relatable.
“Yes,” Ruth said. “A two-year-old boy. We left him with my sister.” She leaned into her husband and put her head on his shoulder. “Just you and I tonight, dearest. Just like when we were young and in New Mexico.”
“God-awful desert,” David chimed in, though he pulled Ruth closer and kissed the top of her head.
I was about to ask why they were in New Mexico when I heard Ed’s voice, and it startled me. “There is my Mildred.” He’d snuck up on me. Ed’s words were too loud and slurred. He was already drunk, and the room seemed to get quieter, everyone staring at him now. He grabbed my arm roughly, holding on too tight, the way the vodka made him do sometimes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to yank away and feeling embarrassed that Ruth and David and Mortie were all seeing this after I’d only just met them. But Ed pulled me closer to him, not letting go. I could feel the eyes of the others—all watching me. “I should want to give my wife a kiss,” he said, his breath hot against my neck. “Is that so wrong?” He pulled my face close to his and pressed his lips against mine. He smelled of vodka, kosher wine, and cigar smoke.
“Stop it,” I whispered, trying to pull back but unable to get out of his grip. “Not here.”
“I know what you’ve been doing.” He said the words so quietly that it took a moment for them to register. And then he let go of me so quickly that I stumbled a little, and grabbed on to the edge of the console table to catch my balance.
I looked up and saw Ethel staring at me now, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m going to go downstairs, outside, for a bit,” I said, trying not to cry. “Will you keep an eye on David?”
“Now?” she said. “Millie, it’s late.”
I glanced at Ed, who was already talking to Mortie Sobell as if I weren’t even here, as if he hadn’t just grabbed me.
How could he possibly know?
“I just need some air,” I said.
“But . . .” She hesitated, and I guessed there was more she wanted to say but she stopped herself and then said instead, “Take as long as you need.”
OUT ON THE sidewalk below, the air was much too cold for early September, and I’d not stopped by my apartment for my coat. I shivered, and pulled at the sleeves of my gray dress, but I could not go back inside, up the elevator, to Ethel’s. And Ed.
I had the urge to walk, to go up the street and get on the subway and ride it somewhere. Anywhere. But I didn’t even have my purse with me. And besides, where would I go now at this hour? And even if I should ever want to leave here, I couldn’t go alone. I would never leave David behind.
I could still feel the impression of Ed’s fingertips on my wrist. I looked down and saw slight purple marks. I could also feel his lips against mine and I reached up and touched my mouth as if to brush the memory away.
I know what you’ve been doing,
he’d said. Ishivered again and wondered if it was possible, if he’d finally figured out about the diaphragm.
I hoped he was talking about something else, some imagined ill I’d committed against him. The more time that passed without me finding myself with a child, the more distant and angrier Ed became.
But I knew if he had discovered my secret now, there was not much I could do about it, and it terrified me to think what might become of David should we ever have another, more perfect child. It terrified me to think that maybe Dr. Greenberg was right, that it was me. My fault. And it was bad enough that I was ruining one child.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I flinched. “I didn’t mean to startle you . . . Again . . .” I turned and there was the doctor I’d met upstairs.
“Dr. Gold,” I said.
“Jake,”
he reminded me gently. “I was about to head home and I noticed you standing out here. Is everything all right, Mrs. Stein?”
“Millie,”
I corrected him, too, and he smiled at me. “Yes, of course. Everything is
“Yes,” Ruth said. “A two-year-old boy. We left him with my sister.” She leaned into her husband and put her head on his shoulder. “Just you and I tonight, dearest. Just like when we were young and in New Mexico.”
“God-awful desert,” David chimed in, though he pulled Ruth closer and kissed the top of her head.
I was about to ask why they were in New Mexico when I heard Ed’s voice, and it startled me. “There is my Mildred.” He’d snuck up on me. Ed’s words were too loud and slurred. He was already drunk, and the room seemed to get quieter, everyone staring at him now. He grabbed my arm roughly, holding on too tight, the way the vodka made him do sometimes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to yank away and feeling embarrassed that Ruth and David and Mortie were all seeing this after I’d only just met them. But Ed pulled me closer to him, not letting go. I could feel the eyes of the others—all watching me. “I should want to give my wife a kiss,” he said, his breath hot against my neck. “Is that so wrong?” He pulled my face close to his and pressed his lips against mine. He smelled of vodka, kosher wine, and cigar smoke.
“Stop it,” I whispered, trying to pull back but unable to get out of his grip. “Not here.”
“I know what you’ve been doing.” He said the words so quietly that it took a moment for them to register. And then he let go of me so quickly that I stumbled a little, and grabbed on to the edge of the console table to catch my balance.
I looked up and saw Ethel staring at me now, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m going to go downstairs, outside, for a bit,” I said, trying not to cry. “Will you keep an eye on David?”
“Now?” she said. “Millie, it’s late.”
I glanced at Ed, who was already talking to Mortie Sobell as if I weren’t even here, as if he hadn’t just grabbed me.
How could he possibly know?
“I just need some air,” I said.
“But . . .” She hesitated, and I guessed there was more she wanted to say but she stopped herself and then said instead, “Take as long as you need.”
OUT ON THE sidewalk below, the air was much too cold for early September, and I’d not stopped by my apartment for my coat. I shivered, and pulled at the sleeves of my gray dress, but I could not go back inside, up the elevator, to Ethel’s. And Ed.
I had the urge to walk, to go up the street and get on the subway and ride it somewhere. Anywhere. But I didn’t even have my purse with me. And besides, where would I go now at this hour? And even if I should ever want to leave here, I couldn’t go alone. I would never leave David behind.
I could still feel the impression of Ed’s fingertips on my wrist. I looked down and saw slight purple marks. I could also feel his lips against mine and I reached up and touched my mouth as if to brush the memory away.
I know what you’ve been doing,
he’d said. Ishivered again and wondered if it was possible, if he’d finally figured out about the diaphragm.
I hoped he was talking about something else, some imagined ill I’d committed against him. The more time that passed without me finding myself with a child, the more distant and angrier Ed became.
But I knew if he had discovered my secret now, there was not much I could do about it, and it terrified me to think what might become of David should we ever have another, more perfect child. It terrified me to think that maybe Dr. Greenberg was right, that it was me. My fault. And it was bad enough that I was ruining one child.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I flinched. “I didn’t mean to startle you . . . Again . . .” I turned and there was the doctor I’d met upstairs.
“Dr. Gold,” I said.
“Jake,”
he reminded me gently. “I was about to head home and I noticed you standing out here. Is everything all right, Mrs. Stein?”
“Millie,”
I corrected him, too, and he smiled at me. “Yes, of course. Everything is
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