In the Unlikely Event (40 page)

“No.” But she knew what was going to happen. He was going to put a speculum into her vagina. She’d read all about it last night. She was scared, but his nurse stood by her side and patted her hand. The speculum was cold and made her shiver, or maybe she shivered because she was scared.

“You’re not a virgin,” the doctor told her. “I doubt you’re going to fool anyone into believing you are, but you never know.”

“Actually, I’m married,” Christina said. “But nobody knows. We
eloped. I was a virgin until then.” Technically, this wasn’t true but she wanted this doctor to like her, to treat her well.

“You girls and your secret marriages,” the doctor said. “If I had a daughter who did that I’d never forgive her.”

What kind of father can’t forgive his daughter? She was glad he wasn’t her father. She believed Baba would forgive her anything. It was Mama she was worried about.

Dr. Strasser took out the speculum and felt around inside her with his hand, pressing down, making her even more uncomfortable. The nurse told her to breathe.

“I don’t see any evidence of a miscarriage. Everything looks fine. Would you like me to fit you for a diaphragm, Mrs….”

“McKittrick,” Christina said, trying it out. “And yes, I’d like a diaphragm.” She was so glad she’d read up on her choices last night. “Do you have your husband’s approval to use birth control?”

Her husband’s approval?
“Yes.”

“If you use it properly—and that means
every
time—you shouldn’t have to worry about being pregnant until you want to be.”

After she was dressed and seated in his office, he said, “I see you’re from Elizabeth.”

She nodded.

“Plane Crash City.”

“We don’t call it that.” She knew people who weren’t from Elizabeth did. Wasn’t there a story in the paper about letters to the editor addressed to Plane Crash City, New Jersey?

“Terrible,” he said. “A tragedy.”

“Three tragedies. And I saw two of them.”

He looked up. “That would give you more than enough anxiety to miss your period.”

“Yes.”

“Newark Airport being closed is a real pain in the neck for me. Every time I want to fly to a conference or take a vacation I’ll have to shlep into New York, all the way to LaGuardia or Idlewild.”

“I’m sorry,” Christina said.

He laughed. “You’re a nice girl, Mrs. McKittrick. Good luck in your marriage.”

“Thank you, Dr. Strasser.”

“And don’t forget.
Every
time.”

“What?”

“The diaphragm. It doesn’t work if you don’t use it.”

—

SHE ASKED HER PARENTS
if she could invite Jack to the house, just to say hello. “He rescued all those people from the burning plane.”

Mama and Baba looked at each other.

“We’re friends.”

“They’re friends,” Baba said to Mama.

Later, when the doorbell rang, Athena answered. “Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, Athena.”

“We were in the same year at school,” Athena explained to Mama and Baba.

“And now?” Baba asked Jack. “What do you do now?”

“Now I’m an electrician, sir.”

“Your parents are living?” Mama asked.

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Demetrious.”

“Family is everything,” Mama said.

“Yes, it is,” Jack said.

“You understand our Christina is precious to us,” Baba said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And she will marry a Greek boy someday. You understand that, too?”

“I understand your wishes for your daughter, sir. And I respect them.”

“Good,” Baba said.

Mama grabbed hold of Baba’s arm, as if to steady herself.

Athena tried to hide a smile.

—

THAT NIGHT
they made love using both her new diaphragm and a rubber, because she wasn’t sure she was using the diaphragm correctly. She found it complicated and messy. First you had to put in the jelly and rub it around, making sure you got enough over
the rim, then you had to squeeze it together and insert it into your vagina, getting it up far enough. She’d been practicing in her room at night. When she pulled it out she had to wash it, pat it dry and store it in its case, something else she’d have to hide, or maybe Jack would keep it. Yes, that would make sense. She supposed she’d get used to it. She supposed it would get easier. They were going to be married for a long time and she didn’t want to be pregnant every year like Mrs. O’Malley’s daughter, who’d already had five babies. But she still wasn’t relaxed about going all the way. She supposed she had to give it some time.

Elizabeth Daily Post

ROSENBERGS GET PASSOVER VISIT

APRIL 9 (UPI)—Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, sentenced to die for transmitting A-bomb secrets to the Soviet Union, received a pre-Passover visit at Sing Sing prison from their 5- and 9-year-old sons. Meanwhile, following today’s denial of their last plea to the Court of Appeals, the couple’s lawyer said that he would be filing an appeal with the United States Supreme Court.

29

Miri

Twice a week Miri sent a card to Natalie at the Watchung Hills Children’s Home.
Heard you were under the weather. Well, come on out!
Miri wasn’t sure Natalie would find any of the cards funny. Half the time
she
wasn’t sure they were funny. Sometimes she’d include a little note, trying to keep it light, something about school, or about a TV show.
Uncle Miltie dressed as Carmen Miranda Tuesday night. He wore a hat loaded with bananas, pineapples and grapes. My mother laughed so hard she almost didn’t make it to the bathroom in time
. She’d bought all the cards at once at the Ritz Book Shop, along with a copy of
Seventeenth Summer
. She and Natalie had read it together, at the beginning of eighth grade, and Miri hoped when and if she had the chance to give it to her, it would remind Natalie of their friendship, because Natalie didn’t answer any of Miri’s cards or notes.

Irene suggested inviting Mason to their Seder on the first night
of Passover, surprising Miri. Miri wore her new patent-leather slingbacks. Mason brought lilacs for Irene. They all missed Henry and Leah, who had gone to visit Leah’s parents. But Miss Rheingold was there and Blanche Kessler from the Red Cross with her family and Ben Sapphire.

Corinne called a few days later, another surprise, saying if Miri would like to see Natalie she would pick her up at school the next afternoon, if that was convenient for her.

