copyright by Ann Bandazian 2006

Love is a hideous, all-devouring monster. Rarely a starry night--a delicate rainbow-- a field of daffodils, a giggling brook. No, that's not love--that's lust.

A's. father's still recovering from a heart attack.

"A, you can't go on like this. You'll get tuberculosis."

"It's too late. I love him. What can I do?"

That night they all prayed.

The diamond watch. Everyone's so impressed.

"You don't need proof. You know I can cook, launder, clean, sew-"

I'm frightened. The stepmother means trouble.

V. said, "When we're married, I'm going to make continuous love to you for three straight days."

"Shush, someone might hear you-"

"Goodnight wench."

"It's only furniture. If you put a match to it, it burns."

The instant they were in the store, the witch rushed from ornate sofa to even more ornate sofa--finally obsessing and settling on a magenta brocade upholstered monstrocity.

"Too much..too expensive...no, no too much. Not for us. Only for rich people."

From the street, the apartment seemed deserted--totally dark.

Come in, come in-- said the spider to the fly.

Determined to act natural. But A's voice sounded giddy and strange.

V. said, "I want to watch you dress."

"There's nothing to watch. Suppose they come back."

A. lay on the bed for a long time shaken by the fury and abrupt end of lovemaking.

They happily window shopped at opulent stores--thinking "if I were king--no, queen."

Sister married the sociopath only six months after Don was killed.

"Sister, I'm paying for your dress. They have money. He doesn't need my paltry savings."

The shop was a quiet oasis in the Manhattan labyrinth.

A. paid seventy five dollars with cash for the exquisite ivory satin gown trimmed with lace about the sweeheart neckline and about the gathered skirt.

"You'll be such a beautiful bride."

Though no need to run for the train, A. ran down the ramp.

Did A. really love the stranger?

The voice in her head said, "So help me--at this very late date I have doubts. I want to take care of him. He's so alone. And in a way so am I"-

"Also I want to sleep with him legally."

"And I'm not going to buy one of those imbecile books that tell a girl what to do on her honeymoon."

When they traveled, Mom, thrilled with the beautiful, free land chanted, "God bless America," at each farm, school, housing development, park and hospital.

A. turned the one carot diamond ring a half dozen ways-- delighted by rainbow lights.

Troubles multiplied with guest lists, musicians, florists, printers, bridal party on and on and on.

An atrociously styled fake mahogany knocknack cabinet gift from the girls at work. A. knew they meant only kindness and generosity.

"She must stay at our house. We won't permit our bride to go to a hotel full of strange people."

An unconcerned platinum sun shone through the window.

What kind of a wedding day omen?

Relatives eating, drinking, ear drum piercing screeches-

"Alone in anonymous dismal bedroom."

A. lost it, "Damn it, I'm the bride!"

Clamor subsided. Apologies. Offers of help.

Like a bunch of witless chickens.

Where's the organist?

Priest motions to knees, to cross, to face eachother--forehead to forehead.

Devilish urge to wink.

What will the congregation think?

Majestic priest.

One damn exhausting hour.

Tearfully beaming crowd.

Church hall gymnasion decorated with white crepe paper bells and streamers.

Sad and ugly.

Two hundred guests.

Who? Many strangers.

Keyed up children--out of control.

Fat kind female relatives perspring while cooking, serving-- rushing from table to table. Strands of hair escaping from hair pins.

Husky men hurrying with heavy cases of whiskey.

Joyous pandemonium--the Armenian band arrives.

Oud, dumbag, def, clarinet and piano.

Pure sex.

Dancing breathless and perspring.

Curvacious females in black crepe dresses with dangling, rhinestone earings.

Dark eyed men, with white shirt sleeves rolled up, arms raised, eyes closed--sexual inspiration-

"Bye--"

To V- "Go easy with the kid-"

A fawn colored wool Peck and Peck suit. Pleats all about the skirt.

An unending drive in cold mist.

Ghostly Atlantic City in February-- so many years before the renaissance.

Eyelids drooping. A. talking and talking so V. won't fall asleep.

A still palatial hotel

Technicolar movie set room

Wonderful wide windows overlooking the winter ocean.

Too tired?

No.

Hurried shower.

Wispy nightclohes, high heeled mules, bath powder, deodorant, perfume- tooth brush.

First act of love- graceless and clumsy.

Awake during the night in arms, kissing and drenched in lust/love.

Arabic poetry: "Your kisses are like salt water, the more I drink, the thirstier I become."

Day after day insistant cold, gray, dismal.

Long walks with fiercely swooping gulls against the angry sea.

The sun had forgotten them.

Money is a deaf mute.

"What money,do we have, darling? For groceries, utilities et. cetera?"

"My father told you everything."

"He said he was a very rich man and you would get everything when he died."

"Right."

"What do you have yourself?"

"Bankbooks? Deeds? Stuff like that? Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Everywhere I go--money, money! And on our honeymoon- It's too much."

A. said, "Sorry. I married you and want nothing else."

But a worry worm in her gut.

Ignored mean old man's instructions: Return to work on Monday.

V. said, "Let's pay a surprise visit to your parents."

It was a surprise. Joyful tears and fussing over the bride and groom.

Leaving home a dagger in A.'s throat.

The party's over.

Four room flat with green leaf printed linoleum and soot covered window sills.

The parlor- a new green boucle covered couch which opened as bed.

Two matching chairs with black lacquered frames, the upholstery a subtle gray and red pattern appearing almost Chinese.

V. sawed off the old legs of a table measuring two by six. Then he affixed severely plain new ones and finally stripped and repainted the table blonde to aproximate Scandinavian modern. Thus the old table metamorphosed into a contemporary coffee table, making A. and V. very proud.

The kitchen table-- gray faux marble plastic table top with chrome legs and four gray plastic covered chairs--also with chrome legs.

Gifts: Four aluminum trays, two toasters, three Revere ware cooking pots. A set of plastic Russell Wright dishes in shades of avacado, olive, and gray. A chrome coffee pot and an aluminum coffee pot. A lace tablecloth. Three sets of bed linens. Four sets of towels. Two sets of dish towels. And two sets of pot holders. And cash for the honeymoon

A. and V. still in the love bed.

The wild old father pounds on the door shouting something unintelligible.

V. explains that he, the grocer's son, must be down in the store at five-thirty A.M.

The deliveries begin arriving and he must be there to take them in before they're stolen. This is a neighborhood of very poor people.

V. doesn't come to lunch. A. is lonely and bored.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich will be O.K. for A.

At five o'clock, V., the grocer's son, brings up beef stew meat, celery, carrots, onion,and potatoes. Also letuce, cucumber,and two tomatoes for salad. Coffee. Coca Cola and Twinkies. She plans their first supper will be something like Mulligan stew.

A., slowly and masterfully puts together the stew and then the salad. Sorry nothing for salad dressing. Then coffee.

There is no phone. What time will V. return for dinner?

Waiting and reheating. It barely resembles Mulligan stew.

