Abortion is an "For Better or Worse excerpt

Abortion

Chicago, Illinois

1936

 Nausea woke her.

Not wanting to wake Eli, slipping out of bed, she walked through the darkened apartment into the bathroom, shut the door, then turned the light on.

 Her eyes closed against the harsh, white glare, Rhea stood before the mirror with her palms pressed against the cold, porcelain sink. Taking a deep breath, swiping her forearm across her clammy forehead, squinting, looking at her reflection, God, I’m so pale!

Intensifying... As a wave churning in her stomach, the nausea intensified. Fighting it, Rhea attempted to  hold it down but, coming into her throat, turning quickly, kneeling on the black and white ceramic tile floor, lifting the toilet seat...

Awoken by the sound of gagging, coming into the bathroom, “Re, honey.”  Squatting  beside his wife, brushing back a few long wisps of hair that had fallen over her sweat-glistened forehead, in so doing, also feeling for a fever, “What’s wrong?”

Breathing deeply, leaning back, “Nothing, Eli.” she said without looking at him. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a min...” Gagging again, Rhea bent her head into the toilet... Finished, lifting her head, she looked at her husband.

Her eyes red and teary, her nose was running and a thick strand of sputum lay across her chin.

Taking a washcloth, running it under cold water, he wiped her face, rinsed the washcloth, wrung it out, folded it in thirds and, pressing it against her forehead, “Know what this reminds me of, Re?” he said, and before she could respond, added, “when you were pregnant with Roger.”

“ ‘Don’t say that’!” Pushing his hand away angrily, “Don’t you even think it! God-damn-it! I am notpregnant! ! Not ever! Eli, do me a favor, will you; just leave me alone! Please, go back to bed!”

Taken back by the vehemence in her voice, “Okay, Re,” he said, “but I think you ought to call Schaffer in the morning.”

                                           ******

After three sleepless, nauseous nights, Rhea agreed with her husband; it was time to call the doctor.

                                          **** *

 “We’ll wait for the rabbit, of course,  but...” 

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, Rhea stared at the back of his white smock.

“...I do think it’ll be positive, and if I have my guess, it’ll be around the middle of...”

Not wanting to hear it, “No, Doc!” not letting him finish.  “ ‘I can’t’! I just can’t have another baby!”

“Rhea,” Misunderstanding her motives. “I see no reason why you ‘can’t’. You’re strong, healthy, and certainly well within age.”

“You don’t understand!” Bounding off the examination table, seizing Schaffer by the lapels. “I ‘don’t want another baby’! I won’t have another baby! Please, Doc, ‘please’ do something!”

“Rhea, stop it!”  Holding her wrists, forcing her hands to her sides, holding them till he felt her relax then, holding her at arms length, looking into her face. “We don’t even know for sure yet. But if you are...” seeing the fear. “Rhea, it ‘is’ Eli’s baby!” Hesitating, Schaffer added, “Isn’t it?”

Replying vaguely, “ ‘Eli’s baby’?” Pulling from Schaffer’s hands. Going to the window, Damn! Thinking, Damn, damn! damn! I hope to God it is Eli’s baby! Turning from the window, looking at Schaffer,  feigning anger. “Of ‘course’ it’s Eli’s baby! How can you ask me such a question? It’s just that... “Damn it, Doc! I don’t want another baby!” Not sure it’s the thought of having another child, the fear that  it might not be her husband’s child, or, most likely both.  Sensing the onset of hysteria. Closing her eyes, breathing deeply while forcing herself to calm down. “Please, Doc!” she said in a soft, pleading voice. “Doctor Schaffer, ‘please’!” Imploring. “You can do something...” Hesitating before asking, “or send me to someone who...”

