Neither Joe’s voice nor his forehead indicated how he felt about this possibility. I wasn’t terribly anxious to find out.
“How sure are you that you’re pregnant?” I asked Rennie. To my chagrin my voice was unsteady.
“I’m—I’m pretty late,” Rennie said, clearing her throat two or three times. “And I’ve been vomiting a lot for the last two days.”
“Well, you know, you thought you were pregnant once before.”
She shook her head. “That was wishful thinking.”
She had to wait a second before she said anything else. “I wanted to be pregnant that time.”
“There’s not much doubt,” Joe said. “No use to hope along those lines. The obstetricians never commit themselves for a month or so, just to be safe, but Rennie knows her symptoms.”
I sighed uncertainly; Joe still gave no hint of his feelings. “Boy, that complicates things, doesn’t it?”
“Well, does it or not? How would you say it complicates things?”
“I guess that depends on how you all feel.”
“Why is that? Look, Horner, you ought to decide what your point of view is going to be. Rennie’s the same distance from me as she is from you, and we’re all the same distance from the Colt.”
“We should have allowed for the possibility, I guess,” I suggested carefully.
“Aren’t you actually saying that I should have allowed for the possibility when I sent Rennie up here? I allowed for all possibilities. That doesn’t necessarily mean I like the idea of her being pregnant with your kid. I don’t like that possibility a single God-damned bit, if you want to know, and I didn’t really look for it to happen. But I did allow for the possibility right from the time I first heard you’d laid her. If you all didn’t, you’re stupid.”
“It’s a possibility I’d never allow for at the time,” I smiled ruefully. “A bachelor would lead a lonely life if he did.”
“Which heaven forbid,” Joe added dryly.
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure to what extent I was justified in being annoyed by his manner: the thing was too complicated. There was silence for a while. Joe chewed his thumbnail idly, Rennie still stared at the rug, and I tried with unimpressive success to keep the gun out of my eyes and thoughts.
“What do you suggest, Joe?”
“Don’t say that, now,” he protested. “It’s not all my baby. What do you suggest?”
“Well, I can’t say anything until I know whether you want to keep the kid or put it up for adoption or what. You know damned well I’d pay for the obstetrician and the hospital and all, and the kid’s support, if you decide to keep it, or help all I can with an adoption. If I could raise the kid myself I’d do it.”
“But you can’t vomit for Rennie or split up the labor pains with her.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“You’re oversimplifying even when you say If I decide to keep the kid. That makes it my responsibility. You say you’re willing to take on the expense, but that doesn’t mean a damned thing and you know it. Making it a practical problem, like a money problem, is too easy. I’d be a lot happier if you’d take on your share of responsibility. You don’t have to take any shit off of me. That’s too easy too.”
“How do I go about taking on responsibility?” I asked. “I’m willing.”
“Then for Christ’s sake take a position and stick to it so we’ll know who the hell we’re dealing with! Don’t throw everything in my lap. What the hell do you think I should do? Tell Rennie what you want her to do and what you want me to do, and we’ll tell you the same thing. Then we can work on the problem, for God’s sake! Don’t be so damned wishy-washy!”
“I don’t have opinions, Joe,” I said flatly. Of course the trouble was that I had, as usual, too many opinions. I was on everybody’s side.
Joe jumped off the bed, snatched up the pistol, and aimed it right at my face.
“If I told you I was going to pull this God-damned trigger, would you have any opinions about that?”
I was sick.
“Go ahead and pull it, you son of a bitch,” I said weakly.
“Horseshit: you’d never have to face up to anything then,” he said coldly, and put the pistol back on the smoking stand. Rennie had watched the scene with tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t weeping for either of us.
“What do you want to do?” Joe said roughly to her, and when she whipped her head I saw his eyes water also, although his expression didn’t change. There was no alliance against me: we were indeed every man for himself, and any who wept, wept for his own sorrows.