Love conquers mushed stew.

The old man continued in spitting nails rages- shouting. He seemed to live to rage.

The mean old man's new orders to V.: Be in the store at seven every day with all deliveries in place.

Stay in the store at night until the last customer has left before closing.

No weekends off.

A prison sentence.

No escape. The old man had the house, the store, the money.

The gravel voiced stepmother's arthritic claws were somehow involved. What was she after?

Passionate kisses momentarily blur the insanity....

A happy moment. Up the street to the Albee for a movie. It was China plate giving night.

Amused laughter as teenage boys drop plates during love scenes.

Back home A. tried not being repelled by the dog shit in the corner of a dirty marble step.

Night after night frightening shouts and screams and obscenities- How can people live like this?

V., says he's used to it, "The police would happy if they all killed eachother."

But A. never knew or lived with Puerto Ricans, Coloreds, Asians or Hasidic Jews. Her arty friends would tell her to submerge herself in this exotic mixture and become enriched.

So, A. put on the cloak of democratic oneness. But they were smart. They knew it was an act.

All night long--wails of fire, police and ambulance-

Like animals--fathers lusting and taking their daughters--knifing wives and lovers. And very rarely a woman moved to mad fury knifing or shooting a husband or lover. A. overjoyed and on the side of the woman no matter what the reason.

A. was half moved to tears when, Colored mechanic Sam, handed out pennies to poor, ragged white kids. White kids!

In the store, the wicked stepmother continued fault-finding. For one thing, Both A. and V. were too friendly with the Colored customers.

And the Colored customers sensing A. and V.'s good hearted sincerity and distrusting the stepmother, hated her poisonously.

Fred, the barber, referred to stepmother as, dat ole bitch.

The stepbitch lied to the old man that V. was helping himself to money in the cash register.

But A. and V. had to have money for things other than rent and groceries.

Stepbitch and the mean old man said no other money was necessary.

A. had never seen a cockroach before in her life and never got over the cockroaches. Nausea, rage and disgust drove her wild.

One day A. wielded the plastic handled broom on a roach with such venom, she broke the broom.

Two month's anniversary celebration in a modest neighborhood Italian restaurant.

A's tongue loosened after two Cinzano's.

"Are we rich or poor? if rich, why are we living in that filthy bug infested hole?"

"We, you and I, are not rich. We are nothing."

"We are nothing?" It was as A. feared-- lies. Silence.

"But your father and all your relatives said you were rich-"

"My father has a fair amount of money in property--the house and the two stores- He also has creditors and a gluttonous wife."

"This is crazy. How will I ever buy anything or am I not supposed to?"

V. smiles. "I have a surprise for you."

A. tried not feeling like a money obsessed bitch. "What?"

"Pa says you can have an allowance of thirty-five dollars a week."

"That's more money than I've ever had for myself."

"But you'll pay for utilities and after that what's left is all yours."

"Darling, I can't spend my life taking the bus and going downtown--browsing in department store just to spend time--more like wasting time. I really need to find a job."

"The old man says you can work in the store."

"O.K. that could be interesting--even fun."

The wicked stepmother found reasons to come into the store when A. was working.

The complaints came from wicked stepbitch to the mean old man and finally to V.

"She took the good celery instead of the yellowing ragged one. She let the welfare woman, Mrs.Tompkins put another order on her account."

"Why was A. half an hour late coming down to the store after lunch?"

V. smiled but didn't say, having sex.

"Why does A. leave the kitchden light on when you're in the bedroom? Does A. think we're millionaires?

"Where does A. go several times a week? I see her at the bus stop."

After dozens of complaints and working nearly two months in the store A. found it neither interesting nor fun.

The mean old man said there was no reason for A. and V. to go to Hamlette to see A.'s parents. Now they were A.'s family and this was her home.

A. was sad, lonely and bored.

The old man flat out forbid A's going to work. What will our relatives say? "They can't even keep a bride." I won't tolerate such humiliation."

Gathering flaming fury and courage, The Bride told the mean old man she was going to find a job.

He said, "It is our custom that the bride doesn't talk."

A. said, "This bride talks. I'm going to go to work."

And A. walked away leaving the mean old man totally speechless.

A.'s husband was proud and this gave him courage to stand with her.

"If A. wants to work, I'm with her one hundred percent."

The agency painted an impressive picture. "He's a diagnostician, director of a hospital, lecturer and writer-"

A. imagined a Hollywood movie actor doctor.

Dr. Wagner's technician took A. to a mahaogany paneled consulting room--to wait.

No actor but a penguin. Shiny, slick, black Rudooph Valentino hair. A protruding belly. And large white teeth.

Dr. T. repeated his credentials and jovially boasted that he had hired and fired eight girls in three months for reasons never explained.

Unfazed. A. knew she would succeed. She was different from those lazy New Yorkers.

Dr. -the Penquin said, "I'm planning a trip to Europe. I'm collecting material which I'll be using. It's in a folder in the file drawer."

"The rest of the work is in the customary: making, cancelling or changing appointments, history taking, keeping accounts, typing up letters. I also will want you to take electrocardiograms and develope the films. And I often perform fluroscopy and as I do, I'll dictate my findings for you to take in shorthand-"

"Start tomorrow afternoon at one. My wife will familiarize you on how we operate our office.."

A. dashed to Sterns and bought a white nurse's uniform and white nurse's shoes. Her spirits were high. A. was back in the world of excitement, intelligent people and science.

Trying desperately to melt stepbitch, A. persuaded V. to arrange a coffee at their apartment. They would have Armenian coffee and coconut cake.

Amazingly stepbitch came first. The mean old man was working late in the store.

In a rare mood of confiding, stepbitch told of her unhappy arranged first marriage to a man twenty-three years her senior. The accidental drowning of her beautiful five year old daughter. And her struggles bringing up two wild sons after her husband died.

Despite this sad story, A. could not see or feel any warming towards her.

Warmed, the old man warmed said they must come to his apartment the following night.

Stepbitch served stale cheorag--a kind of sweet bisquit. Though the mean old man strongly disapporoved, stepbitch put naughty Turkish records on the phonograph. She said that they were her own very old personal records.

Suddenly, she was clapping her hands and tapping her feet. She sang the shocking words in Turkish, offering translations from time to time.

The mean old man was happy to see lusty stepbitch in such excellent spirits.

V. said to A., "Don't say anything about the job now. Wait until tomorrow-"

A. allowed time for getting lost in the subway. She soon knew she was on the wrong train, made an adjustment and was at Dr. T.-the Penguin's office promptly at one o'clock.

Disturinbing development number one. The technician wasn't there having quit after five suffering incompatible years.

Disturbing development numbrer two. Mrs. T.-Madam Saphire Eyes was taking over-

Mrs. T. was chic, brittle, and schrewd with ice blue saphire eyes that could cut through lead--her smile was a chilly insincere grimace.

Mrs. T. talked rapidly as she pulled out file drawers, showed the appointment book, the book for accounts paid and owed, explained the examining rooms and telephone etiquette.

