Читать книгу Matrons and Madams - Sharon Johnston - Страница 7

New York City, 1914

All the way to New York, Lily had made up scenarios: Beth needed money; was engaged; had a serious illness; was moving back home. She stepped out of the taxi and took a deep breath of the big city air. She gaped at the strange surroundings — tall apartment buildings bookended by little shops and eateries. She plastered herself against the taxi as a bicycle whizzed past.

“Nice place ya got here,” the taxi driver said as he smiled at the twenty-five-cent tip. Lily gawked at the eight-storey brick building where Beth lived. Shimmering late August heat rose up from the sidewalk. The driver plopped her suitcase down and puttered off, looking for the next customer. Lily entered the apartment lobby and scanned the mailboxes until she found the name Mac Whittaker, and under it, Beth White. She pushed the buzzer for apartment 302.

“It’s Lily! Are you going to let me in?”

There was a giggle, followed by a click. Lily pulled open the wrought-iron door and started up the carpeted stairs. Her nose crinkled at the musty smell. As she knocked at the door of 302, she heard a door slam inside the apartment and then light footsteps. Beth opened the door slightly and poked her head out.

“I’m not dressed,” she whispered. Stepping back momentarily, she opened the door wide. Her satin slip clung to her body with the humidity. Her chestnut hair was tied back, making her face with its aquiline features and striking blue eyes seem gaunt.

Embracing Beth, Lily could feel the round hardness of her sister’s belly. “How are you faring in New York?” Lily asked. “Mom and Dad made me promise to bring back details.”

“Let’s not stand at the door. The building is filled with nosy tenants.” Beth closed the door behind Lily and dragged her to a sofa upholstered in a nubby green fabric, pushing several theatre reviews to the floor. She plopped down, pulling Lily beside her.

“Lily, I’m pregnant. I don’t think that’s the kind of news Mom and Dad want to hear.”

“I can’t believe it! You’re going to have a baby?”

Beth slipped a cigarette from a Pall Mall package and knocked the end gently on the coffee table. She took a match from a glass box and struck it under the table, lighting her cigarette and inhaling deeply.

“Want one?” she asked.

“Not a habit I’ve started.” Lily shifted to face her. “When are you due?”

“The baby would be born close to Christmas. I’m five months along. But I don’t want a baby. I’m going to have an abortion — and I wanted you with me. Please don’t judge me, Lily. Life in New York has been complicated and not what I planned.”

Several minutes passed before they spoke again.

“Beth, tell me what’s been going on. Who’s the father? Why can’t you have the baby and put it up for adoption? Why can’t you keep it? Come home, and Mom will look after it.”

Beth tossed her head and scoffed. “Me, the favoured daughter, bringing home an illegitimate son or daughter? It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to have this baby.” Her tears softened the hardness of her voice.

Lily got up and sat on the end of the sofa. She couldn’t remember ever having seen her sister cry.

“Beth, you can’t go through with this. At five months you might injure yourself, or harm the baby and still deliver it alive. You could end up with a defective child.” She shook her head in dismay that Beth was being so foolish. “Come home and I’ll look after you. I’m not afraid of Mom’s opinion. I’m begging you!”

Lily scanned the room for evidence of another person. “I saw the name Mac Whittaker beside yours. Is Mac the father of the baby?” An end table was scarred with cigarette burns. Lily put her finger on a burn mark and picked up a butt smeared with lipstick. “Someone’s a careless smoker. Who else lives in this apartment?” Lily stared at the two closed doors off the living room.

“Are you conducting an investigation?” asked Beth. She got up and went to the kitchenette, which was separated from the living room by a serving hatch that looked like a homemade adaptation. Lily watched her sister pour two glasses of water.

“I’m guessing Mac is the careless-smoking father.”

“He is a smoker, but he’s not the father.”

Lily gulped down the water, plunking the glass beside the ashtray. “Phew, I hate the smell of cigarettes!”

