customary for the three of them to have coffee together before rehearsal.
Jennifer worked her way out of her coat, rolling it up in a large ball and depositing it on the floor next to the wall.
On top she plopped her limp cloth bag. By the time she sat down, Peter, the Austrian waiter, was at the table, asking if she wanted the usual. She did. Cappuccino and croissant with butter and honey.
After she’d sat down, Candy leaned forward and said, “We have good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?”
Jennifer looked back and forth between the two women. She wasn’t in the mood for joking, but Cheryl was staring into her espresso cup as if she’d lost her best friend. Jennifer knew her as a rather melancholy twenty- year-old with a weight problem which seemed of late to be getting worse. She had pixieish features with a small upturned nose and large eyes.
Her disheveled hair was a dirty blond. In contrast, Candy was strikingly immaculate in her appearance, her blond hair twisted neatly into a French braid.
“Maybe you’d better tell me the good news first,” said Jennifer uneasily.
“We’ve been offered a CBS special,” said Candy. “The Jason Conrad Dancers are going big time.”
Jennifer tried to act excited, although she realized she’d probably be too far along in her pregnancy for television.
“That’s terrific!” she forced herself to say with enthusiasm.
“When is it scheduled for?”
“We’re not sure of the exact date, but we’re supposed to tape the show in a few months.”
“So, what’s the bad news?” asked Jennifer, eager to change the subject.
“The bad news is that Cheryl is four months pregnant and she has to have an abortion tomorrow,” Candy stated in a rush.
Jennifer turned to Cheryl. “I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”
“No one did,” added Candy. “Cheryl kept it a secret till she heard that I’d had an abortion. Then she confided in me, and it was a good thing she did. I sent her to my doctor, who suggested amniocentesis because Cheryl said she’d been doing drugs right through her second month. She hadn’t realized she was pregnant.”
“What did the test show?” asked Jennifer.
“That the baby is deformed. There’s something wrong with its genes. That’s what they look for when they do an amniocentesis.”
Jennifer turned back to Cheryl, who was still staring into her expresso, trying not to cry.
“What does the father think?” asked Jennifer and then was sorry, for Cheryl put her hands over her face and began to sob bitterly. Candy put her arm about Cheryl as Jennifer glanced around at the nearby tables. No one was paying attention. Only in New York could you have such privacy in a public place. Cheryl took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose loudly.
“The father’s name is Paul,” she said sadly.
“How does he feel about your having an abortion?” asked Jennifer.
Cheryl wiped her eyes, examining a dark smudge of mascara on the tissue. “I don’t know. He took off and left me.”
“Well,” said Candy, “that gives us a pretty good idea about how he feels. The bastard. I wish men could take on the burden of being pregnant, say every other year. I think they might be a little more responsible if that were the case.”
Cheryl wiped her eyes again, and Jennifer suddenly realized how terribly young and vulnerable the girl was. It made the problem posed by her own pregnancy seem small in comparison.
“I’m so scared,” Cheryl was saying. “I haven’t told anyone because if my father finds out, he’ll kill me.”
“Well, I hope you’re not going to the hospital by yourself,” said Jennifer with alarm.
“It won’t be so bad,” said Candy with some assurance. “I’d been worried before my abortion, but it went smoothly. The people at the Julian Clinic are outstandingly warm and sensitive. Besides, Cheryl will have the world’s best gynecologist.”
“What’s his name?” asked Jennifer, thinking that she could not say the same about Dr. Vandermer.
“Lawrence Foley,” said Candy. “I’d been turned on to him by another girl who had to have an abortion.”
“It seems like he’s doing a lot of abortions,” said Jennifer.
Candy nodded. “It’s a big city.”
Jennifer sipped her cappuccino, wondering how to tell her friends that she herself had just found out she was pregnant.
She postponed the moment by turning back to Cheryl and saying, “Perhaps you’d like it if I went with you tomorrow.
Seems to me you could use some company.”
“I’d love that,” said Cheryl, her face brightening.
“Not so fast, Mrs. Schonberg,” said Candy. “We have rehearsal.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Well, I have some news myself. I found out yesterday that I’m two and a half months pregnant myself.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Candy.
“Oh, yes!” said Jennifer. “And when I tell Jason, he may not care whether I come to rehearsal or not.”
Candy and Cheryl were too stunned to speak. In silence, the three finished their coffee, paid the bill, and set off for the studio.
Jason was not there when they arrived, and Jennifer felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. She removed her outer clothes and found a free area on the dance floor.
Turning sideways, she lifted her sweatshirt so that she could see her profile. She had to admit that she already showed a little.
• • •
Adam washed his hands in the men’s room on the first floor of the hospital complex. Catching a glimpse of his haggard face in the mirror, he realized he looked exhausted. Well, maybe it would make the dean more sympathetic. After his disastrous meeting with his father, Adam had decided his only recourse was an additional student loan from the medical center. Straightening his frayed button-down collar, he thought he certainly looked poor and deserving, and that he should go directly to the dean’s office before he lost his courage.
Bursting into the secretary’s office to demand an appointment, Adam was almost dismayed when the woman said she thought the dean had a few moments between appointments. She went in to check. When she returned, she said Adam could go right in.
Dr. Markowitz stood as Adam crossed his office threshold.
He was a short, stocky man with dark curly hair not unlike Adam’s. He had a deep tan, even though it was just March. He approached Adam with his hand outstretched. When they shook hands, his other hand grasped the back of Adam’s.
“Please, sit down.” The dean gestured to a black academic chair in front of his desk.
From his chair Adam could see a manila folder with his name on the tab. Adam had met the dean only a few times, but each time Dr. Markowitz had acted as if he were intimately aware of Adam’s situation. He had obviously pulled the file in the minute or two Adam had been kept waiting.
Adam cleared his throat. “Dr. Markowitz, I’m sorry to take your time, but I’ve got a problem.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” said Dr. Markowitz, although his smile relaxed an appreciable amount. Adam recognized that the dean was more politician than doctor. He had an unhappy feeling that this meeting would be no better than the one with his father. He crossed his legs and gripped his ankle to keep his hands from shaking.
“I just found out my wife is pregnant,” he began, watching Dr. Markowitz’s face for signs of disapproval. They weren’t subtle. First, the dean’s smile vanished. Then his eyes narrowed as he folded his arms guardedly across his chest.
“Needless to say,” continued Adam, trying to keep up his courage, “this is going to put us in a financial bind. My wife and I depend on her income, and now with a child on the way . . .” Adam’s voice trailed off. You didn’t need to be a fortune-teller to know the rest.
