The Cocktail Waitress

“Why? Couldn’t he tell me whether I need it too?”

“You can’t trust him to tell you that-he’ll say yes and scrape you just the same, whether you need it or not, just to be able to charge the full amount. No, you go to a laboratory, a perfectly regular one, and get yourself tested, and if they say it’s yes, then and only then do you make the call to my guy.”

Her ‘guy’ was a Dr. Ernst Fleischer with an office up in Yorkville, or in any event an address there-I didn’t know if abortionists had offices, exactly. I took down his information and thanked her.

“Please, Joanie, let me know what happens. Call anytime, day or night.”

“I promise.”

The next day we were on a plane, and at Kennedy, there was Jasper to meet us. Earl had made some calls from London and now, as we climbed into the back seat, he said: “The Waldorf Astoria, Jasper. You know where it is?”

“Yes sir.”

We drove in over Long Island, crossed the river on one of the bridges, I don’t know which, then pulled up in front of the hotel. It was three in the afternoon, and I knew I had things to do-look up a lab, get to it, have blood samples taken, or whichever samples they needed, and get back before Earl got to wondering what I was up to. I let Jasper hand me down, went in the lobby with Earl, and when he had registered, said: “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to do-may I join you later?” He stood there startled, about to say something, but I walked away and out the door, but fast.

I had to get to a phone book, the one with yellow pages, or I was nowhere. I started down the avenue the hotel was on, Park as I know now, though I didn’t then know what it was, and at 49^th Street happened to look, and there just a block away saw a drugstore. I walked over, found the Yellow Pages in their red cover, turned to Laboratories, didn’t find any, then discovered I had to look under “Medical Laboratories.” I found one only two blocks away, on 50^th Street, walked over to the office building it was in, and went up. The lady on the desk was quite friendly, gave me a receptacle and showed me into a room. I produced my specimen of urine, feeling horribly guilty about it, paid her in cash, and asked when I could get my report. “In the morning,” she told me. “We open at nine o’clock.”

I was back at the hotel by 4:30, trying to act casual. Earl greeted me with a small envelope in his hand. “The concierge was able to swing it.” And when I didn’t respond: “I have our tickets. If you still want to go?”

I took the envelope, looked inside, and there found two tickets to that evening’s performance of The Fantasticks.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I do want to see it-or them, whatever you call it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

I nodded, and forced a smile onto my face.

So we went, to some box of a theatre on Sullivan Street. But what The Fantasticks were like, or who they were, or what clothes they had on, don’t ask me, as I have no more idea than the man in the moon. I took another of Hilda’s pills at intermission and it got me through the second act intact, as well as the cab ride uptown, during which Earl’s hand never left my thigh.

Next morning, as I’d been doing in London, I sneaked out before he woke up. I wandered east to Lexington Avenue and sat over a cup of coffee at a luncheonette for an hour or more while the cook stood at his counter cutting bologna sandwiches. It was plenty of time for me to imagine what sort of a neighborhood Yorkville might be, as well as the rooms of Dr. Ernst Fleischer, whom I pictured in a white coat, only slightly frayed at the seams from too many washings, with a padded table whose dark leather surface had been worn shiny in places, with a pair of metal stirrups that creaked when adjusted, and a tray of clamps and devices I couldn’t name but could see all too well in my mind’s eye. He handed me up to the table kindly and patiently, did Dr. Fleisher in my imagination, but his hand shook, and when he reached out for the ether bottle, it tumbled to the floor and shattered…

Nine o’clock came, but slowly, slower than it ever had in all my life. The waiter, a heavy-featured Greek whose cheeks already bore a blue shadow even at this early hour, refilled my mug three times, joking the last time that he might have to charge me for another cup. The wall clock had a second hand that took an eternity to make its revolutions, and I found myself staring at it grimly. Once more, I urged it, and once more after that, and then I’ll know, then I’ll know.

I left the price of a second cup and didn’t answer when the waiter called after me with thanks, just hurried out the door and down the block, the endless block, and rode the elevator to the top floor (of course it was the top, of course it was, and how the elevator crawled!). I was certain when I got there I’d find the door to the laboratory locked, the hallway dark, no sign of life. Or else my sample would have been lost, or contaminated, or the results unclear without further testing, or-

But no: the lights were on, the door unlocked, and the girl had my report in an envelope. My hand trembled as I opened it. It was only one word, in penscript:

Negative.

I must have shown how I felt, as she laughed. “I thought it would please you,” she said.

On the way back to the hotel, I felt relief flood through me. And not just relief. I’d heard great stress could do it, could turn your flow off or on, but this was my first experience of it directly, and I rushed into our suite just in time. I let him see me get out my Kotex, then disappeared into the bathroom.

When I got out, I came over, kissed him on the forehead, and whispered: “Sorry to have been such a pest, but there was a reason- I never seem to remember the effect it has on me, this particular time of month. I hope you’ll make allowance.”

He acted as though shook, and said of course he understood.

25

We left New York at the end of that week, Jasper returning to pick us up. The drive back was smooth and swift and I spent it with my face turned toward the window, staring out at the highway rushing past. Earl let me alone, as he had since my announcement, being like most men mystified by and a little scared of the processes of a woman’s body.

Then at last we arrived, and around five that afternoon, after swirling up the oyster-shell drive, getting out on the brick landing and going in by the front door, which was held open by one of the maids with the cook and the other maid beside her, I entered my new home for the first time.

I wasn’t raised in a stable, and grew up with nice things, but I have to say that this place was five times as luxurious as anything I’d been accustomed to. The hall was wide, with a staircase leading up and curving over the balcony topside, on the second floor. Past the stairway was a door at the rear, which opened on what he called “the patio.” At right and left were doors standing open, one to a big dining room, the other to a living room, or drawing room, I would call it. Beyond drawing room and dining room, through other open doors, I could glimpse what looked like corridors, but with windows in them. Those were the “hyphens,” the passageways that connected the wings of the mansion to its center. Throughout, the furnishings, the glimpse I got of them, were fantastically luxurious: heavy mahogany chairs, tables, and settees, upholstered sofas, and rugs that looked to be Oriental. In the hall were heavy chests with upholstered pads on top, and along one wall a brass rail, “a feature,” he explained to me later, “that I borrowed from Ireland. It’s for drunks to hold on to, they’ll tell you, as they’re taking their leave at night- actually for wraps, much more practical than closets, racks, or the other things people have. Anyone can dump his things on the rail, pop his hat on top, and be ready to join the party.”

That afternoon all I could do was stare. I kept on staring when one of the maids took me up to my room, my suite, actually, as I had a sitting room as well as a bedroom. And then my heart beat up when through the open door I could see the nursery beyond, with a cot that had two guard rails, a horse with electric motor, and walls with pictures of Peter Rabbit. In a minute or two, as soon as I could go tearing downstairs again, I said: “Earl, you’ve got me all excited, with that beautiful nursery you had fixed for Tad-and now I want him. I want him with me tonight. Is it asking too much that we-?”

“I’ve been assuming you’d want to go get him.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”