Beth let out a snort and smiled. “Getting back to Mac. He’s an aspiring actor. Ben Shenker is the owner of the theatre and he adores Mac, but he’s also married with two daughters.” Lily cocked her head, looking pensive. “Neither Mac nor I can afford the forty-dollars-a-month rent for this place on our own, but the next step down is pretty awful. I don’t really know if Mac’s queer or not, but he does need help with the rent.”

“So you’re saying Mac is a kept man?” Lily said, wrinkling up her nose in distaste.

“Mac’s a nice man and we get along. But he’s certainly not the father.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “How do you pay your half, Beth?” Lily reached out and took Beth’s hand, shaking her head with slow comprehension. “So you and Mac are both being looked after.”

“Don’t distort the situation.”

“Who is the father?”

“The father’s unimportant. I’m getting rid of the baby. But it’s worth noting that he didn’t offer to care for the child. Men like a sign of their virility, but not the responsibility.”

“I don’t know what is worse: Mac in a secret relationship with a man who has a family, or you having an abortion.”

“Don’t judge me, Lily! In the theatre you sleep with someone who will advance your career. It was my bad luck to get pregnant.”

Lily groaned and put her head in her hands. She was surprised at her sister’s coarseness. Beth was spoiled, but she’d never been coarse. Beth’s right, she thought. She would be a huge disappointment to our parents. Lily wondered what story she could fabricate about her visit to New York.

“Beth, how on earth did you ever get into such a seedy situation?” Lily threw up her hands and walked to the window. Cars whizzed by in the street below, honking as they dodged pedestrians. She was surprised at how much love she felt for her younger sister. How could she have suffered such a reversal of fortune? She let out a long sigh and turned back to Beth.

“There are hundreds of couples who would adopt your child.”

“Sorry, Lily. I’ve made up my mind. There’s a woman doctor who’s going to do the abortion tomorrow night.”

“Beth, I pinched some laudanum from Dad, thinking you might be sick. I wouldn’t have if I’d known you were having an abortion.”

“I used to pilfer laudanum and sell it for cigarettes.” Beth broke into a guilty grin. “I always knew when a delivery of narcotics was arriving. Dad had a calendar of shipments in his desk, and I’d look through, noting the dates. The delivery boy could kiss me for one bottle and touch my breast for two.”

Lily shook her head. “Beth, you could fall in a cesspool and come up smelling like a rose.”

“Let’s hope I come up like a rose tomorrow.”

“All right, enough for now. Where should I put my suitcase?”

Beth led Lily into a small bedroom with a double bed, its iron frame painted white. Lily recognized the quilt her parents had given her sister when she’d left for New York. She heaved her suitcase onto the bed and retrieved the laudanum.

Later, Lily and Beth lay on the bed listening to the night noises: laughter, shouts, curses, tires screeching, horns honking. “This is nighttime in New York,” Beth said.

Lily tucked the threadbare blanket under her head and said, “I can’t believe you brought this horrid old relic of your childhood to New York!”

Beth laughed in response. Then Lily asked, “What happens when Mac’s friend comes over?”

“I stay for a while and then leave discreetly.”

“Neither of us likes each other’s noises.”

They both laughed.

Once Beth had fallen asleep, Lily curled herself around her. She lay awake listening to Beth’s rhythmic breathing, then pulled the blanket from under her head and tucked it around her sister.

In the early morning, Lily unwound herself from Beth and slipped out of bed. She put on Beth’s red satin dressing gown, another going-away gift from her parents. The dressing gown reminded Lily of her parents, and she wondered again what she would tell them when she returned. She knew she couldn’t say anything about Beth’s abortion. Lily’s mood darkened at the thought of it.

Beth came into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “I thought you might have gone back home,” she said, with a panicked expression.

“You know I wouldn’t walk out on you. But I haven’t changed my mind about the abortion. It’s a dumb idea.”

“Lily, let’s not bicker. I’m starved!” Beth opened the icebox door and an odour of uncomplimentary smells wafted out. Dill pickles, chocolate and caramel sauce, sliced onions, Polish sausage, russet apples, and hard cheese were stored in jars, plastic plates, or bits of paper on the upper shelf. A glass container marked Mac sat on the bottom rack. Beth piled onion slices on a plate and covered them with the chocolate. Lily’s brown eyes became owl-like as her sister gobbled the onions and chocolate sauce.