“I don’t care about anything,” Rennie said. “Do whatever you want to.”
“I’ll be damned!” Joe shouted, with tears on his cheeks. “I’m not going to do your thinking or his either. Think for yourself, or I don’t want anything to do with you! I mean it!”
“I don’t want the baby,” Rennie said to him.
“You want to put it up for adoption?”
She shook her head. “That wouldn’t work. Once you’ve carried them and all you can’t let go of them. If I carried it for nine months I’d love it, and I don’t want to love it. I don’t want to carry it for nine months.”
“All right, then; there’s the pistol. Shoot yourself.”
Rennie looked at him sadly. “I will if you want me to, Joe.”
“God damn what I want!” Joe exploded.
“Did you mean you want an abortion, Rennie?” I asked.
“I want to get rid of this baby,” Rennie nodded. “I don’t want to carry this baby.”
“Where in the hell are you going to find an abortionist around here?” Joe asked disgustedly. “This isn’t New York.”
“I don’t know,” Rennie said. “But I’m not going to carry this baby. I don’t want it.”
“Are you going to go to Dr. Walsh again like last time and let him insult you?” Joe demanded. “He’d throw you out! I don’t believe there’s an abortionist in this county.”
“I don’t know,” Rennie said. “I’m either going to get an abortion or shoot myself, Joe. I’ve decided.”
“Well, that sounds brave, Rennie, but think clearly about it: you don’t know any abortionists around here, do you?”
“No.”
“And you don’t know any in Baltimore or Washington or anywhere else. And you don’t know anybody who’s ever had an abortion, do you?”
“No.”
“Well, you say you’re going to get an abortion or shoot yourself. Suppose you started tomorrow: what are you going to do to find an abortionist?”
“I don’t know!” Rennie cried.
“Damn it, if there was ever a time when we’ve got to think straight, this is it, but you’re not thinking straight. You’re setting up hypothetical alternatives that aren’t actually open to you.”
Rennie gave a little cry and rushed to the smoking stand, but because I had seen as clearly as Joe that that was what she was being driven to I was ready when she made her move. I dived headlong from my rocker for the gun. I fell short (physical co-ordination was not my forte), but my fingers closed on the edge of the stand and I pulled stand, gun, and all down on top of me. Rennie, in her rush, struck my head with her shoe, a stunning blow, and fell to her knees. She scrabbled wildly for the pistol, which had landed on my left shoulder blade and slid down beside my armpit. By rolling over on it I kept it from her long enough for me to get my own hands on it, and then fended her off until I was able to get to my feet again. She made no attempt to take it from me, but went back to her chair and buried her face in her hands. Very much shaken and nervous, I left the smoking stand where it lay and kept the gun.
“You people are insane!” I said.
Joe hadn’t moved, although he too was obviously shaken.
“Explain why, Horner,” he demanded, with considerable emotion.
“The hell I will,” I said. “Do you want her to blow her damned head off?”
“I want her to think for h
erself,” Joe said. “Since you stopped her, you must have some other opinion. Or is it that you just don’t want your room messed up? Would you rather we go home and do our shooting?”
“For Christ’s sake, Joe, do you love your wife or not?”
“You’re begging the question. Do you love her? Is that why you stopped her?”
“I don’t love anybody right now. I think you’re both insane.”
“Stop saying things you can’t explain. Would you rather force her to have a baby she doesn’t want?”
“I don’t give a damn what you all do, but I’m going to hold on to this pistol.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” Joe said angrily. “You refuse to think. You’re still talking about us all, and you know that’s a distortion. You say you don’t give a damn what Rennie does, but you take away her ability to choose. You’re acting like a damn Hollywood movie, doing all you can to confuse everything.”
“What the hell do you want?” I hollered.