A. was ready to flee. Her fate might be the same as the eight previous fired assistants.

At quarter to two, Dr. T.-the Penguin arrived-- after which hellish confusion prevailed.

Dr. T. noted the chaos and announced to A.,

"I will never rush or appear hurried. That's why I hired you--to run, if necessary--to run. Understand?"

"Yes, doctor."

Dr. T. the- Penguin performed the electrocardiogram, explaining each step so that A. might be able to take them herself.

The next day A. learned the flurosopy procedure. Dr. T. sat on a low stool, dictating his findings as the patient stood behind a screen. A. was instructed to stand behind him and take dictation in the dark. In a few minutes Dr.T.'s hands were brazenly on her buttocks bringing her close to him.

He said, "You have to stay close to hear my findings."

A. hoped this lecherous trick wouldn't be a regular occurance.

Dr.T.'s timing was amazing. Mrs. T.-Saphire Eyes was never in the office during fluroscopy procedures.

The phone rang, The patients, old and new kept arriving. There was money to take and money to record in the account's book. The phone rang. People wanted to talk with the doctor or get prescription refilled. There was mail to open. Doctors called to confer with Dr.T.-the Penguin.

Mrs. T.-Saphire Eyes plainly registered disapointement--an expression which never changed. She never saw Dr. T.-the Penguin's lustful dark room antics.

Finally, heavenly release. The last patient was gone. It was past quiting time. Dr. T.-the Penguin drove her to the subway station.

A. told V. all about her exciting day leaving out the bad parts.

The mean old man raised hell with V. about A's working. He loathed and feared his relatives believing "the bride" was working because they needed money.

A. was too elated about working in a medical office and doing medical work to be troubled by the mean old man and Stepbitch's grumblings.

Madam Saphire eyes was present the next day. She was there in the background like an ominous shadow on an x-ray.

A. felt sorrow for the poor heart impaired who bared dove white breasts to her jelly and leads for cardiogram preparation. Vulnerable in too many ways.

A. learned how to develop the cardiograms in the darkroom. When they were developed Doctor T. came to read and study them in the dark.

A charity affair claimed the presence of Madam Saphire eyes. She was blessedly absent for three whole days. Though A. breathed easier without Madam Saphire Eyes hovering at her side, the continuing burgeoning work made messy piles on her desk and disorder in general.

Still, A. was proud. She'd made a huge leap from Williamsburg, Brooklyn to Park Avenue. It didn't matter that she was often lost--speeding to unknown places-- or that she was a few minutes late arriving at the office.

Triumph was short-lived. A. was beginning to relax. Eight days into her employment, Dr. T.-the Penguin, unpleasantly surprised her. Standing behind A. in the darkroom,. examining the films, he slumped aginst her, putting his arms about A.'s waist. He whispered, "I'm not hugging you becaue I like you--I'm just tired."

With letters and reports and accounts piling on A.'s desk, Madam T.sapphire Eyes reappeared. Dr. T.-the Penguin took this occasion to begin dictating the lecture he planned to give in three European countries.

Madam T. Saphire Eyes left for two hours to have lunch with two of her lady friends. It was no occasion for rejoicing. Another fluoroscopy and another session of darkened room friskiness. As he dictated in the dark., Dr. T.-the Penguin took his place on a the low stool. Soon Dr. T's octopus hands reached out behind him, grasped her buttocks and pulled her close to him. A. felt such rage it became nausea.

She hated to leave a job which could have been exciting medical work. A. hated to give satisfaction to the mean old man and stepbitch but she told V. Dr. T. was a pig and he didn't pay her enough to endure all his shit. V. said, "You don't have to work--quit."

On the eleventh day, A. told Dr. T.-the Penguin that she had to leave as she didn't think she could meet his requirements.

When A. told kindly Mrs. Potter she was leaving, she said,

"Don't feel bad. No one but the nuns at St. Peter's Hospital could please him."

So, it wasn't any massive lack on her part- A. smiled and was happy.

Neither Madam Saphbire Eye or Dr. T. were surprised or disappointed with her quitting.

Dr. T- the Penguin seemed almost pleased to be adding a nineth scalp of unsatisfactory assistants to his belt. He wrote out her check, drove her to the subway station. They shook hands goodbye.

That night A. said to V.,

"Dr. t- the Penguin wouldn't have been half bad if he had three more assistants, or two nuns, his wife barred from the office and a kick in the balls whenever he misbehaved.

V. welcomed A. back without regret and she resumed her domestic duties with renewed vigor. She bought fabric to sew replacements for the hideous plastic drapes printed with gigantic tropical orange leaves. There had been some measurement inaccuracy so the new curtains were an inch and a half short. Whatever, V. was proud and thought they were perfectly beautiful.

At this time the mean old man decided that New York--really Brooklyn--was becoming unfit for civilized living. He barely made civilized himself with shouting rages and more than once with a meat cleaver in his hand running after some poor customer who left without paying.

A. prayed God would intercede.

This was the mean old man's plan: The four of them would spend the summer driving all over Westchester and Western Connecticut looking for a suitable property. The mean old man envisioned both families living together in a huge grand house with at least thirty acres and a large barn where V. would keep and sell chickens. Neither the mean old man nor his wife, Stepbitch would do any work. If there were apple or pear trees, they might pick the fruit.

told V. this was a fairy tale. A. said she had no intention of wasting her life looking for property or living as new bride slave in a ghastly house with the mean old man and Stepbitch as one happy family. V. told her to humor them. One day, he naively said, both would die and they would inherit his hoard.

Thus they began a trying series of endless Sunday trips to farms and estates in Westchester, Putnam country and Western Connecticut. It was decreed that A. as the secondary woman, the new bride, would make sandwiches and pack a picnic lunch so they wouldn't have to go to restaurants. A. made creative sandwiches of lamb, roast beef, and ham. She added hard boiled eggs and fruit. There was nothing to drink but water which was good enough. But none of it was good enough for Stepbitch who always had one tiny criticism.

A. missed her family. It had now been six months since she'd seen them. She secretly called from the phone in the drugstore.

The minute she heard her mother's voice she began crying.

Her poor mother was alarmed

"What's wrong my daughter? Tell me--what's wrong."

A's was so overwrought it took a few minutes to regain calm to explain that she was homesick.

Not understanding the situation of the ignorant twosome, her mother said,

"Drive home this weekend. Why are you homesick and crying?"

A.covered for the evil couple,

"Our weekends are busy. We're looking for property to buy outside the city."

Her mother resisted,

"That property isn't going to fly away--come next weekend."

A. agreed knowing it was out of the question.

"I'll try to persuade the old man- But he believes he's the head of the family and totally in charge-"

Out of the blue her mother said,

"I hate all men. I hate the very word --men."

After two months of exhausting futile excursions, A. pleaded with V.,

"Let's have a baby. I'm so sick of being lonely. I've only seen my family once since we were married."

