then the pain started, cramps in her gut, dreadful cramps, like being kicked in the belly over and over, she drank to ease the pain, the pain got worse and worse, feet kicking her in the belly, over and over,
endless, constant.
there was no one to call, would she die there, and still there was no
one to call, she tried to call the doctor, she dialed the number she
had been given, no answer, nothing, just feet kicking her in the belly,
her back almost broken from the pain.
contractions in her gut, she went to the bathroom, tried to get it
out, whatever it was, out, straining and straining, feet marching over
her and in her, Nazis, an army of Nazis, marching over her gut.
sweating, screaming, silent, standing or sitting or lying, straining
over the toilet, then it came out, in the toilet, a small, not human, not
anything, mass of membranes, like a lima bean, but all bloody, it
was something but what was it, nothing, nothing human, she looked
at it for a moment, repulsed, and then flushed the toilet.
the second time the doctor had come to her. an arranged signal, a
light bulb on and off 3 times in the window, he was very big, sloppy,
wore a hat. what would he do to her.
he spread newspaper on her bed. she lay, her back on the
newsprint, her legs hanging spread wide open over the edge of
the bed.
then, he began to scrape inside her. then, the pain, then, the searing, scaring, screeching pain, she must not yell, neighbors, police, she must not scream, no pills, no shot, scraping inside her, scraping
her inside out and outside in.
then, he took her legs, closed them, and lifted them onto the bed.
for a moment he stared at her, her face contorted in agony, her body
wanting to curl but not daring to move, would he, was he going to,
no, he turned to leave, then he was gone, what did he do to her,
would she die, and the pain, would it ever stop, and the bleeding,
would it ever stop, an army of Nazis inside her tramping tramping
goosestepping inside of her and all she could think of was, would
she die.
she had advanced herself, she had her own room now, filled with
things, quiet and dark, she had a closet full of dresses, enough for
any occasion a man would provide, she took more classes, in acting,
in voice, in movement,
the men were not nameless now, not shopkeepers either,
she had a good eye.
they were a different sort now, actors, writers, directors,
she knew how to move in, just enough,
she knew how to be there and to disappear at the same time,
when to disappear.
her smile, always ready, a mask, enigmatic or reassuring, whatever
was necessary,
her ambition began to enlarge.
she had read books, enough of them, still, one was always open on
her night table, she was conversant with acting theory, she
discovered that she had an intelligence and a tongue, she could
speak clearly and strongly, but not too often, never at the wrong
