn?”

“Of course. Oh darling, it's to be in June! I wasn't sure enough about it to tell you without first hearing it from him. But it's true.”

Gerald took off his jacket and laid it precisely as always, without causing a wrinkle, across the back of a chair. For a moment he said nothing.

“Are you so absolutely stunned that you can't talk? You remind me of those funny old movies where the wife breaks the news and the husband faints, and—”

“Stunned? I guess I am. This isn't exactly the most convenient time, is it?”

His face! His lips drew a thin, mean line between his cheeks. She could not take her eyes away from it.

“Are you sure?” he demanded. “Was Louie positive?”

“That's a funny question. Of course he was.”

All her strength was flowing out below her knees. They shook, and she sat down at the table, still clutching the asters.

“I don't understand,” she said. “I thought you would be so glad!”

“Well, I'm not. Not here and now. Be sensible, Hy. The timing couldn't be more inconvenient. I've got almost two more years before I finish here. This apartment is too small for a crib, a carriage, wet diapers, and—for God's sake, let's do something about it and wait till the right time, as we planned. For God's sake, please.”

Her heart was pounding so fiercely that she could hardly speak. “ ‘Do something?’ What can you possibly mean?”

“Don't talk like an ignoramus, will you? This innocence of yours gets to be a little too much sometimes, a little too cute, Hy. What do you think I mean?”

She had such a queer feeling of unreality!
Is this happening
? she thought.
I don't know how it can be happening, these words coming from his mouth.
He of all the people in this world. He.

“An abortion,” she whispered. “You're asking me to do that.”

“It's only the timing, don't you see? It's all wrong, it doesn't fit. We can have kids later. Be reasonable, Hy, instead of sentimental.”

“Sentimental?” she repeated. “My baby—our baby. And you don't want it. And I'm sentimental?”

She burst into tears and, jumping up, slammed so hard against the table that the champagne bottle fell and shattered on the floor.

“Watch out! Don't step on the broken glass,” he shouted.

“What the hell do you care about broken glass? You don't love me! If you did, you would love our child, too. You wouldn't ask me to kill it. We're young, we're healthy, we're not starving, we're not in a concentration camp! An abortion—my God, you should be ashamed! How can you—”

Gerald closed the window with a bang. “Temper! Temper again. The whole neighborhood doesn't have to hear this.”

“I don't give a damn whether it does or not! Let everybody know that my heart's breaking, that you're breaking it. Let the whole world know what you are.”

“Wait a minute, calm down, Hy. There's no sense—”

But she had already run to the bedroom. The door crashed and the wall shook. Weeping and shaking, she dropped onto the bed; then suddenly queasy, she ran to the bathroom to be sick. When she went back to the bed, she lay in a fog, in despair, as if her very heart had collapsed.

Hours later, when she awoke, the room was dark. She was still dressed in her sweater set, and Gerald was asleep at the farthest reach of the enormous bed. For a few moments, she stood there looking down at him. So you marry in total trust, and then one day, in one minute, the total trust is breached and what you're left with is only bitter, bitter anger. Quietly she went out and undressed in the bathroom. Her eyes were slits between swollen lids and pale, puffed cheeks. Her face was hideous. If only there were some way of calling Francine and Dad not to come tomorrow! But how, and with what excuse? It was impossible.

But no, nothing was really impossible. She spoke aloud to herself: “Nothing. It's simply a situation that has to be met. Somehow.”