V. wondered,

"You really want a baby?"

"Yes, I really do. The empty spare room could become a nursery."

They kept their baby plan secret from the mean old man and stepbitch. By this time it was clear to A. and V. that Stepbitch didn't want the old man spending his money on property. She wanted the money liquid so she could take off with it whenever the opportunity arose. The man man ignored all his wife's minute objections about each and every property. Their weekends jaunts went on without end.

L Of Judge Clayton Andrew's stunningly beautiful estate--with Mount Vernon reproduction house, horse barn and brook with handsome bridge over it, Stepbitch warned, "There will be mosquitos from the water-"

A. stayed in Brooklyn. In the afternoons she took subway rides to different places. The Bowery was not threatening but interesting. Deserted Wall Street was nothing but cold buildings. Broadway on Sunday afternoon concealed its nightime magic.

A. became pregnant almost immediately. Even though she'd worked in the hospital medical records, A. at twenty-one was still vague about many of the facts of pregnancy. V., twenty-one also and living in the Colored/Puerto Rican ghetto and privy to pregnancy stories in the grocery store, actually knew very little of true facts.

V. longing for an opportunity to do something on his own, dreamed of being a builder of houses. He was talented with plumbing and electrical repairs. Hammer and nails were no stranger to him. V. planned building dream houses on the land the mean old man said he would buy. He sadly continued the weekend searches with the mean old man and Stepbitch.

A.'s thoughts were on the coming baby. Soon the pregnancy became obvious to cataract blurred but still eagle eyed Stepbitch.

Without an ounce of joy, she said,

"So you're going to have a baby-"

An old superstition came to mind. A. worried that Stepbitch might give her baby the evil eye."

The mean old man expressed surprise but no joy either. True to his vulgar self he said to V.,

"You couldn't keep your cock in your pants- Now what are you going to do?"

V. didn't even try to tell him that the baby was wanted by both A. and himself.

V.'s family doctor recommended Dr. Kuperman an obstetrician with a sound reputation to see A. through her pregnancy.

D. Kuperman's face was baby pink--his silvery blonde hair thinning--his manner was almost too friendly to be professional.

A.'s pregnancy progressed normally without a single problem--except, there was a tiny problem--A. was always hungry and ate small amounts continuously. The prevailing medical insistance was that the mother's weight gain be limited.

V. worried but A. said,

"It's only so the doctors can have an easy delivery."

V. argued,

"It's their profession. The doctors certainly know that the delivery will be easier for the mother too."

Dr. Kuperman wasn't alarmed by her fifteen pound weight gain.

A.'s date of confinement, so it was called, was now only three months away. The problem of money pinched at her thoughts. V.'s employment hung on the wispy whims of the mean old man and Stepbitch. They still had no established pay or savings account. They were tied to the flea-brained fantasy of V.'s father. Fortunately, the grand house with poultry farm hadn't entirely materialized. A vaguely similar property with fifty acres, a barn in sound condition and a collapsing farm house was under the mean old man's wavering consideration.

It almost seemed the vile twosome had cauterized V.'s nerves. He was paralyzed. A. wept. The futility of it all--being frozen in an old world hell. Her weeping upset V. who didn't need an ounce more of frustration.

A. snuffled through her tears,"I only hope the baby understands when there's no money for milk-"

"Don't get melodramatic. I thought you planned to nurse the baby-"

"I did--I do."

A. wept,

We have no private life. And our lives will totally change once we have the baby-"

V. gave in,

"I told Pop yesterday that I can't go with them this weekend--that you're not feeling well-"

A. smiled and began delicious wonderings where they'd go for lunch and what movie they'd see.

While still in bed, they were awakened by loud pounding on the door.

Though he was pretty certain the pounder was his father, V. leaped from bed. Still searching for his slippers- The mean old man rushed in without waiting.

He marched straight to their bedroom.

Without apologizing, he shouted,

"What's the meaning of this? Why aren't you ready?"

Calmly, V. said,

"I told you yesterday. I'm staying home today. A. doesn't feel well-"

The mean old man ignored V.'s explanation and shouted louder,

"women have babies. She's no one special. Come on--come on-

A. stood. Pulled on her robe. She looked the mean old man square in the eye and said,

"My husband isn't coming today."

The mean old man acted as if she hadn't said a word and loudly addressed V.,

"We have no time to waste. This is business. This is money."

A. could see that V. was wavering.

She pulled the tie about her waist and said to the mean old man-

"Looking for an egg farm is neither business nor money. V. has to call my doctor-

The mean old man focused knife eyes on V.,

"Son, stop acting like a woman. If it weren't for me you would have starved to death in street gutters-"

V. shrugged his shoulders. Turned to A. and said,

"We'll hurry back. If you have a problem call cousin Lovenia-"

V. obeyed the mean old man. He left without eating breakfast.

He quickly kissed A.- Rather hopelessly, he tried to comfort-

"Cheer up. This can't go on forever-"

Stepbitch's gambling son was in trouble. She took the bus to New Jersey to bail him out of jail.

The mean old man was deeply disturbed that his master plan was halted for this weekend.

V. happily cancelled the trip to Duchess country to look at just one more property before sealing the deal on the property without a house.

A. and V. went baby crib shopping. The price was moderate so they bought a darling maple crib with lambs and bunny rabbits at either end.

Stepbitch was away for two more days. The mean old man was mad with loneliness and frustration.

The crib was delivered and V. spent the time after supper assembling it. he crib had a solitary look all by itself in the spare room. Nonetheless, it gave great joy to A. and V. to stand beside the bed and imagine their baby.

They sat closely together on the convertable couch to read.

The door was abruptly thrown open. Like a roaring tiger the man old man burst in-

"Oh, yes- lazy people. Sit and read. The world collapses about your heads and you don't have a care about earning money for the future-"

V. said,

"I don't have to listen to this one hundred times," and left the apartment slamming the door behind him.

A. went to the kitchen to avoid the volcano that was about to erupt.

The mean old man followed A. She had nowhere else for escape. And no V. to hide behind.

It was like gun fire. A. was stunned. The mean old man was swearing--like ugly worms crawling from his mouth --it wasn't in Armenian-

A's mother always boasted, "We have no swear words in Armenian-"

The mean old man would have punched her if he dared- Instead, he picked up the amber ashtray and smashed it to the floor.

And then the rage subsided. He ran out of fire and started to leave.

At the door he wheeled around and spat in Armenian,

"Everybody knows your mother slept with her father."

Quiet. He was gone.

A. was exhausted. What did he mean?

"Everybody knows your mother slept with her father."

How vile. Was there any truth in it?

The whole nightmare was finally too much. Where was V.?

A. threw herself on the floor and wept inconsolably. It slammed abut her head..."your mother slept with her father...everybody knows..."

Her mother's family were all austere Protestants. It wasn't possible. Was it?

V. entered quietly. Weeping, A. didn't hear his entrance.

Shaking her head, no- again and again.

