Breathe No More My Lady

We sat there, holding each other tightly, Michele sobbing and moaning so I thought she was having a breakdown. I got her to tie on the couch. She kept trembling, her skin terribly pale, her eyes staring but not seeing me. I phoned a doctor, then sat beside her and held her hand.

He said Michele was suffering from fatigue and shock, gave her a sedative. I had explained what it was all about and before she dozed off he told Michele, “Mrs. Connor, while I don't want to low-rate French rabbits there isn't any way you could have been positive you were pregnant. Do you hear that? It's actually impossible to tell—in the first weeks. I want you to forget what's happened, get some rest for the next few days. You look like a very healthy young woman and while one can't give any guarantee in this sort of thing, I think you'll have children.”

He took me into the kitchen and gave me a couple of prescriptions to have filled, told me, “Your wife must have absolute rest for a day at least. No company and no arguments. I don't want her upset. This isn't serious, but in her state, another shock could have serious consequences. You ought to rest, Mr. Connor. You seem pretty upset yourself.”

“I'm okay. Listen, Doc, I—” But I didn't have the nerve to ask him.

“What is it?”

“I... eh... wondered if she needed vitamins,” I said stupidly.

“One of the items I prescribed is a tonic. Don't worry and get a smile on your face. It's your reaction that adds to her feeling of guilt about the miscarriage. Don't awaken her, even to give her the medicines. The both of you need a relaxed atmosphere around here. Stop worrying. I'll phone you tomorrow.”

“Is it okay to leave her alone now? I mean, can I go to the drugstore?”

“Yes, she should sleep for hours. In a day or two I want you to both get out of the house, take in some shows, go away for a few days, if you can. Above all, stop blaming her for losing the child.”

“Blame Michele? I told you I don't care about a—”

“Look at yourself in the mirror, Mr. Connor. Your face is full of anger. Best medicine for your wife is for you to relax.”

Soon as he left I went out and got the medicines. I was damn sure about one thing—I had to settle things with Wilma. I had to impress upon her Michele couldn't stand another shock, that she would have to work out something. It was only three and I walked up and around the living room, knowing Wilma wouldn't be home for at least another hour. Then I just couldn't take it, I had to see her now. I phoned Joel Hunter, trying to think of what excuse I could give him to ask for the address of Wilma's employer. Wilma answered the phone.

I said, “Look, it's damn important I see you at once. Can I meet you someplace?”

“Come over here, I'm not dressed. What's this about?”

“Joel around?”

“No. He's out getting some data on the Bronx Zoo. Really, Norm, you sound like—”

“I'll be over in a few minutes.”

I got the janitor's wife to stay with Michele, told her I had an urgent business appointment. I picked up a cab at the corner and within 15 minutes Wilma was opening the door for me. She was wearing a crazy colored robe and slippers. As I walked in she said, “I'm as curious as the famous cat. Now what is....?”

“You alone?”

“My, aren't we being mysterious for ourselves. Yes, I am alone.”

We walked down the long hallway and into the living room and I was trying to think how the hell I would ask her. All I could come up with was a blunt, “Wilma, are you pregnant?”

Her face froze in an absolute double-take. She fell into a chair, roared with laughter.

I stood over her. “Damn it, are you?”

“Down, boy. I was going to offer you a shot, but you're loaded.”

“Sure, it's all a big prat fall, a stage joke! listen, Joel said you were feeling sick, morning sick...”

“Oh, for... I've had a cold. That's the only thing I got that night on the beach. Really, for a smooth character you wash terribly simple.”

I turned away, stared out the window at some dirty roofs. “No, it will turn out that you are, it's practically in the script.”

“Aren't you full of happy thoughts! Imagine me being with child, as the saying goes. Norm, when I'm ready, I'll have a kid. Now, let me tell you the facts of life. When I found out Joel was going to hide out in that goddamn room, well, it was the first time he'd done that—I mean on a several day spree—in years. It made me sore to have him out of my reach. I decided—before I ever knew about your wife—that I'd go out and have an affair, sort of get even with Joel. I don't know if I actually would have done it or not. This may shock you, but I'm really not a pushover.”

“Who said you were?” I mumbled.

“The point is, I took a pill that afternoon, a little medical wonder that leaves the woman sterile for 48 hours. So that's that.”

“No, it isn't. Look, we—I didn't take any precautions. It's only been a week, you can't be certain. I've had this hunch about you being—”

“You'd better not try the races with your hunches, Buster Brown, I happen to be home this minute because I've had the curse since shortly after the fights on TV last night—to pin it down for you.”

“My God, you do?”

“Norm, are you a well boy? I mean it.”