it’s the indifference I have to manufacture.”
“Really?” Laurie questioned.
“Really,” Jack said, as he brushed some strands of damp auburn hair away from her forehead. “And about India. I have nothing against you going, I don’t know Maria Hernandez or her granddaughter, Jennifer. For me, flying halfway around the world just doesn’t make sense for the time or the money, but mostly the money. Of course, I’ll miss you, and I would go if you needed me.”
“Are you just saying that?” Laurie questioned.
“No. If you needed me, I’d go. That’s for certain but—”
“I do need you,” Laurie said, with sudden enthusiasm. “You are indispensable.”
“Really?” Jack said. His bushy eyebrows knitted together questioningly. “I can’t imagine how.”
“The cycle, silly,” Laurie said excitedly. “Yesterday Dr. Schoener thought it would only be four or five days before I give myself the stimulating shot and follicular release will occur. At that point it will be your turn at bat.”
Jack exhaled fully. In his mind the infertility issue had not meshed with the proposed trip to India.
“Don’t look so glum. Maybe we should count on dispensing with the turkey-baster part and do it the real way. But I’ll tell you something, with the effort and stress involved, I’m not going to have you sitting here and me in India when this current crop of follicles bursts. Dr. Schoener is particularly optimistic because the left ovary fronting my good fallopian tube is the one that’s going great guns this time around.”
Lifting his arm from Laurie’s shoulder and sitting back against the headboard, Jack said, “Looks like we’re in for a quick trip to India, provided our fearless second-in-command lets us go. Maybe I can bribe him to say no!”
Laurie playfully swatted Jack’s thigh through the covers as she got up. “I just had a good idea. Since I’m going to need an ob-gyn consult to follow my follicles and do my blood work, maybe I can find one in the same hospital, the Queen Victoria. It might be helpful with Jennifer’s problem if we had a friend on the hospital staff.”
“Could be,” Jack said, as he shimmied down under the covers and then pulled them up around his neck. “A question about logistics: If we need visas, we’ll be needing passport photos.”
“In the morning we can use that all-night shop with the photo section up on Columbus Avenue.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Jack said, after taking a deep breath and letting it out noisily.
“Are you going back to sleep?”
“Of course I’m going back to sleep. What else am I going to do after midnight?”
“I wish I could sleep like you can. The problem is, now I’ve gotten myself all worked up.”
Chapter 13
OCTOBER 17, 2007
WEDNESDAY, 11:42 A.M.
NEW DELHI, INDIA
Jennifer felt totally frustrated. Despite how exhausted she was, even to the point of being slightly nauseated, she could not fall asleep. She’d drawn the heavy lined draperies, so the room was dark enough. The problem was that she was overtired and excited at the same time. The idea that Laurie might come was almost too good to be true and had her mind buzzing. Finally she thought,
Dressed in only her panties, which was the way she’d gotten into bed, she went to the window and reopened the draperies, flooding the room with urban India’s hazy sunshine. Absently, she wondered how much hotter it would have been outside had all the pollution not blocked out a significant portion of the sun’s rays.
Looking down, Jennifer checked out the swimming pool. There were quite a few people enjoying it, although it was far from being crowded. It was a large pool. All at once Jennifer regretted not having brought a suit. It had never even crossed her mind when she’d packed for the trip, although now, looking down at the impressive expanse of blue water, it should have. After all, she knew she was going to a fancy hotel in a hot country. Jennifer shrugged. The idea they might have simple suits for sale occurred to her, but then she shook her head. As fancy as the hotel was, if they were to have suits for sale, they’d undoubtedly be designer and very expensive. It was unfortunate, because Jennifer thought some exercise might be just what the doctor ordered as far as helping her jet lag.
Thinking of exercise reminded Jennifer of the hotel’s gym. It occurred to her to put on jogging clothes, which she did bring, and ride a stationary bike and lift some weights. She was about to follow her own advice when she glanced at the time. It was closing in on noon, which gave her another idea: lunch. Despite the lingering mild jet- lag-induced nausea, she thought it best to try to normalize her diurnal eating pattern as a way of helping to deal with the completely topsy-turvy sleep situation.
Having no interest in impressing anyone that morning, least all of the Queen Victoria people, Jennifer had worn a simple polo shirt over fitted jeans to the hospital, and after her nap attempt, she pulled on the same clothes. As she did so, she had an idea to see if Mrs. Benfatti might be willing to have lunch with her. Of course there was always the chance the woman might be in deep mourning and very depressed and not wish to be seen in public. At the same time, such a possibility was an indication of the appropriateness of asking her. As a medical student, Jennifer had witnessed all too often how death and sickness could actually isolate people in our society just when they most needed support.
Jennifer picked up the phone before she lost her nerve. She had the operator connect her to Mrs. Benfatti’s room, wherever it was in the hotel. Jennifer briefly held the receiver away from her ear for a moment while it was ringing to see if Mrs. Benfatti’s room was close by. She heard nothing.
Just when Jennifer was about to hang up, the connection went through. A woman whose voice was rough and slow answered. Jennifer guessed she had been crying.
“Mrs. Benfatti?” Jennifer questioned.
“Yes,” Mrs. Benfatti answered warily.
Jennifer launched into a rapid description of who she was and why she was in India. She thought she heard Mrs. Benfatti draw in a breath when Jennifer explained that her grandmother had died in similar circumstances as her husband only the night before.
“I am so sorry about your husband,” Jennifer continued. “Given my grandmother’s death only the night before, I can truly sympathize with you.”
“I’m equally sorry for your loss. It is such a tragedy, especially being so far from home.”
“Why I was calling in particular,” Jennifer said, “is the hope that you might feel like having lunch with me.”
Mrs. Benfatti didn’t respond immediately. Jennifer waited patiently, fully understanding that the woman was probably engaged in an internal argument with herself. Jennifer imagined that she probably looked a wreck from crying and being depressed, which was a big argument for her to stay in her room. At the same time, she’d be intrigued by the coincidence and would jump at the chance to talk with someone who was in the same awful situation.
“I need to get dressed,” Mrs. Benfatti said finally, “and to do something with my face. I checked myself out a little while ago, and as the expression goes, I look like death warmed over.”
“Take your time,” Jennifer said. She liked this woman already, especially if she was strong enough to mock herself at a very difficult time. “There’s no rush. I can wait for you here or in one of the restaurants, say the main one just off the lobby, or would you prefer Chinese?”
“The generic restaurant is fine. I’m not very hungry. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’ll be wearing a violet blouse.”
“I have on a white polo and jeans.”