V. rushed to her, gathered her in his arms. He struggled to lift her. A's twenty-five extra pounds of pregnancy prevented.

A. was emotionally whipped. She clung to the floor crying,

"What did he mean? Was it true?" How unspeakably ugly-"

V. sat on the floor beside her. Stroking her hair, he comforted,

"First chance I get, I'm going to start taking taking money from the register. Then we're leaving."

A. didn't care. What if all that weeping upset the baby? She felt her belly and listened. there was movement. At least the baby was O.K.

V. was lifting money from the cash register. Ten dollars. Twenty dollars. But no more. Stepbitch was back from bailing out her gangster son from jail. Hawklike she watched the cash register.

In the three weeks that followed A. was in a more peaceful mood. She found ways of avoiding Stepbitch. Once as A. was coming up the stairs the mean old man was going down opposoite her. His triumphant smile as he stepped aside nauseated her.

V. took the weekly cash to the bank. Because the mean old man received the bank statements, he still felt in total control of every last penny.

A. opened a savings account in a bank far downtown. Each week she deposited the small amounts lifted from the register. The balance now totaled four hundred dollars and twenty-one cents.

A. proudly showed V. their newest bank balance. Not doubting Stepbitch's sneaking into their apartment to look for a bank book, A. hid it in the coffee tin.

A. asked, "V. do you feel like a crook lifting money from the cash register?" V. said, "Are you kidding? I made all his money. He didn't know a thing about business-"

"Well, how can he say, you would starve in the gutter without him? He's trying to cripple you so you'll never leave-"

"Oh, we're leaving alright. Don't you worry about that. Once we have the baby-"

Christmas came and went a quiet ghostly presence. A.'s parents weren't able to visit as sister, Maro was hospitalized with appendicitis. "It's just as well," thought A. The wild shouts and screams all night long,and the police and ambulance wailings would embarass her and sicken her parents.

Except for V.'s eau d' toilette Chanel #5 present to A., they gave eachother sensible presents. Stepbitch and the mean old man made no mention of Christmas or gifts to A. and V. V. said,

"They figure letting us stay in the apartment rent free and bringing up fading groceries is present enough."

After lunch they walked to the Albee to see a Burt lancaster movie. During the movie, A. became aware of a slight crampy feeling in her abdomen.

She didn't say anything to V. as the crampy feeling was so slight there was no point in disrupting the movie.

There were no girlfriends in Brooklyn with whom to compare symptoms. The closest to a girlfriend was Maureen the Irish girl who lived with an older man who V. said was a Philippino. Their relationship was a puzzle. Maureen didn't have a nine to five job. Like a novel, it was as if the man paid Mauareen to live with him. The Philippino didn't even object to Maureen's mother moving in with them. A very odd situation. they didn't look like bad people. Maureen never said much but she smiled sweetly and was very thankful as if it were some kind of an honor for A.'s occasional invitation to come in for coffee and chocolate cookies.

Of the colored customers who came into the grocery store, half a dozen said hello to her. There wasn't much of mutual interest to discuss. A. was considered the wife of rich V. who they believed owned the apartment house and the stores. Many out and out disliked her. A few showed sympathy for A.,the daughter-in-law of the ugly and mean old man. Mrs. France whose last name was actually Francis, was called "France" by the mean old man because that's what he lazily made of her name. Mrs. France drank her poverty and sorrows away. Her clothes were rags and her stockings filled with runs and fallen about her ankles.

Trying, to stay upright and not falling into the crates of vegetables she said to A.,

"Mrs. Junior, you like that ugly ole man?"

A. smiled but didn't agree because ugly himself was standing nearby.

Mrs. France continued, "I like you, Mrs. Junior. You like me?"

A. wanted to say that she loved her but said instead,

"I like you, Mrs. France. I like you a lot."

A. opened the bedroom window to a wild, windy March morning. Did this qualify for March coming in like a lion...did more people commit suicide in March than any other month? She told herself to shut up and went to eat her cereal. Breakfast was the boringist meal.

V. had already gone to work. A. hadn't eaten more than two spoonsful of cereal when she became aware of a vaguely awkward situation. Trying to control alarm, she went down the hall to Maureen's apartment and asked if she could use their phone.

Maureen catching the serious look, said,

"Sure thing, sweetie-pie. Any else I can do?"

To V., A. said,

"At first I thought I was incontinent of urine, but now I think it's something else. No real pain. I'm scared. Please come-"

V. arrived immediately. When A. saw his forced smile, she summoned her own bravery. Not wanting to clue the mean old man as to what was going on, V. called Dr. Malcolm from the corner drug store. As Dr. Kuperman was vacationing in the Carribean, his colleague, Dr. Malcolm, was covering for him.

Dr. Malcolm said,

"I doubt it's real labor but bring her in to the E.R. so we can take a look."

As V. drove very cautiously, A. tried to remember every bit of obstetrical knowlege she might have picked up in the hospital records room. Her knowlege was pitifully poor. Old Mrs. France knew more then she.

Bits of intern's notes came to A.,

"The patient's face was gray (or yellow or green-"

When she worked at Liberty Life and Accident Insurance, her first job out of high school, Sylvia Barron said,

"If you multiply curse cramps a thousand times, that's what labor's like"-

"How do you know? You've never been pregnant-"

"I heard my big sister, Harriet telling my other sister-"

A. and V. entered the small decaying hospital at four in the afternoon. While they were answering questions in the Admitting office, they heard blood freezing screams of women--certainly in labor.

"Dear, God," thought A., "am I going to get crazy with pain like those women?"

V. tightly squeezed her hand. A. had never heard the screams of women in labor. How terrible did the pains become?

The woman at the typwriter continued asking questions and typing their answers. She obviously had to make sure they were fiancially dependable. V. said he was co-owner of an apartment house and two stores. Would they investigate? It was a dreadful place. A. only wanted to escape this insane asylum of women's screams.

They told V. to take her watch and rings and to wait in the hall outside the Admitting office. As she was led away, he kissed her,

"Good luck, kid."

Down a hall some distance from the admitting office, A. was ushered into an examining room and told to remove her clothes. The nurse said,

"Please get into this johnny coat. It ties in the back."

A. shyly took off her many clothes. She neatly folded them and put them on an empty metal chair. The nurse pointed to the examining table.

"O.K. get on the table-"

When she realized A. needed assistance to climb onto the table, she offered a helping hand. Then she said,

I've paged the resident. He'll come to examine you in a few minutes. So A. waited and listened for the screams. Now they were down to just one screamer. And maybe the woman in labor was spoiled and not used to any real pain.

Her pains really weren't screaming bad. They were just like curse cramps. But wasn't that the way labor began? If only she could get dressed and go home-

The resident was thin and unsmiling. He was cute in a dark hair and eyes way. He said hello and gave his name which A. didn't understand. The nurse stood by while he opened her legs. He looked at her cervix. Then he went to the window where the nurse now stood. They conferred about her.

