Hilda and Pearl (26 page)

The doorbell rang as they were having coffee, and Mike went to answer it. He came back leading Ruby and Billy, whom he had never met. “Friends of yours,” he said to Pearl, and the old suspicion, never far away, was back in place—friends who had perhaps helped her connive with his brother, friends who knew. Pearl wanted to reassure him, but she couldn't, and she
had
told Ruby she was in love with Nathan—only that, but still, too much. Now, as she introduced everyone, she was sure Ruby remembered that conversation. And Nathan would guess, and would hate her for yet another reason.

“I hope you don't mind,” Ruby was saying. “You mentioned we could drop by.”

“It's fine,” said Pearl.

“This is Rachel,” said Hilda, who was holding the baby now.

“She's cute,” said Ruby.

“I didn't know there was a baby,” Billy said, and he sank to his knees to be on Racket's level, waving his long fingers to get her attention. His eyes seemed even bigger and lighter than when he stopped at the office to call for Ruby and stood there looking as if he'd come in on a shaft of sunlight. Now his eyes seemed lit almost as if to give the baby something to stare at.

“Billy likes babies,” said Ruby.

The kitchen was crowded. They barely had room for Nathan and Hilda and Mrs. Levenson, not to mention the baby, and now there were two more people. Billy remained standing after he stopped playing with Racket, and Mike brought in their only other straight chair for Ruby to sit on. Pearl had to wash her own coffee cup to serve them. She owned six cups and saucers and had never contemplated having so much company at once. Luckily there was enough cake. The kitchen was hot—the heat was bubbling up—and the window was steamy. Billy was wearing a sweater and he took it off. Pearl's chair was empty, but she'd have to dislodge several people to get to it, so she leaned back against the sink.

“We've been arguing about Spain,” Ruby said, looking at Mike. “I brought Billy over because I thought maybe you'd talk to him.”

“Spain,” said Nathan, and he put down his coffee cup and looked steadily at Billy. “You're interested in Spain?”

“I'm very interested in Spain,” he said. “I'm a student at City College, but I've been doing some organizing—rent strikes and that sort of thing. You have time to think when you're getting locked up every few weeks.”

“I'm sure you do,” said Nathan respectfully.

“I've been talking to some people about volunteering. The Abraham Lincoln Battalion—you know about that?”

“I know about that,” said Nathan, with sad kindness. “I've been reading about the fighting at Jarama. A terrible thing.”

“I think the Loyalists can win,” Billy said. “It's an amazing chance—this is a true democracy that the military is trying to stamp out. The people of Spain—”

“Oh, what does a kid like you know about the people of Spain?” said Mike suddenly, and he sounded angry, with all the anger of the last months, the anger against Pearl and Nathan, in his voice.

“What do I know?” said Billy quietly. “Well, I don't know much.” He sounded good-natured. “Do you know a lot about Spain? I've been reading....”

“Me?” Mike was disarmed, but still angry. “No, I don't know much about Spain. But I also don't know why a man would want to go fight in Europe if he didn't have to. I don't understand this Abraham Lincoln Battalion—I think they're a lot of crazy idealists.”

“Hold it, Mike—not so crazy,” said Nathan, and it was the first time Pearl had heard the old tone between them.

“How do you stop fascists by dying?” asked Mike, standing, his jaw tight and the muscles standing out. “Hitler's going to be impressed by the death count? And more impressed if the death count is a bunch of American kids?”

“Hitler?” said Mrs. Levenson. “War with Hitler?”

“They're talking about Spain,” said Hilda.

“There are Jews in Spain, too,” said Mrs. Levenson. “There are Jews everywhere. Everywhere Hitler will find them.” She seized the baby and held her so tightly that Racket cried. “What a world we make for babies!”