“I want you to forget about everything except what’s to the point and what’s beside the point!” Joe said fiercely. “People act when they’re ready whether they’ve thought clearly or not, and if there’s one thing I’d kill you for, Horner, it’s for screwing up the issues so that we have to act before we’ve thought, or taking something as important as this out of the realm of choice. Don’t think I’m just talking, buddy: I’d kill you for it.”
“What’s beside the point, then?”
“Your oversimplifying is beside the point, for one thing: asking me as the husband what my position is; referring to Rennie and me together as if this were a conspiracy against you; blocking her actions; talking about perversity and insanity.”
“Damn it, Joe, if I hadn’t jumped she’d be dead right now! Do you realize that? Would you be satisfied with that?”
“We’re not playing games, Jake! Forget all the movies you ever saw and all the novels you ever read. Forget everything except this problem. Everything else obscures and confuses it. Stop looking at me like I’m a monster!” he shouted, losing his temper. “If you ever knew a guy who’s thought straight about these things it’s me, God damn it! If you’re interested, I’ll tell you that you and I would probably be dead by this time too, if Rennie had shot herself; but I wouldn’t have stopped her. Nobody else you ever met ever loved a female human being, Horner: they just love pictures in their heads. If I didn’t love Rennie do you think I could have sat here when she went for the gun? In the name of Christ, Horner, open your God-damned eyes! Just this one time open your God-damned eyes and try to understand somebody!”
“Do you want me to put this pistol back on the table?”
“Stop asking me what I want!”
I was hopelessly lost.
“Here,” I said, handing Joe the Colt. “If you’re so set on acting by your ideas, you put it back.”
Joe took the gun and unhesitatingly offered it to Rennie.
“Here you are, Rennie,” he said gently, gripping the back of her chair for support. “Do you want it?”
Rennie shook her head without looking at him.
“Maybe she’d like to have you do it for her,” I said, as acidly as possible, but I was so moved I was dizzy.
Joe glanced at me icily. “Do you want me to shoot you, Rennie?” he asked sarcastically. She shook her head again. Joe picked up the smoking stand, replaced the pistol on it, and went to his seat on the bed.
“So, Jake, you’ve decided we’ll have the baby. Do you have any more opinions?”
I couldn’t speak. Like Rennie, I shook my head. It is a demoralizing thing to deal with a man who will see, face up to, and unhesitatingly act upon the extremest limits of his ideas.
“Apparently you don’t,” Joe said contemptuously. He rose and began putting on his topcoat. “Do you want to come home now?” he asked Rennie.
Rennie rose and put on her coat. At the last minute Joe slipped the Colt into his overcoat pocket. He was extremely upset. They headed for the door, evidently not intending to say good night.
“Look, Joe,” I called out just before they left. “If Rennie could find an abortionist, what would you say?”
“What do you mean-what would I say? What difference would it make what I said?”
“I mean how would you feel about the idea of her going through with an abortion?”
“I don’t like it,” Joe said flatly. “If it was a really competent abortion done in a good hospital by a good obstetrician it wouldn’t matter, but it couldn’t possibly be that. Rennie’s in perfect health, and the only abortion she could get even in the city would be a half-ass job by some half-ass doctor who could mess her up for the rest of her life.” He turned to go.
“I’ll see if I can find somebody to do it,” I said, “and if I can find somebody decent I’ll pay for it.”
“Horseshit,” Joe said, and they left.
11
The Next Morning, Early, My Eyes Opened Suddenly
THE NEXT MORNING, EARLY, MY EYES OPENED SUDDENLY, and I leaped in a sweat from my bed with a terrible feeling that Rennie was dead. I called the Morgans at once, and could scarcely believe it when Rennie herself answered the telephone.
“I’m sorry I woke you up, Rennie. God, I was afraid you’d shot yourself or something already.”
“No,” she said.
“Listen,” I begged. “Promise me you’ll wait awhile, will you?”
“I can’t promise anything, Jake.”
“You’ve got to, damn it!”
“Why?”
