Portraits (76 page)

One of the things that most helped him recover his spirits was that Michele was expecting. It seemed to Doris that the events of life rather balanced out. There were beginnings and endings. Michele said that if she had a little girl she would name her Rebecca, after Henry’s mother…

And this was an especially good time for Doris. She wrote more and better, magazines were beginning to approach her and ask to see her work. She needed little prompting, since the financial rewards were becoming increasingly greater.

On Friday nights, she observed the Sabbath with her children around her table. The first Passover the children were married was not only a large affair but an exciting one, celebrated with the Wolfs, Irene’s sister and brother-in-law and Henry’s family. At last Doris had a family. The joy of sitting in temple with her children and son-in-law was the fulfillment of a lifetime. She had almost forgotten the dreadful pain of having been exiled by her parents.

Thanksgiving came, and again it was at the house in Seacliff. Christmas—which they all considered merely a secular holiday—was at the Wolfs’…

In Michele’s sixth month a series of baby showers were given, and she seemed to blossom with her impending motherhood. Josh would lie in bed at night, put his hand on her tummy and feel his child gently kicking and moving about. “You know, honey, I have a feeling you’re going to be a little disappointed. I think you’re going to have to save the name Rebecca for another time. This one’s a little too active to be a girl.”

“So what do you suggest we call him—Dempsey?”

“Dempsey Wolf?”

“Well, it would certainly be different and we might even get a pair of autographed boxing gloves.” …

In Michele’s eighth month, she woke up one morning to find she had a few sharp pains and was spotting. Josh called Dr. Stevenson, who advised him to bring her to the hospital immediately.

“I’m scared, Josh,” Michele said quietly.

Trying to keep his voice even, he said, “Dr. Stevenson assured me there was nothing to worry about. Darling, please, don’t let this upset you…”

Apprehensively, she slipped into her coat and picked up her overnight case, and Josh drove her to the hospital.

While Michele was taken to a room, Josh called Doris. “Mom, I think you and dad should come to the hospital. What’s wrong with me? I haven’t prepared you for this, I’m so upset. I’m sorry. Michele had pains this morning and she’s spotting a little…I think you and dad ought to come over. I’d feel a lot better about it…”

Doris was about to walk out the door when it occurred to her that she hadn’t called Henry, and she hurried to the phone. “Michele’s in the hospital. Henry, tell me the truth, is it serious when a woman spots in the eighth month?”

“Well, it’s not such a good sign, but please stay calm. Everything’s going to be all right, I’ll meet you at the hospital…”

When Henry arrived he found an apparently calm Doris, and a very upset Joshua. Nothing he could say seemed to dispel Josh’s fears.

Finally Doris said, “Josh, if you don’t mind, I think your mother should be here.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“Would you like me to call?”

“Would you? I’d like to go in to Michele.”

The Wolfs arrived within the hour, and all that day they sat together, trying to reassure each other, in spite of their worries.

Dr. Stevenson arrived at five, and after examining Michele came out into the hall and told them that everything was going to be all right. However, he added, Michele should stay in the hospital for a few days.

Everyone relaxed. When Dr. Stevenson left they all went into Michele’s room to say goodnight and that they’d see her first thing in the morning. Then they left Josh and Michele alone together.

At nine o’clock Josh was asked to leave. He kissed Michele goodnight and went back to their apartment, where he poured himself a double scotch, sat in the livingroom and turned on the record player. Nothing, though, seemed to shut out the sound of Michele’s voice or the loneliness he felt without her.

At eleven o’clock he decided to turn in, but as he lay alone in the dark his thoughts kept him restless and wakeful.

He was still awake when the phone rang at three o’clock. “Mr. Wolf, I think you’d better come to the hospital.”

His heart thumped. What good would it do to ask a lot of questions? “I’ll be there immediately…”

When he got to the hospital and walked into Michele’s room, she was nowhere to be seen. He ran out into the hall and called over the first nurse he could find. “Where’s my wife—Mrs. Wolf? I just came from her room—”

From the look on her face, he knew something dreadful had happened. “I’ll have Dr. Harrison, our chief resident, talk to you.”