That night Miri wrapped the copy of
Seventeenth Summer
and tied it with one of the ribbons from Irene’s collection. “She doesn’t know you’re coming,” Corinne said on the drive to Watchung. “She doesn’t want anyone to see her in this place but the doctors think it might be good for her to begin to reconnect to the outside world.”

“Is she coming home soon?”

“Maybe in time for graduation. Just act as if nothing’s changed. As if you’re still best friends.”

Aren’t we still best friends?
Miri thought, though she didn’t say it aloud.

The Watchung Hills Children’s Home, a big white house, sat on a hill surrounded by tall trees. The azaleas were in bloom. The grass was very green.

Inside, the halls were filled with music and children’s laughter.

Corinne stopped outside Room 218. She knocked on the door before turning the knob. “Everyone decent?” She didn’t wait for a reply.

Miri hung back, anxious, not sure what she’d find inside the room.

“Nat…look who’s here!” Corinne called, stepping back to make room for Miri. “I’ll leave you two alone to catch up,” she said brightly, as if there were nothing unusual about Miri visiting Natalie in this place. Then she disappeared.

From the look on Natalie’s face, first surprise, then anger followed by disgust or maybe embarrassment, Miri could see Natalie didn’t want her there any more than she wanted to be there.

“Hi,” Miri said, trying to make her voice sound as bright as Corinne’s.

“Hi.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.” Natalie’s voice had an edge to it.

In the other bed someone was sleeping. She had the covers pulled up so high almost her whole head and face were covered. One arm lay outstretched, attached to tubes.

Natalie was wearing regular clothes—dungarees, a shirt and a bulky cardigan sweater. She didn’t look any different to Miri than she had that day she went cuckoo in the basement. Well, maybe a little better than that, but not much.

“You were there that day, right?” Natalie asked.

“Which day?”

“That day I went to the hospital.”

“Oh, that day.”

“You’ll never believe who my nurse was.”

“Who?”

“Phyllis Kirk’s mother.”

“Phyllis Kirk, the actress?”

“Yes, isn’t that something? And she told me Phyllis is up for a big part in a Vincent Price movie. And it’s going to be in 3-D.”

“What does that mean?” Miri asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Now the figure in the other bed sat up. She was so thin Miri was sure she’d been in a concentration camp. Next to her Natalie seemed almost healthy. Natalie, at least, had some color in her cheeks.

The skeleton said, “You have to wear special glasses and it looks like things are jumping out at you.”

“How do you know?” Miri asked.

The girl shrugged.

“Lulu knows a lot,” Natalie said.

So, the skeleton had a name.

“How come they let you see a friend?” Lulu asked Natalie.

“I don’t know,” Natalie said.

“Friends can make you feel worse about yourself,” Lulu said.

“I don’t want to do that,” Miri told her.

“You don’t want to, but you might anyway.”

“Should I go?” Miri asked, hoping the answer was yes.

“Why don’t you just shut up for once, Lulu?” Natalie said.

Lulu laughed. “So are you from Plane Crash City, too?” she asked Miri, swooping her free arm around like a plane taking off, then coming straight down, onto her bed. “Boom!”

“Come on.” Natalie grabbed Miri by the sleeve and pulled her out of the room, then down the hall to a sunroom, where other kids had visitors, too. Many of the kids had braces on their legs. Some had crutches. Others were in wheelchairs, their legs straight out in plaster casts. “They had polio,” Natalie explained. “They’re learning to walk again. If you want milk and cookies they’re on a table over there.” She pointed across the room.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink milk or eat cookies.”

“Okay.” Miri helped herself to two shortbread cookies and a small cup of milk.

She sat down on a sofa next to Natalie.

“My hair is growing back.” Natalie said.

“I didn’t know you cut it.”

“I didn’t. It was falling out. From my condition.”

Miri was dying to ask,
What condition?
But she was trying to act ordinary, like it was just another day. “It looks good. Like always.”

“Lulu and I are the only freaks here. We didn’t have polio, and we don’t have cerebral palsy. What’s happening at school?”

Wait—what do you mean
freaks
?
Miri wanted to ask. Instead she said, “School…you know…the usual, except I was almost expelled.”

“You, Goody Two-Shoes? What’d you do?”

“Wrote a story for the paper Mr. Royer didn’t like, so I handed it out on my own.”
And I’m not Goody Two-Shoes
, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “The chorus is practicing for graduation. We’re singing ‘Younger Than Springtime.’ ”

“I hate that song.”

“It’s pretty sappy.”

“What about you…are you still in love with Mason?”

“We’re still the same.”

“Why won’t you admit you’re in love?”

Miri didn’t answer. Didn’t say she was afraid to call it love, although it was love, and not puppy love, either. It was something
much deeper now. Last week, in Irene’s basement, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. It bothered her that he never tried to get to second base, never mind third. Why didn’t he want to go any further with her? As an experiment she pulled her sweater over her head. His hands on her naked back were almost more than she could stand. But she didn’t stop there. She reached around and unhooked her bra, showing him her breasts. Neither one of them spoke for the longest time. Then he said, “What are you doing?”

“I want you to touch me.” She took his hands and placed them on her perfect A-cup breasts.

She could hear his breath quicken as he ran his hands over them. And
she
felt something, too, something down there, the way she did at night in her bed when she touched herself.

“It’s not a good idea,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, kissing him.

“Suppose I can’t stop?”

“I’ll stop you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I just wanted to make sure…”

“What?”

“That you like me
that
way.” She put her bra back on, pulled on her sweater.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I know you do.”

She couldn’t tell Natalie or anyone how much she cared. Probably Rusty once loved Mike Monsky, or thought she had. And look how that ended.