The resident left the room. The nurse said, "Mrs. V., the doctor says he thinks you're in false labor. We understand you aren't certain whether you're eight or nine months because you had a period of spotting somewhere along the line- He suggests that you take a short drive to a park or nearby restaurant instead of waiting here-I'll go get your husband.

V. entered the room. Looking about the room, he said,

"This place is a dump. I wish our doctor was affiliated with another hospital. The nurse said they think it would be better if we go for a little ride or something until you get into real labor-"

A. sighed,

"I want to go home. I don't want to ride around. O.K.?"

V. said,

"Whatever you want. We might be too far away when the pains come-"

A. said,

"I'll be O.K.-" V. helped her on with her shoes and coat. They left without looking left or right.

Once home A. decided she'd make beef and vegetable stew for supper. There was no point in lying in bed and waiting for what she didn't know.

V. said,

"Listen, I'll make the stew. You go rest in bed. Just tell me what to do-

A. was tired. She didn't object. She said,

"O.K. first take the stew meat and cut some bacon in small pieces. Brown the bacon a little and then-

V. interrupted,

"Wait a minute. Slow down. I'll brown and bacon and come back for the next step."

Then A. told him to cut the meat into smaller pieces, roll it in flour and brown it.

Despite V's objections A. got out of bed to peel carrots and potatoes.

She added celery, onions, canned mushroom pieces, bay leaf, thyme, wine vinegar and a teaspoon of salt and a half teaspoon of sugar. She asked V. to open a can of tomatoes to add to the meat, vegetables and seasonings. V. acted pleased and proud with their joint stew-

But before they turned on the heat- A's pains became worse. They were about twenty minutes apart. It was definitely time to go back to the hell hole hospital. She told V. to put the pot into the fridg.to cook for himself the next day.

It was now seven o'clock. Most people in Bed-Sty. were home eating supper and watching the news on television.

A. hurriedly packed her small overnight bag with a large cotton nightgown, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, cologne, Kotex, hair brush, eight plastic curlers, and underwear. As they slowly descended the marble steps, A.,said,

"If I need anything else, you can bring it tomorrow-"

As V. drove, A.noted the gray brown snow heaped at the sides of the road. She studied the homes, stores, factories, small restaurants, and the supports to the elevated train. There wasn't a soothing sight until they drove by the Lutheran church. She tried praying but couldn't get much into her prayer because of the cramps and her fear of what was to come. In a way, she reasoned, the waiting for the baby part would be over and she could deal with the new part.

The Emergency Room was packed. She guessed no one in pain was thinking of supper. A nurse asked why they were there and A. told her. The nurse said,

"Just a minute, I'll check with admitting-" and disappeared.

Suddenly, water began dripping and rushing from her body. All over her beautiful fawn colored wool coat with the sheered beaver collar. The people in the Emergency Room stared at her. No one ever told her that she would have water pouring out of her. She knew one thing, she couldn't stay with the water and the people glumly stared. Crashing crushing shame. A. rushed to the nearby ladies room and decided to stay there.

Ten minutes later a different nurse came to the ladies room and said,

"A. let's get you into the wheelchair. We're going into the labor room."

Once settled onto the wheelchair with her soaked winter coat and back into the Emergency Room, A. was joined by V. who looked puzzled.

A. said,

"Hon, you better go home and cook the stew for yourself. This might take a long time."

V. still looking confused, said,

"You sure?"

She handed him her coat and they kissed quickly as husbands and wives usually do.

A. guessed she was on her way to the same labor room as before. At the desk, she saw the resident. She said,

"Hi, Remember me, Doctor. You sent me home earlier- Here I am again-"

He frowned as if to place her in the crowd of women he saw every day. He said,

"By the way, what kind of anesthesia do you want?"

It was as if he was asking what flavor ice cream she wanted. She said,

"What's the best?"

He said,

"Caudal."

A. agreed,

"O.K.--I'll have that."

He said,

"It costs more."

A. said,

"I don't care."

A. wondered exactly what being prepped entailed. She was left alone in the same large room painted bilious green. There were protruding pipes on the walls and ceilings which were also painted bilious green.

Time dragged. There was no screaming. She could hear the soft voices of the nurses at the outside desk. She wondered if they had forgotten her.

After a long while a handsome Puerto Rican nurse came into the room to prep her. She said,

"I have to shave you."

A. nodded that she understood. Now added to her pains was the icey straight razor. When that was done to her satisfaction, the nurse said,

"Now we'll clean you out-"

With tears in her eyes, A. nodded O.K. The enema followed. Not since once or twice in childhood had she been cleaned out with an enema. Shame upon shame. No one ever told her.

A. lost all sense of time. She overheard one of the nurses say to another,

"It was an awful busy day. We kept four patients on the road-"

A. realized with no satisfaction that she was one of the four who was kept on the road.

When she saw a colored patient being wheeled in for the other bed, A. felt happy. The intern with his patient showed such fine, gentle care. For once A. was envious of the poor woman who was a ward patient. As this was the woman's four baby, she was soon whisked away. A. labored on alone. If she died--no one would know.

Now in dreadful agoney and terrified of still being alone, A. gave up pretense of courage, and began to whimper. The nurse who prepped her came in and hugged her,

"It'll be over pretty soon, honey-"

"Oh, no-" A. sobbed.

"You're lying. I'll be here forever-"

The nurse forced a thin smile and left.

Hot. A. was burning. If only she could find a way of getting cool.

There was a metal folding chair beside the bed-- probably cold. A. carefully climbed onto the chair and stood with her feet absorbing coolness. Afraid that one of the staff would come in and give her hell, she returned to bed."

A. twisted for a comfortable position. Suddenly she felt sticky fluid coming from her body. Blood. A. called,

"Nurse, nurse- please come-"

A blonde nurse came, saw the blood and called,

"Someone get Dr. Malcolm."

Surprisingly soon, Dr.Malcolm, an anesthetist, an intern, and three nurses arrived.

Dr. Malcolm gently probed inside. He said to the intern,

"Feel inside--it's breech. I can feel the baby's buttocks-"

A. was gripped by a new terror. Was it just an old wives tale that breech babies turned out to be crippled? No, of course not. Those were the ignorant women in the ignorant years.

The anesthetist worked but the pain became maddeningly worse.

A. wept,

"Can't you give me anything?"

The anesthetist said,

"It'll only be a minute-"

A. cried,

"You're lying. It's medieval.."

Dr. Malcolm ordered,

"Someone page Dr. Sheridan."

All the pretty magazine articles were all lies too. Written like so many jolly rides on a merry-go-round with pink spun candy in one hand and a hot dog in the other. Liers...liers.

The pain eased up. They were still paging Dr. sheridan, the pediatrician. A. worried that the baby was premature.

The anesthetist said,

"Now isn't this a wonderful way to have a baby?"

A. kept silent as they moved her bump bump down a corridor to the equally ugly delivery room. The same bilious green walls and pipes painted the same color in an effort to disguise the pipes.