“ ‘Abortion’? You are asking me for an ‘abortion’!” Taking hold of her upper arms, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh. “ ‘How dare you’?” he said incredulously. “I’ve been the doctor to your family for twenty years! You know better than to ask me for an abortion!” His anger subsiding, putting an arm around her shoulders, “I’m going to give you a prescription for some quarter-grain Phenobarbital, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow when we have the test results. Till then nothing’s conclusive. So don’t worry! Go home, relax, every thing’ll be okay.”  Releasing her. Taking a prescription pad from the pocket of his smock, writing a moment, tearing the small sheet out, he handed it to her and once again placing an arm about her shoulders, led Rhea out of the examination room into the waiting room where under the watchful eye of Miss Laurette Zabriski – Doctor Schaffer’s receptionist/nurse-assistant and bookkeeper –  three-and-a-half year old Roger had been patiently sitting on the carpeted floor, coloring in a coloring book.

“Mommy!” Seeing his mother Roger clambered to his feet. “Why’d it take so long, Mommy. I gotta make pee-pee bad.”

“Come on, Roger.” Taking him by the hand. “I’ll take you.” Glancing at Rhea, Schaffer steered the boy through the door of the waiting room.

Her hands shaking, Rhea took a pack of cigarettes from her purse, rummaged till she found her lighter, then paced back and forth till Schaffer returned with her son.

                             *****

The rattle of a streetcar not usually bothering her, on that day, in her hyper-agitated state, each rattle annoyingly jarred throughout her body.

There had been three men that Rhea had intercourse with in the past four months: her husband, of course, and Ben Hammish, the sixty-seven year old furrier who had trouble ‘getting ‘it’ up’ and when he did ‘get ‘it up’, couldn’t keep it up and, Christ, she’d thought, Of all people!

There were two ‘firsts’ with Paul Sorenson.  One: he was not the owner of the new drug store on the corner, he was ‘just’ the Pharmacist which practically put him in the ‘working stiff’ class. But because Rhea was used to Jewish type, basically dark-haired, dark-eyed men, she had been fascinated with Paul Sorenson because he was the largest – once she got it in her hands, Rhea found out just how large Paul really was – and the best looking man she had ever seduced. Two: Paul had, Christ, the blondest hair and bluest eyes of ‘anyone’ Rhea had even considered seducing.

‘Always’ careful! ‘Extremely’  careful, Rhea never allowed ‘any’ man, not even sixty-seven year old Ben Hammish near her unless he was wearing a ‘skin’.

 Paul?  But Paul, Rhea thought, being so big, maybe it broke!

Rhea knew Eli had been wanting another child... ‘No’, Eli had been begging for another child, preferably – as if she would have anything to say about it – a  daughter so, Could he have? she thought, Would Eli have the guts, the nerve to do it? After all, it ‘was’ possible. He could have done it without a skin, and if the room was dark enough – and it usually was – and if I went right to sleep – as she usually did; sometimes even while Eli was doing it – how would I know?     Thinking this, Rhea’s anger flared briefly, then, as much as she did not want another child, Rhea felt a ray of hope because, at least, the baby would be Eli’s, if in fact... But I’d “make book on it”! She thought, I am pregnant! But still, Knowing how I feel about it, Would Eli really have the nerve to do it? To trick me into thinking he was wearing a skin? No! She concluded. In my house I’m the boss and he knows I’d kill him and he’d never  have the guts to do it!

Yet?

Rhea’s thoughts returned to the alternatives: Ben Hammish?– The giver of her new red fox stole– Sixty-seven year old, wilty, ‘shooting blanks’ Ben Hammish? ‘Ridiculous’!

Paul? But Paul’s got two kids! He’d never do it without a skin. As for the prophylactic breaking? I suppose it’s possible, but not very probable.  Besides, we’ve only been together during the day, and if somehow he forgot, or was too ‘hot’ to take time to put one on,  I sure as hell wouldn’t forget, or get ‘that’ hot! But yet, skins, like everything else are not always perfect, and Rhea personally knew of two women whom had become pregnant – so they’d said – while taking proper precautions.  But, Jesus, Paul’s so big, and if the skin did break... He’s a druggist, for God sake! He’d know! He’d give me something!

Once again, for at least the dozenth time, mentally ticking off her alternatives.

Ben Hammish was too preposterous to even consider, thus leaving Paul and Eli as candidates for pending fatherhood: Paul, a ‘loving’ husband and father, twice over, would never purposely cause a pregnancy; at least in a woman other than his wife.

