“What makes you think she wants to see you?” he demanded. “What makes you think she won’t greet you at the door with the same knife she used on Nix?”
“That’s what Lili said.”
“Well, for once Lili is right. I know Beebo; she’s crazy. You catch her on a wrong day in a wrong mood and she won’t even think about it. She’ll just operate on you as she did on the dogs.” He gazed unblinking at her. “That would kill me, Laura, as sure as it would you. Besides, I can’t take any chances. You might be carrying my child.”
This struck fury into Laura. She had nearly managed to forget the child, in the press of other things, but no longer. She picked up a pair of his shoes, sprawled near the closet, and flung them at him, one after the other. One flew through the window, splattering glass in its wake, and the other struck his arm.
“Why do you torment me?” she shouted. “Why do you talk about nothing but baby, baby, baby? I never wanted the damn thing! I hope I never have a baby! I hope I never have your baby! I hope it’s born a boy! I hope it’s born blind! I hope it’s never born at all!” She was screaming at him, and he came to her carefully, coaxing her.
“You’re all wrought up, Mother,” he said. He could see that she was hysterical.
“Don’t call me Mother!” she shrieked, her voice strained so that she could hardly articulate.
“Laura, for God’s sake,” he said, trying to brush it off, trying to keep calm, help her. “I call you ‘Mother’ in honor of my Oedipus complex. Purely a formality. It has nothing to do with babies. Come lie down, honey. Come on. I’ll get you something to quiet you down. Come on,” he wheedled gently, but she looked at him like he meant to murder her then and there, backing away from him. When he made a quick move to grab her, she sprang away, picking up the stool to her dressing table. She threw it at him with all her strength. While he dodged she grabbed her shoes and coat and ran from the room.
At the front door she paused briefly to stare at him with desperate eyes and then she heaved an ashtray at him and fled. It cut his hand, which he threw up to protect his face.
Laura ran down the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator. She could hear Jack behind her, running and calling her name. At the front door she turned swiftly toward the river and climbed a chain link fence, ripping the flesh here and there along her limbs and tearing her blouse. She dropped, torn and gasping, to the other side just as Jack burst from the door and looked wildly in all directions for her. She rolled soundlessly some feet down the long slope that ended in chill black water.
There she waited, sobbing quietly, clinging to handfuls of greasy mud and roots and embedded rocks. She heard his footsteps going toward First Avenue. He thought she would run for a taxi or hide in a doorway. Laura scrambled and stumbled south along the embankment, not waiting for him to come back looking for her. There was a suffocating panic in her. She didn’t question it or wonder where it came from. She just did as it bid her, struggling through the dirt on the incline.
There was no looking back, no stopping for rest. She moved forward doggedly, tripping and sinking to her knees and clambering up again and going on, trying to stay near the fence in case she lost her footing. The going was slippery and rough and her breath rasped in and out with a fast whining sound. She had gone nearly three blocks when a jutting stone, invisible in the semi-dark, threw her, and she felt herself begin to skid and roll. She made a wild grab for the fence but it was already fifteen feet above her and receding fast. The wind was bumped out of her and she could not even scream. She had no idea how far she had fallen before she stopped.
Laura lay gasping and moaning for a few minutes, trying to get her breath back. She knew she was crying but she made no effort to stop. She moved herself gently to see if anything was broken, but the ground was not hard and she had missed the bad stones. She had no idea how long she had been there. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours. She thought vaguely it must have been hours when she finally stirred, chilled through, and opened her eyes. Beside her, on the ground, sat a man.
Laura screamed, a weak shuddering noise, and fell back, covering her face with her hands.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
Laura felt herself trembling with fear. She tried to pull her torn clothes straight, but it was so dark she could hardly see what she was doing. When he turned his face toward her she could see a little of it. It was very indeterminate; there was no way to guess his age or anything about him.
She stood up quickly and started to scramble up the hill, but he said, “There’s an easier way.”
She gave him one quick scared glance and then went on, but he stood up and said, “There’s steps about a half block on.”
Again she turned, very wary but willing to listen now. It looked a million miles to the top.
“I’ll show you,” he offered. His voice was not menacing and he stood facing her with his hands in his back pockets, a black statue with silver edges. “Come on, I’ll walk ahead.”
He turned then and went southward, agile and sure. After a moment Laura began to follow him, moving clumsily and with great