Things were going badly. A. sensed it in the chilly wordless atmosphere. She heard something rattling down the hall. Was it an incubator?

Tilting her head back slightly A. could see a huge wall clock like the ones in grammar school. The minutes dragged interminably. The nurses looked sadly at her as they passed back and forth. One even asked if there was anything she wanted.

A. said,

"Anything cool-- ginger ale, water-"

The nurse gently explained why she mustn't have any.

Dr. Sheridan arrived. A. was frozen mute. Any sound from her might cause disaster.

She strained and strained to hear the baby's cry--any infant sound.

A. prayed,

Please God- take care of my baby. Please don't let anything bad happen.

Fear interrupted her prayer. She couldn't pray any more. Sad eyes all around A.

Then the flight of a feather lifted from her body.

A nurse asked,

"Shall I give her m.s.?"

Morphine sulfate. Wasn't m.s.--morphine sulfate? Why?

After the m.s. A. was shifted to a gurney and taken to the elevator.

A. was paralyzed. She didn't dare ask what happened. She didn't want to know.

She closed her eyes against reality. Dr. Malcolm was standing beside her.

"I'm sorry, A., we did everything we could but your baby was born dead."

It was shrieking weird. A. already half knew. Why wasn't she screaming and wailing?

Into the elevator on her way to the ward.

Now A. was in a room filled with new mothers.

For a while A. listened to their happy new baby chirping.

"I never thought I'd have a boy. When you have two girls, chances are the third will be a girl."

"I don't know this is my first. I wanted a boy but I got a girl."

"Who does yours look like? They say mine looks like my husband."

"My sister says mine doesn't look like either of us. She says it's the spitting image of the milkman!"

The mothers laughed.

Suddenly it came to A. that she had no baby. The baby was gone.

She put her hand to her belly. It was gone.

A. called out, Please, - I just lost my baby."

: There was a murmur,

"Oh, we're sorry--we're so sorry-"

The weeping came uncontrolled. Several mothers began crying with her.

Now A's crying was an animal howl. Alien.

The nurses let her cry out this deep disbelieving grief for a while and then came with sedatives.

Sleep was escape and it was good. Perhaps death would take over and take the grief away.

After a sleeping a few hours, A. awoke believing that the baby hadn't died and she had actually suffered an anesthesia nightmare.

Daylight. The room was cruel bright. The new mothers looked at her with curiosity and sympathy.

It hadn't been a nightmare. A. cried again.

Newly arrived on duty a nurse marched in and commanded everyone out of bed.

A. rolled over to face the wall.

The nurse strode over and barked,

"Well, what's the mater with you?"

A. moaned.

The nurse ordered,

"Get up. What are you moaning about? You got your baby-"

A. wept,

"But I didn't...but I didn't-"

The nurse softly apologized and helped her on with her slippers.

Holding onto the bed, A. made her way to the sink at the end of the ward.

She began blacking out but quickly splashed cold water, on her face, drank some of the icy water. Then limped back to bed.

Reality seeped into A.'s consciousness.

No baby. A failure. Any hillbilly in America could have a live beautiful baby without a miss. She failed. No baby.

How could she face V., her mother and father, V's relatives and her Brooklyn friends?

She planned to die. First she'd stop eating.

When they brought breakfast, she didn't eat.

A. dreaded V's arrival.

There he was looking like a whipped boy.

When V. saw A., he rushed to her.

They clung together and wept.

Soon he stopped and said,

"Thank God, you're alright. --as long as you're alright-"

A. knew she looked awful--pale and disheviled.

If only she could tell him how terrible it had been--how terrible it was-"

A's throat was constricted.

V.'s voice trembled,

"Is it alright if they perform an autopsy on the baby?"

A. said,

"Yes...O.K."

There wasn't much either seemed able to say.

V. said,

"Is it O.K. if I go back to work?"

She nodded yes and bit her lip not to cry again.

V. left.

Now the babies were brought to their mothers.

A. was given phenobarbital and penicillin.

Dr. Malcolm came on rounds and stopped at her bed.

He looked sad but in her bitterness A. gave him no sympathy.

He said,

"How are you feeling this morning?"

A. didn't answer for a long time. Then she said,

"What happened? What went wrong?

He said,

"First of all, the baby was normal in all respects-"

Tears welled up but A. didn't cry.

Dr. Malcolm continued,

The baby was a girl. She weighed five pounds-

Tears overflowed and A. wiped them away. He didn't have to tell her--she knew that a five pound baby wouldn't have to be put in an incubator.

The aides came rattling in with the food carts.

A. pushed the food to the side of her sliding table.

Dr. Malcolm frowned,

"A., is there anything else, I can tell you?"

"Why? Why did it happen?"

"I'll tell you this- Death was caused by a premature separation of the placenta. Do you understand?"

A. was no longer on the verge of weeping.

"Yes, I kind of understand-"

Dr. Malcolm knew he was being falsely upbeat but said anyway,

"Ill clear out of here so you can eat your lunch."

As he was leaving, he said,

"Dr. Kooperman is back and he'll come to see you tomorrow-"

"Oh, sure," A. thought, "toss the sticky ball to Kooperman-"

A. lost track of the days. Was it two or three or four days?

Every time the aides brought food, A. pushed it aside.

The way to stop the pain was to starve herself to death.

V. came to see her twice a day.

A. told him Dr. Malcolm's diagnosis-

V. said,

"Yeah, I know. He told me over the phone. I still don't know why the placenta separated-"

A. shrugged and wept,

"Neither do I-

He said,

"The nurse at the desk says you're not eating. You have to eat to keep your strength up.

A. softly said,

"For what? Tell me why?"

The head nurse stood in the doorway and announced,

"I'm sorry. Visiting hours are over-"

V. said,

"I have to leave anyway. Jimmy, didn't bring our meat order-"

After he was gone, A. cried again, shaking her head in disbelief. Her life had gone crazy. Nothing made sense.

Nina, the dark-eyed, chubby woman who occupied the bed next to her, came to A's side.

"A., your husband just lost his baby too. Do you want him to lose you too? You have to eat. Try a little every time- Think of your husband- Do you love him?"

Tears dripped down A.'s face,

"Yes, I love him."

The women were given their babies. A. was given phenobarbital and penicillin.

When they brought breakfast the next morning, A. nibbled at the cold scrambled eggs.

Nina was watching. She said,

"Hey, that's good. Why don't you eat some toast-

A. smiled,

There were good people in the world but they weren't people of authority

A. said,

"O.K., Nina--for you and my husband."

The large sorrow lump was lodged in her throat. She spreaded grape jelly on the toast."

Dr. Kooperman came into the ward and immediately saw her. Thankfully, he wasn't smiling falsely.

Coming to her bed, he said,

"I'm glad to see you're eating- How are you doing otherwise?"

A. shrugged that she didn't know. She had pains where they cut her, also bleeding and belly cramps. But she couldn't muster the spirit to tell him.

He said,

"Any questions?"

A. said,

"Why?"