Eli: definitely a loving father and husband just might on the other hand, if he had the nerve.

Before returning home. Going to the drug store on the corner, relieved to see that Paul was not there at the time, Rhea handed the Phenobarbital prescription to the store’s owner.

Next morning, smoking cigarette after cigarette while sitting on the sofa with her legs folded beneath her, gazing out the window. Seeing nothing Rhea waited for the phone to ring as Roger, sensing his mother’s distraction, sat on the floor playing with his toys.

At eleven forty-five, a.m., standing, going to her purse in the bedroom, Rhea took not one, but two of the ‘Phenos’ Doctor Schaffer had prescribed, then lighting another cigarette, went to the kitchen, put water to boil in a sauce-pan and one slice of ‘Silvercup’ in the toaster. Sitting, she stared out the kitchen window until she heard the water bubble. Placing two eggs in the pan,  turning the three minute timer, bringing it with her, returning to the window Rhea sat till the sand ran out... Taking the pot to the sink and pouring the water down the drain, she tore the toast into small pieces in a saucer, cracked the eggs, mixed them together with the toast then called Roger to lunch Rhea then returned to the sofa, lit another cigarette, and stared out the window.

****

Doctor Schaffer did not call till later that afternoon.

****

“ ‘God-damn-it’!” slamming the phone onto the cradle.

Taking two more “Phenos”, returning to the sofa. Okay,

so I’m pregnant! she thought. There’s not

a damned thing I can do about it, and when I get fat

and ugly again, there’s not a damned thing I can do

about thateither, but, “ ‘God-damn-it’!” Doubling her

fists, stopping just short of pounding her stomach.

“I  hate you!”

Napping on the floor, Rhea’s sharp utterance woke

Roger. Thinking his mother angry with him, the little

boy began to cry.

“No, baby, it’s not you!” Spreading her arms, Roger came into them. Holding him, “Shhh,” she said, comforting her son, “Mama loves you!”

Well, as they say, Rhea thought, the second one’s always easier than the first and, damn it to hell,  I sure hope so!

October 15, 1936 

Coming out of the ether, Rhea’s first words ‘did’ surprise the nurse... but not Doctor Schaffer.

“What color hair’s it got?”

‘It’?

Allowed in the room a few minutes later. Standing along-side the bed, Eli looked at his wife then, “Oh, Re,” at his daughter. “She’s so beautiful!”

Pulling a chair to bedside, sitting while leaning forward he kissed Rhea on the forehead as, reaching across her chest, gently caressed the baby’s head, “Re, we need a name.”

Truth was, Rhea so hated the thought of having another child – especially  ‘this’ child of dubious parentage – that, as though choosing a name would give credence to its conception and birth, she did not, ‘could not’ force herself to consider a name.

Looking at the face of the swathed newborn that lay besiher for the very first time, “I named Roger!” Rhea said. “Go on, Eli, ‘you’ name it!”

‘It’?

Not expecting this honor. The man’s eyes brimming with joy and gratitude, not noticing, ‘it’.  “How’s about... for my uncle Morton?” Eli asked. “ ‘Marsha’ okay with you, Re?”

In a bitter, tired voice. “Yes, Eli,” Rhea replied, ‘Marsha’s just  ‘fine’!”

So overcome with joy that besides, ‘it’, Eli also did not notice the hateful inflection in the tone his wife’s voice.

As, seeing the unmistakable...

Many infants are born with light eyes – that, in most cases darken later – especially if one parent has brown eyes, as did Rhea, and one parent light eyes, as did Eli.

Complexion? Who can tell the true complexion of a newborn?

As the color of the hair on many newborns change as time goes on, and as the color of Eli’s hair was sandy-brown. Looking closely at the face of the swathed newborn that lay beside her for the very first time….

 Paul? Eli?

Seeing the unmistakable...

Her seething fury – that Eli would ‘surely’ hear about – temporarily overcome by relief...

Having ‘no’ doubt now. “Eli, did you notice?” Rhea said, “She’s got ‘your’ nose!”