“Are you having cravings?” she asked, screwing her nose up in disgust, and they laughed. Then Beth clasped her hand over her mouth and rushed to the toilet. Lily put her hand on her own mouth hearing Beth heaving in the bathroom. She had a weak stomach at the best of times.

A couple of minutes later, she heard Beth flushing the toilet and brushing her teeth. She reappeared looking perfectly composed.

“Is there someplace nearby where I can eat normal food?” Lily groaned.

“There’s a cheap diner down the street called Dingley Place. People know me at the diner, so please don’t mention the abortion.” Beth narrowed her eyes, and for a brief moment Lily recalled Beth’s face when she was being unkind.

The morning was cooler than when she had stepped out of the taxi the evening before. Older residents were sitting on steps or parked on chairs they had dragged to the sidewalk.

“Hi, Beth. Who’s the friend?” A plump, olive-skinned lady sat with her feet well apart to keep her fleshy thighs cool as she shelled peas into a bowl on her lap. She smiled broadly when Beth indicated that Lily was her sister. The lady had perfect false teeth.

“This is Signora Bumbacco,” Beth said with an exaggerated Italian accent. “She’s the building super, and she makes the best calzone in America.”

“I make some for the dinner tonight?”

The elderly woman took Lily’s hand and gave it a little shake. Lily returned her smile with a knot in her stomach, as she remembered that after dinner there would be an abortion. In a flash of panic, she hoped she wouldn’t faint during the procedure.

“We both have dates tonight,” Beth said.

Signora Bumbacco gave Lily an appraising look and grinned. “I bring the calzone early?”

“That would be nice. I love calzone,” Beth said.

At the diner, Lily ordered coffee and cinnamon toast, and Beth asked for an egg, sunny-side up, and hot chocolate. “I promise I’ll hold this down.”

“I hope so!”

“Women are so free in New York,” Lily said, glancing around. “Mom would go shopping alone, but she’d never sit alone in a diner. And women smoke in public! Beth, return to New York if you want after the birth, but please come home first.” She leaned close. “If you still want to date men who will pay for your apartment, then Dad has things at the pharmacy that you can get with a doctor’s order. You just have to say you’re married. Or I can filch a few.”

“You mean condoms,” Beth whispered.

“Exactly. You never want to go through this again!”

Beth’s expression darkened. She looked around the diner and shrugged. “It’s a man’s world, Lily. You and I grew up with Dad. He’s the anomaly. Let’s get off the abortion. Tell me about you.”

Lily regaled her sister with tales about her year in Truro, opting to concentrate on the lighter stories. She admitted to being spurned by James Barnaby, who preferred medicine to girls. They reminisced about high-school experiences. Recalling the story of Ed Parsons looking under the washroom door, they both laughed. It was the first time Lily had seen a true smile on her sister’s face since she’d arrived. She was glad she had put their rancour behind her and come to New York when asked.

After they’d paid their bill, the two sisters headed to a nearby park, where they threw peanuts to grey, black, and brown squirrels until one got too aggressive and hopped on Lily’s purse. She shook off the pesky animal with a little shriek. Then the squirrel landed up on Beth’s bag and she dropped it, jumping aside. They grabbed their handbags and hurried out of the park, laughing.

They walked twenty blocks to the theatre where Beth was to have had a small part before the mayor of New York objected to the play. “When the manager tried to argue that the Girl with the Whooping Cough was not an obscene play, the mayor closed the theatre,” Beth said. “I hope to have a part in the next production here.”

They returned in the late afternoon to find that while they had been exploring, Signora Bumbacco had deposited the calzone in Beth’s icebox. She had also wiped down the icebox and thrown out the food that had gone bad.

“Not everyone on the street gets calzone from the matriarch of the street,” Beth said, pulling it out of the icebox. She poked at the crust to inspect the filling.

“I don’t think you should eat if you’re going to be anesthetized,” Lily said.