“Well, if for no other reason, because I love you.” This, I fear, was not true, at least in the sense that any meaningless proposition is not true, if not false either. I’m not sure whether I knew what I was saying when I told Joe I loved Rennie, but at any rate I couldn’t see any meaning in the statement now.
“So does Joe,” Rennie said pointedly.
“Yes, all right, let’s say he loves you more than I could ever love anybody. He loves you so much he’s willing to let you shoot yourself, and I love you so little that I’m not.”
To my surprise Rennie hung up. I immediately dialed her number again. This time Joe answered.
“Rennie doesn’t want to talk to you,” he said. “That was a stupid thing you said a minute ago—stupid or malicious.”
“I’m sorry. Listen, Joe, do you think she’ll commit suicide?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“Will you stay home with her today and see that she doesn’t? Just today?”
“Of course not. For one thing, I can’t think of anything more likely to make her do it tomorrow.”
“Then you don’t want her to, do you?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“Just today, Joe! Look, I might be able to get hold of somebody for her if you won’t let her do anything today.”
“Do you know an abortionist? Why didn’t you say so last night?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know any myself, but I know several guys in Baltimore who might know of one. I’m going to call them now. For Christ’s sake make her promise to sit still till I see.”
“Rennie doesn’t take orders from me.”
“She will, and you know it. Tell her I know a doctor but I’ve got to call him to make arrangements.”
“We don’t operate that way.”
“Just today, Joe!”
“Hold on,” he said. “Rennie?” I heard him call to her. “Did you intend to kill yourself today?”
I heard Rennie ask why I wanted to know.
“Horner says some of his Baltimore friends might know of an abortionist,” Joe said. I was furious that he told her the truth. “He’s going to call them and see.”
Rennie said something that I couldn’t make out.
“She says she doesn’t want to talk about anything,” Joe said.
“Look, Joe, I’ll call around. Maybe it won’t even be necessary to have an abortion. I’ll try to get hold of some Ergotrate. Th
at ought to do it. Tell Rennie I’ll stop out there today or tonight and either bring the Ergotrate with me or else have something definite arranged.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her,” Joe said, and hung up.
Now it wasn’t quite true—in fact it wasn’t at all true—that I had friends in Baltimore who might know abortionists, for I had no friends in Baltimore or anywhere else. What I did next was telephone every doctor in Wicomico, in alphabetical order. To the first one I said, “Hello. My name is Henry Dempsey. We’re new in town and we don’t have any regular doctor. Say, listen, my wife’s in a terrible predicament: we have two kids already, and she thinks she’s pregnant again. She’s not a healthy girl—physically okay, you know, but not psychologically healthy. In fact she’s under psychiatric care right now. I frankly don’t think she could stand the strain of another pregnancy.”
“Really?” said the doctor, not terribly impressed. “Who’s her psychiatrist?”
“You might not know him,” I said. “He’s in White Plains, New York, where we used to live. His name’s Banks—Dr. Joseph Banks.”
“Does your wife commute to White Plains for treatment?” the doctor asked innocently.
“We just moved, sir, as I said, and we haven’t been able to find another psychiatrist yet.”
“Well, I’m sorry; that’s out of my line.”
“I know, sir; I didn’t mean that. I’m afraid my wife might commit suicide or something any time over this pregnancy, before I can get her to another psychiatrist. She’s in a terrible state. Frankly, I was wondering if you wouldn’t prescribe Ergotrate or something for her. I know it’s out of line, but this is a desperate case. In a year, two years, she could very well be well adjusted enough to have all the kids we want—we don’t want a large family, but we’d like to have three or four. A pregnancy now will ruin all the progress she’s made so far. It’ll mess her up completely.”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Dempsey,” the doctor said coldly. “I can’t do that.”
“Please, Doctor! This is desperate! I’m not asking you to go outside the law. I’ll get a sworn affidavit from Dr. Banks in White Plains. Will that be okay? He’ll take all the responsibility.”