“Damn it, tell me what happened to my wife…”

Before she could answer, Dr. Harrison was standing in front of him. “Mr. Wolf, please sit down.”

“Tell me what happened to my wife…where is she?”

“She was taken to surgery—”

“Why, what happened?”

“Mr. Wolf, your wife was delivered of a stillborn child.”

The shock was so great that for a moment he merely stood speechless, unable to comprehend. When he recovered, he asked without looking at the resident, “And my wife?”

“She’s fine.”

“Thank God, when can I see her?”

“Well, it’ll be a little while, an hour or so…”

Although Michele was unaware of it, he held her hand as she was being wheeled down the hall on the gurney. He looked at her beautiful face, still unable to understand—or accept—how this had happened, but his chief feeling was that she had survived. He sat in her room, waiting for her sedation to wear off.

At seven o’clock that morning he called Doris, whose reaction was much the same as his. At first she was too stunned to say anything, then she said quietly, “I’ll be there right away, Josh.”

It wasn’t until after she’d hung up that she gave way to tears. Henry, for all his tenderness, could not begin to console her.

The two of them drove to the hospital, arriving at about the same time as Irene and Monroe Wolf. They didn’t know what to say to one another, but, indeed, what was there to say at such a moment.

Doris kept remembering how she’d given birth to Michele twenty years ago in the same hospital. How silly she’d been those first few days, thinking how ugly her baby was…Oh God, the things life does to people. How could she ever have guessed she’d be sitting here this morning with a greater pain than she’d ever known in childbirth…?

Josh came out of Michele’s room unshaven and disheveled, his tear-stained face showing clearly what he had been through in the past few hours.

Irene went to her son. “Darling, how is Michele?”

He had to clear his throat before the words would come. “Fine, thank God, thank God…” And then he began to cry. “It was a little boy…” Irene held him very close, the way she’d done when
he
was a little boy.

“Darling, why don’t you go home and get some rest? We’ll all stay—”

“No, I’m not leaving until Michele wakes up…”

They all sat and waited in silence.

At nine o’clock the nurse came out and said to Josh, “Mr. Wolf, your wife would like to see you.”

He followed her like a child. Opening the door quietly, he walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at Michele. When their eyes met, she said quietly, “We’ve lost our child.” And then she cried, “I lost your child…”

“Darling, the important thing is that you’re fine and well. Let’s not think beyond that.”

“Oh, Josh, I’m so sorry, I’m so terribly sorry.”

He couldn’t say a word, just held her tightly to him.

A week later Josh was able to take her home, and while he was at work either Doris or Irene would come to stay with her.

For two weeks, Michele refused to get out of bed. Her depression was so intense that she spoke to no one. No matter how reassuring Josh tried to be, her guilt was so great she couldn’t even look at him. And nothing he could say could bring her out of it.

A month had passed and by now Michele should have begun to accept the loss, but it was clear that she had not. She felt that she had let Josh down, that it was somehow all her fault.

Doris kept trying to jog her out of her depression…“Michele, darling, losing a child is a terrible thing for a woman, but you’re young and you can have other children. The time has come to start picking up your life. It’s been a tragedy, but it isn’t the end of the world…”

But nothing she said seemed to do any good.

Over the next few weeks Josh would come home from work and find that Michele had been drinking. She had also begun to take two Seconals to fall asleep at night, and when she woke up during the night and found herself unable to go back to sleep she’d take two more.

A pattern began to form and Josh was increasingly concerned. Finally one night he said to her, “Michele, when we lost the baby I think my grief was almost as great as yours, but I’ve learned to accept it. It’s happened to other people and there’s no reason we can’t have other children…”

Without looking at him she said with chilling calm, “I’m not going to have any more children.”

“But there isn’t any
reason
why you can’t. Dr. Stevenson assured me that physically you’re well and healthy—”

“Then why did I lose the baby? Eight months I carried that child…why did I lose him?”

“Darling, Dr. Stevenson explained that to you. And he also said that the best thing in the world for you would be to go ahead and have another.”