Pearl had read about the dreadful fighting at Jarama. She had not known that Americans were already fighting in Spain until Ruby had told her. She hadn't known that the group of Americans was called the Abraham Lincoln Battalion. Ruby and Billy knew others who had gone—men who didn't know anything about being soldiers. Nathan had wished he could go, and Pearl realized that many of those going were men just like Nathan, like Nathan if Racket hadn't come along. Some of them probably
had
babies. If it hadn't been for Spain and for the rally, she wondered what might have happened—or not happened—between Nathan and her. It was strange to think that Hitler had caused all this pain she'd been through—and the pleasure, too: the pleasure, even now, of loving Nathan.

Mrs. Levenson took her napkin and mopped her forehead. “It's hot,” she said. Then she turned to Billy. “Tell me, young man,” she said, “you have a mama? You have a papa?”

“Yes. In the Bronx,” said Billy.

“And what do they think, in the Bronx, that you should go to Spain, maybe get killed—how does your mama like that?”

“I'm afraid she doesn't like it,” he said. “I tell her, if I go, and the Loyalists win, maybe Hitler and Mussolini will stop trying to take over the world, maybe a bigger war won't have to happen. I have a little brother—maybe if I fight, he won't have to.”

“This makes your mama change her mind?” said Mrs. Levenson. “Excuse me I should mind your business for you.”

Billy blushed and looked at his shoes. “No, I'm afraid it doesn't make her change her mind,” he said.

“And I can't do anything with him, either, Mrs. Levenson,” Ruby said. She was sitting next to the old lady, her cake still on its plate on her lap, her fork in her hand. “I can't talk him out of it.”

“You married?” said Mrs. Levenson.

“No, not married, but we'd like to get married. I'd like to have a baby,” said Ruby.

“I wish you luck,” said the old lady formally. “I wish you should have what you want.” She sat back, fanning herself with her napkin, rocking sideways a little bit. Then she began to sing quietly in Yiddish.

“I've been working with a group that's raising money for Spain,” Nathan was saying to Billy in a soft voice. “But that's all I can do. I'm a coward. I can't go over there and fight.”

“You have a daughter.”

“I don't know if I'd have the courage, even if I didn't have a daughter,” Nathan said. “I do not find myself to be a particularly courageous person.”

Pearl saw Billy staring at him and she knew Billy was falling for Nathan, too. Billy didn't believe Nathan wasn't courageous. “To tell the truth, he isn't,” she said inwardly, thought it in words as if she were speaking to Billy. Nathan hadn't even had the courage to talk to her about whether or not it was his child she was carrying—yet she too couldn't help but forgive him. Even now, she liked handling plates and spoons he had touched.

Ruby and Billy apologized for breaking in on a family party, but Pearl was glad they'd come. The dinner had been going well, but if Ruby and Billy hadn't arrived just as the food was gone and the kitchen was getting hot, something bad might have happened. Mike might have turned on Nathan—though she couldn't quite imagine that. Mike was angry all the time but he didn't talk about Nathan or what had happened, as if he had lost the memory but kept the anger.

Or maybe Mrs. Levenson would have been difficult. Pearl assured Ruby, when they talked about it in the office on Monday, that her arrival had been welcome. But Ruby shook her head. Billy hadn't paid much attention to Mike, but he'd admired Nathan and said Nathan understood him. “It isn't your brother-in-law's fault,” Ruby said quickly. “Billy would find a talking dog who'd agree with him, if nobody else came along.”

Ruby was troubled, and a few weeks later she told Pearl that Billy really was going to Spain. He was out buying boots and a canteen at an Army and Navy store. And Pearl was about to stop working; she was too big now to hide her pregnancy. “I'm going to feel so bad,” Ruby said. “May I come to your house sometimes? Just to talk? Will you be with me when he leaves?”

“Sure,” said Pearl.

A few weeks later Billy did leave, on a passenger liner with a group of other volunteers. He'd explained to Ruby—and Ruby explained to Pearl—that it was all secret. The government had outlawed what he was doing, and his passport was stamped “Not Valid in Spain.” The volunteers had to go to France, pretending to be tourists or students, and sneak across the border through the mountains. Ruby mustn't come down to the ship and wave.