Dr. Kooperman said,

"I'm terribly sorry this happened. It's such a rare case. I could give you the statitics but it wouldn't be much comfort. This might have happened even if I were here. Originally they thought it was a breech- but it turned out to be a chin presentation. The baby drowned in the blood-"

A. bit her lip to keep from crying. She turn her face to the window.

He said,

"As far as I can see, there's no reason to keep you here. You'll be happier at home. I've signed your discharge papers. I've called your husband. He'll be before eleven- We 've made an appointment for you to see me at the office in three weeks."

Even with the mean old man and the wicked witch, home with V. was a better place than this- She had to escape the nightmare and leave it behind.

A. was on her way home. The February sky was deep purple.

As they left the hospital, A. began crying,

V. asked,

"What's wrong? Are you O.K.?"

A. said,

"Who ever heard of leaving a maternity hospital with empty arms?"

V. shrugged helplessly. There was no comfort-"

The apartment felt cold and bare. Quickly glancing towards what was to have been the nursery, A. felt relief that the crib had been dismantled and stored away-

The mean old man and stepwitch made no hypocritical effort to visit or console for which A. was grateful.

A.'s mother, rarely affectionate and awkward with comfort, was preparing a hearty barley vegetable soup.

Lost for words, she hustled A. to bed. Exhausted, A. wept into the pillow.

What had she done to anger God? What unforgivable sin? She was falling prey to self-pity. What was wrong with self-pity?

A. thought if they hadn't kept her bouncing on the road all day...If they hadn't left her alone during that long labor...A Caesarean might have saved the baby...If Dr. Malcolm hadn't gone off to the islands...her weeping took another direction. It was her fault for being so blindly ignorant. The mean old man who sent her hysterically weeping on the floor was guilty. Bloody murderers--all.

V. rejected A's mother's offer of soup. Instead he went down to the grocery store, knowing full well the mean old man would shout at him for missing taking in the morning deliveries.

Slowly A. ate the hearty soup and wondered what she was going to do with the rest of her barren life.

Later that afternoon A.'s mother asked V. to bring her various vegetables and ground lamb to make dolma for the next day's dinner.

Knowing that her mother's way of loving was to make meals for the days ahead. A. didn't protest that she wanted to be up to make meals.

Bitter days followed. Painful milk spilled from her breasts but there was no baby to suck it. A's mother joked,

"If you were a cow you'd be worth your weight in gold."

It wasn't funny or consoling.

A's pretty Aunt Teresse scolded,

"Don't cry. Soon you'll be like the woman in the nursery story with so many children they'll be falling out of the shoe."

The notes of comfort kept arriving,

"Time heals eveything."

But time moved at a stark tedious pace. A. wondered which day in time the milk would stop, the episiotomy or the deeper wound in her heart no longer ached.

Late Saturday morning V's accountant, Eddie Weinstein and his wife, Marian, were afternoon visitors. They were tacful and kind. A. blessed them for not leaving her alone in this vast world of strangers.

A. was touched when Evelyn Mahoney, a gray-haired,nineteen forties chorus girl came to offer condolences. Draped over her head was an odd black shaw. She wore a brown, cotton housedress, black knee socks and worn mocassins. Evelyn lived with and was being kept by a tiny man from the Philippines.

"Can I get you like a cup of coffee and a donut?" A. asked Evelyn.

Evelyn cheered.

"That would be nice-"

A. slowly set up the coffee and donuts on a plate. She hated moving so slowly.

Noting A's slow motion, Evelyn set into the story of her shoulder, spine and knee arthritis which plagued her following a bus accident.

A. murmured sympathy.

Silence. Then A. asked how Evelyn's daughter-in-law liked her new job at the brewery-

Evelyn frowned. She made no secret of her dislike for her daughter-in-law who she blamed for not giving her son, Joseph,any babies.

A. wanted to say it wasn't always the woman's fault but didn't have the energy to offer a lesson in reproduction biology.

All talk ceased. They were uncomfortably conscious of the loud ticking of the kitchen clock.

Finally and mercifully Evelyn stood. "I better be getting back. You know who will be coming home and wanting his supper-"

Opening the door Evelyn nearly collided into her daughter-in-law, Lorraine.

For an instant Evelyn had no comment but quickly rallied,

"Now, if this ain't a coincidence-"

and left without further comment.

A. called out to the departing Evelyn,

"Thanks for coming-"

But Evelyn was thumping down the stairs before hearing A's thanks

A. waved tall and thin Lorraine in. She was wearing a tight yellow sweater which called attention to small breasts under a brassier with pointed cups.

Lorraine was more innocent than not.

A. said,

"This is my lucky day. Come on in. Want to sit in the kitchen or the parlor?"

Lorraine clumsily shrugged,

"Whatever you want-"

She extended the large suit box to A., blushing and apologizing,

"I didn't know what to get-"

A. motioned Lorraine to the sofa,

"You didn't have to get me anything, Lorraine. I wasn't expecting gifts-

Lorraine looked about the room,

"It's nice. You got artistic taste."

A. said,

"It's hard to decorate a small apartment like this with a limited budget."

Lorraine smiled,

"You too-"

A. said,

"How about a tiny glass of wine before I open the box-"

Lorraine said, "That would be swell. But I'll have to brush my teeth before Joe gets home- He don't like girls that drink at home."

A. cut sliced white Americdan cheese into quaarters and put them on a plate with Ritz crackers.

She passed the plate to Lorraine,

"Have some cheese and crackers. They go nicely with the wine."

Lorraine said,

"I'm sorry about --you know. I don't know how to say it-"

A said,

"That's O.K. I know what you mean. May I open the box now?"

Lorraine said,

"Sure- I bought it for you."

Wrapped in several layers of tissue paper was a small ruby colored vast.

A. said,

"How nice. I don't have a decent flower vase."

Stuck in a box was a royal blue enamel coffee pot.

A. said,

"Very cheerful. Blue is V.'s favorite color."

Wrapped in more tissue paper was a pair of pillow cases elaborately embroidered with hearts, roses and ribbons.

A. was deeply touched and on the verge of tears, when Lorraine explained,

"My Aunt Harriet embroidered them. I hope they ain't too fussy for your taste-"

A. said,

"I don't have the luxury of being fussy. Lorraine, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The pillow cases are the prettiest I've ever seen-"

A. blew her nose and asked if Lorraine wanted a bit more wine.

Before the visit was over, Lorraine told A. that she had seen a gynecologist about her inability to get pregnant. She asked what to do about Joe's reluctance to see a urologist and how to handle the nagging of her mother-inlaw.

Now A. was exhausted from the three visits but wanted only to be helpful to this dear girl. She said,

"Lorraine, there are good reasons for everything that happens. Just relax and go by what you deep down want. The outcome will be good--I know.

Lorraine said,

"Thanks for the snack. I better go now-"

A. said,

"Thank you so much for your visit--and the gifts. It was like a visit from an angel. I hope everything goes O.K. for you."