“No. I don’t want to take the risk. I’m afraid…”

Nothing he could say would convince her.

The next day he called Doris and told her about the barbiturates, the drinking, the depressions and that he frankly didn’t know how he was going to reach her…she just seemed inconsolable.

Doris went to see Michele that afternoon. When she entered she found her daughter lying on the livingroom sofa, drinking vodka. Doris took the chair opposite her.

“Michele, I’m not going to stand by and see you destroy yourself and your marriage—and that’s what’s happening. Just how much do you love Josh?”

“So much that I want to die…I feel I’ve failed him—”

“You haven’t failed him, and if you love him enough to die for him then you should love him enough to live for him. Michele, I’ve done something I wouldn’t ordinarily do, but I’m not going to let you feel this sorry for yourself any longer. You don’t seem to realize what’s happening between you and Josh, so I’ve taken the liberty of making an appointment for you to see Dr. Goldstein. He’s a psychiatrist and—”

“I’m not going to see any psychiatrist.”

“Why? Are you afraid you might find out something about yourself? Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did, Michele. You’ve had a terrible disappointment. All right. But that tragedy isn’t nearly as great as what’s happening to you now. If you love Josh and want to keep your marriage together, I suggest you get dressed and keep that appointment.” …

After three months of seeing Dr. Goldstein four times a week, Michele showed a remarkable recovery. Gradually she became the Michele of old. She no longer needed to be fortified with vodka, and the barbiturates were flushed down the toilet. Once again, thank God, she was able to make love the way they had in the beginning.

Josh now could consider when would be the best time to bring up the subject of having a child. Should they sit down over a cocktail before dinner in a dimly lit restaurant? Or during lovemaking? If he did the latter, though, she might feel he’d tricked her.

One night he kissed her gently and ventured, “Michele darling, I think tonight might be a good time to start a family.”

She tensed and drew away from him. But she couldn’t go on denying Josh forever. Besides, she wanted a child too and she wanted to make up to Josh for what she felt she’d deprived him of…so, in spite of her fears, which had never left her, she said, “Yes, darling, I think the time has come…”

Michele called Josh early in the afternoon at his office. “Darling, since tomorrow is your birthday, would you mind terribly if the two of us spent it alone together?”

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday—in fact, every day.”

“Your mother won’t feel hurt, will she?”

“You know her better than that. But are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out?”

“No, I want to spend it with you alone, just the two of us.”

Josh wasn’t aware of it, but Dr. Stevenson had told her that morning that she was pregnant. Tomorrow would be the perfect day to tell Josh…

When he came home the next evening, the house was filled with the aromas of the dinner she was preparing. Michele was exuberant. She embraced her husband with a vigor that he’d been pleased to know many times in their marriage, but somehow he knew that tonight was very special.

When they sat down together for a drink, there was a fire glowing in the grate and Michele had put some melodic music on the record player. They discussed his day, which he said had not been easy…he had one particularly difficult client who kept changing her will every time a member of her family fell from grace. Her grace, that is. Michele was bursting to tell him her news, but she was waiting for the perfect moment. Excusing herself, she went to the kitchen and put the roast duck
à l’orange
stuffed with wild rice on a platter, surrounded it with an array of vegetables, placed it on the brass serving cart and wheeled it into the diningroom. The silver champagne bucket was next to Josh’s chair. The candles were lit. It was perfect. She went into the livingroom, kissed him and led him by the hand into the diningroom. Her eyes reflected the flickering candles.

She waited excitedly as he poured the champagne into the hollow-stemmed glasses. Then she held up her glass to him. “Happy birthday, darling. I have a present for you…but I won’t be able to give it to you for another eight months.”

He got up and took her in his arms, then almost reverently held her face in his hands. “Thank you, darling. That’s the greatest gift any woman can give a man.” …

From that day on, Michele did everything very cautiously. She decided not to drive. Her morning exercises were suspended, she held on to banisters, avoided crowds, braced herself while riding in the car. Each month that passed made her feel a little more secure—