“Who says she’s going to put me out? All it takes is nerve, a coat hanger, water, and heat.” Beth looked her sister in the eye with bravado and then added, “Lily, I’m scared. That’s why I underlined ‘please come.’ You have the nerve. You’ve always been stronger than me. Now, let me eat a bit and stop treating this as though it’s the Last Supper.”

Lily found she had no appetite and put the remainder of the calzone back in the icebox. Then she went into the bedroom to make sure everything was clean and tidy. Feeling helpless, she pulled the sheets taut, plumped the pillows, folded Beth’s quilt, and put it aside. Every mean thing she had ever said to Beth came back like a chorus. She’d always thought she was the only one under pressure at home because their mother was so critical of her. But poor Beth had to be her mother’s alter ego. It was their mother who had encouraged Beth to go to New York.

Lily wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. At six-thirty, a knock at the door signalled the doctor’s arrival. She wore a white cotton dress and a kerchief tied at the nape of her neck. She had a crisp, cold look that frightened Lily. She stood in the living room, holding a black bag, staring at her. Lily met her stare with a hard look of her own. Then she softened, realizing that in a few moments this woman would have her sister’s life in her hands.

“So, where do you want me to do the job?” the woman asked, looking at the sofa.

“It’s my sister, not me. She’s in the bedroom.” Lily nodded her head in that direction. “Are you a qualified doctor?”

“I have enough medical training to do the procedure I’m about to perform. It’s simple. If you’re pregnant and don’t want to have a baby, there’s no alternative.”

The woman, who had not offered her name, went into the bedroom, where Beth was lying covered by a top sheet. Her face was pale and taut, without an ounce of her old bravado.

“I’ll have to heat this on the stove,” the woman said as she pulled a wire from her bag. “Put an apron on so you can help me. I’ll need some hot water.”

Lily turned on the gas and watched, half paralyzed, as the woman rotated the wire over the flame holding a pair of tongs.

She returned to the bedroom and poured iodine on a sponge. “Roll on your side,” she said and began wiping Beth’s buttocks and thighs.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked.

Lily checked her urge to flee. She gripped Beth’s hand and whispered, “It will soon be over.”

The woman folded a piece of gauze several times, and then soaked it in a clear liquid. The smell of ether nauseated Lily. The woman positioned Beth’s legs wide apart and slipped a towel under her. She put on cotton gloves.

“I’m going to put this cloth over your face. Breathe normally.”

Beth reached for Lily’s hand. She breathed for three breaths and was out.

“Keep her legs apart,” the woman said.

Beth’s breathing was even. The woman took the coat hanger wire and slowly inserted it into Beth’s vagina. She put a few more drops of ether on the cloth over Beth’s mouth and nose and continued the wire on its journey. Lily’s entire body winced when the woman nodded, indicating the wire was doing its job. She moved it around in a circular motion. Blood trickled onto the towel.

“Stop,” Lily said and put her ear next to Beth’s mouth. “My sister’s gagging. She can’t breathe under that cloth.” There was a pinkish spot on the gauze. Lily tore the cloth off Beth’s face. Beth’s mouth was covered in partially digested food. She took a shallow breath and began coughing. Her heart was pounding under her slip.

“She’s aspirating,” the woman said, and she tipped Beth over onto her side. With each raspy attempt to take in air, Beth’s body shook with spasms. The woman, who had pulled out the wire, scrambled up on the bed. She straddled Beth, encircled her chest with her arms, and squeezed hard repeatedly until a bolus of food spewed out on the floor.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” the woman said. “I’ve disturbed things enough that the abortion will occur spontaneously. I told your sister not to eat beforehand.”

“If you had, she would have followed your instructions,” Lily spat.

“I’m sorry, but she’ll have to abort without an anesthetic. She will have a lot of pain.” The woman threw her things into her bag and scurried out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lily screamed after her.

She propped pillows behind Beth’s back so she would remain on her side. She waited until Beth could breathe without going into a spasm, then she raced down the stairs to Signora Bumbacco, who was eating dinner with her husband.

“You like my calzone?” the woman asked, shovelling in a big mouthful.

“Signora, please come. Beth is losing her baby.” Signora Bumbacco made the sign of the cross. “I’ll explain when we get there. We need to hurry.”