Eloquent Silence by Margaret Weise Page B

by what she had wanted to believe, that he was a good man and that the marriage could be made to work if she tried hard enough, despite all signs to the contrary.
    She firmly believed that much of the problem was hers, that she angered him simply by being the way she was, because it was not the way he wanted her to be. She reminded herself that if she did not cause annoyance to him he would not lose his temper and hit out at her. The brutality was mostly her fault as she brought on herself because that was what he told her to believe.
    There were times when her mind was repulsed by his expressions of intimidation but she knew that if she were to continue with the marriage she had to accept his theories for her being as he told her as much as possible. To try to defend herself only caused extra tension and led to even worse outcomes. It was imperative to accept what he said as law and to try, (although so far it had been in vain), to change herself into what he wanted her to be, once she found out for sure what it was.
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    D avid’s illness had taken their country doctor in Belsen by surprise, causing him to give several diagnoses ranging from Rheumatic Fever all the way to Leukemia. Each new diagnosis filled her and Conrad with ever mounting fear.
    Never one to admit to a misdiagnosis, the doctor blustered on attempting to give the impression he knew far more than he obviously did. Annie’s fears dominated every waking moment and some of her sleeping ones as well when she woke in terror for the wellbeing of her son, staring into the dark, silent, pitiless night. It had been a year of sorrow for Annie, who was deathly afraid of losing her ill child.
    Panic-stricken by the mystery of David’s recurring illness, she and her husband, Conrad (Con for short) Himmlar, had taken the very sick child to Dachautown. There they had consulted a specialist who had told them that the boy was suffering severely from Glandular Fever. The doctor said that his attacks of hallucinations that overcame him when the fever raged and were absolutely terrifying to watch, would eventually pass.
    Nothing, he said, but time and rest would cure the illness which continued, even after six long and tense months, to flare up regularly, taking his mother to the brink of Hell.
    David was skin and bone, two huge blue eyes dominating a poor, fleshless little face with skin that was so tight it seemed almost translucent. His thin arms and legs with knobbly joints were like those of a third world child. He had no appetite and it was all Annie could do to get him to eat half a can of strained baby food, or, on a good day, a slice of bread and Vegemite. He seemed to exist on Milo with an occasional addition of tomato soup and Annie was grateful when he took any nourishment at all. Sometimes he merely existed on milk.
    Pasteurized, of course. Annie had been to Hell and back with regards to unpasteurized milk and it would be a long time before the children would have access to the like again.
    There are women who bloom during pregnancy. Their skin glows, their hair shines and they say they have never felt better in their lives. Annie was not one of those. Nausea fluctuated constantly and swept through her body, causing her to pause beside the Simpkins’ back stairs, to lower her head and wait for the rush of giddiness to pass. She stood still then, shoving the long, brown hair back from her face. Sadly, she was watching her boy pedaling his red car home as fast as his little legs could go, his thin face flushed with the pleasure of having played with his friends.
    My God, he looks terrible, she thought. When will he be better? I can’t be pregnant again. It’s not true, can’t be! My sickness is psychological because I’ve been so worried about David. Who feels the worst between David and me is a toss-up.
    Once he’s better and I’m more relaxed my period will come on, surely, she reassured herself in a vague, distracted manner. She was