She'd pointed out that if he were going to France to study, she'd go down and wave. “He said I wouldn't look so miserable then,” she told Pearl, “but I'd look miserable, even then.”

Billy insisted, but when he finally left, on a sunny spring day, Pearl and Ruby went to see the ship depart anyway. “We don't have to stand on the dock and look conspicuous,” Ruby said. “We could just be passing by.”

They had to walk many blocks from the subway station to the pier on the Hudson. They were shocked at the size of the liner. They could hardly see the passengers, far away, scurrying on the deck. They held back, the wind blowing their hair and blowing cinders into their eyes until Pearl didn't know whether Ruby was crying or whether she just had something in her eye. It was hard to understand that Billy was on the big ship. At last its horn sounded, and after a while they realized it was moving. It slid away from the dock, and water appeared. At the last minute another woman, who had been standing behind a pillar where they hadn't noticed her, rushed forward. “Leo!” she shouted. “Leo! Leo! Be careful!” Pearl and Ruby stepped forward, but they didn't rush toward the ship like the woman. They stood and waved, and Pearl was sure no one could have told them from friends of a departing tourist. The woman who'd called to Leo stumbled as she left the dock. She was older than she had seemed at first, and Pearl wondered whether the woman was Leo's mother.

Spring was easier for Pearl. She didn't have to go to the office anymore. They had less money, but she was careful. She didn't mind being pregnant—she thought she looked fine. She liked wearing maternity clothes. She was still unhappy about Nathan, but away from the office, and with Mike out of the house working, she was free to think about him. She avoided her mother, who wanted to come and visit often. Alone, Pearl could turn her mind into a little shrine to her brief happiness. She encouraged herself to do this because it was better for the baby. It couldn't be good for a baby if its mother was unhappy all the time. Pearl took herself for walks in the park and neglected the house and the cooking. At last she realized the time was close and she began to get ready. She cleaned the apartment and bought a crib and a layette.

Pearl had her baby on June seventh. Her labor was not too bad and the nurses joked with her, but Pearl was frightened. The baby would be born looking just like Nathan, or something would be wrong with the baby, a punishment for loving Nathan.

Mike was sent to the waiting room. Pearl lay alone, covered with sweat. She thought of Ruby's Billy fighting in Spain, and it was as if she were fighting in a war as well. Ruby had received a short letter from Billy. He had already made friends, and lost a friend who had died in battle. If Pearl and Nathan could have gone to Spain and given their lives for the Loyalists—perhaps she could have been a nurse—it would no longer be wicked that they had gone to bed together. The greater goodness would wipe out the lesser badness, at least if they died. She thought that maybe the same thing was true about having a baby. If she could bear the pain without complaining, she would be a good person who could be somebody's mother.

The doctor had told Pearl that when it was time for the baby to be born, he would anesthetize her, but when it happened, late at night, he wasn't there, and by the time he arrived the baby was coming. Pearl grinned at the doctor when he came into the delivery room. “I'm having a baby!” she said madly.

“Well, that was the idea, wasn't it?” he said.

One of the nurses laughed and the doctor frowned at her, as if only he and Pearl were allowed to laugh. Pearl didn't mind being naked below the waist, didn't mind that nurses were wiping blood and feces from her body. She wanted to send a message to Mike, but all she could think of to say was, It isn't what I thought it would be like. Of course, the nurses were too busy to carry messages. In another moment there was a great rip of pain—for a second Pearl thought that a stray bullet, somehow careening over from Spain, had hit her—and then came cries, a child's cry and the nurse's cry. “A boy, Mrs. Lewis, you got a boy!”

Pearl lay back exhausted. “Let me see him,” she said, but her boy, Simon, was carried off. By the time they brought him back she was asleep, but she roused herself. “Doctor says you want to try breastfeeding,” the nurse was saying to her. Pearl remembered now. She had said that—insisted. She reached for her son. His head was smaller than her breast, or not much bigger. She didn't know what to do. “Not many of the moms try,” the nurse was saying. “Of course, I was breastfed. My mother can't believe women don't do it anymore. But she says it's bad for your figure.”