Loving (16 page)

So they tucked themselves into his apartment, read plays, cooked spaghetti, went for long walks, and made love. They laughed and talked and chuckled into the morning hours ... when Anthony was at home. There were many evenings when he went to see other actors perform, and afterward he and his friends talked far into the night. Alone in the loft, she understood how Ivo must have felt when she left him to work at the theater.

In fact she thought about Ivo a lot. She wondered what he was doing, if he was still so tired, if he was all right. She found herself wanting to turn to him, to hear his gentleness, his encouragement, and his praise. And what she found instead was Anthony's nonchalance and his humor, his warmth, and his passion, which spent itself so readily in her arms.

"What are you looking so glum about, love?" He had been watching her for a while, gnawing at a pencil as she poised over some notes for her play. She looked up in surprise as she heard him. He had been out for hours and she hadn't heard him come in.

"Nothing. How was your evening?"

"Very pleasant. Yours?" he asked her casually as he unwound a long cashmere scarf from around his neck. Bettina had bought it for him at the first sign of winter. After he insisted that she sell her mink coat. They had been living on the proceeds for two months.

"It was okay." But she was looking gloomy, and she hadn't been feeling well all day.

He smiled as he looked at her and came to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Now, come on, lover. Tell me. Something's wrong."

At first she only shook her head, and then she laughed softly and took his face in her hands. "No. I was just thinking about Christmas. And I wanted to give you something wonderful. But I don't see how I can." She looked at him regretfully and he pulled her into his arms.

"That doesn't matter, silly. We have each other. That's all I want." And then he grinned mischievously. "That and a Porsche."

"Very funny." But it was odd to remember that Ivo had given her a diamond bracelet the Christmas before. And she had given him a new cashmere coat, a four-hundred-dollar briefcase, and a gold lighter. But those days were gone forever now. All she had left was the jewelry, and that was carefully stowed in the vault. She hadn't even told Anthony. She had simply told him that she'd returned it all to Ivo when she left. As a matter of fact she had offered to return to him all the pieces that he'd given her, but he had insisted that she keep them, on the condition that she told no one where they were. He wanted her to keep them, like a nest egg, and she had followed his advice. Now, for a moment, she contemplated selling something, just for Christmas. But she knew that to do so would arouse Anthony's suspicions that she was hiding something more. And she was. Now she sighed as she looked at him. "Do you realize that we can't afford to give each other anything?" She looked like a child who had just lost her most cherished toy.

But Anthony was undaunted. "Sure we can. We can give each other a turkey and a Christmas dinner. We can write each other poems. We can go for a long walk in the park." And he made it sound so lovely that she smiled and brushed away her tears.

"I wanted to give you much more than that."

And then, reaching out for her gently, he whispered. "You already have."

But in the week that followed, her thoughts of Christmas were all but obscured. She became violently ill with some kind of flu that had her retching and gagging most of the day on the bathroom floor. By evening she would feel a little better. But it all started with fresh anguish in the morning. And by the end of the week she looked ghastly and wan.

"You'd better see a doctor, Bett." Anthony looked at her one afternoon as she staggered out of the bathroom.

But she was hesitant about going to Ivo's doctor. She didn't want to have to explain to him, didn't want him to report to Ivo, or to pry. So she got the name of a doctor from a friend of Anthony's, some girl they had worked with on their last show. The waiting room was tiny and crowded, the magazines dog-eared, the furniture old, and the people all downcast and poor. By the time she got in to see the doctor, she was feeling not only nauseated but faint, and it was only a few moments later that she was retching violently into a bowl. But as she looked up at him his eyes were gentle, and with kind hands he helped her smooth back her hair.

"That bad, huh?" She nodded, trying to catch her breath. "Has it been like this for long?" His eyes looked her over carefully, but they were nice eyes, and Bettina felt less frightened as she lay down on the table with a soft sigh.

"It's been almost two weeks."

"Any worse? Any better? Or has it been like this the whole time?" He pulled up a stool on casters and sat down next to her with a small smile.

"It's been pretty much like this the whole time. Sometimes it's better in the evening, but not much." He nodded slowly then and made a note on her chart.

"Has this ever happened before?"

She shook her head quickly. "Never."

And then he looked at her very gently and searched her eyes. "Have you ever been pregnant before?"

But she only shook her head as she watched him. And then it dawned on her, and she sat up quickly. "Am I pregnant now?"

"You might be." And then, "Would that be very bad?"

She shrugged pensively, and then a small smile dawned in her eyes. "I don't know."

"Is your husband an actor?" Most of his patients were. It was a world in which everything spread like wildfire, recommendations, referrals, gossip, diseases. And along with the rest, his name had been passed along. She nodded. "Is he working right now?" He knew how that was also. Sometimes he had to wait to get paid for five or six months, if at all.

"No, he's not. But I'm sure he will be shortly."

"What about you? An actress?"

She shook her head, smiling slowly. What was she? An assistant director? A budding playwright? A gopher? She was nothing now. She could no longer just say, "I'm Justin Daniels's daughter" or "I'm Ivo Stewart's wife." "I'm just Anthony Pearce's wife." She said it as though by reflex as the doctor watched her, sensing that there was a lot more to her story than that. The sweater she was wearing was expensive, as was the tweed skirt. The loafers were Gucci, and although the coat she had been wearing had been oddly cheap in contrast, he saw that she was wearing a very fancy gold watch.

"Well, let's take a look at you." And he did and he made an accurate guess. To confirm it they did a pregnancy test in his office, which showed that he had been right. "I'd say you're about two months pregnant, Bettina." He watched for her reaction and was touched by the broad smile. "You don't look too unhappy."

"I'm not." She thanked him and made another appointment, although after that he said he'd have to refer her to someone else. He couldn't give her anything for the vomiting and nausea, but suddenly they didn't seem so bad, and he assured her that in another month it would probably disappear, or at least subside. She didn't even care now. It was worth it. She was going to have a baby! She was going to have Anthony's child! Suddenly even betraying Ivo didn't seem so terrible. It was worth it now. She was going to have a baby! She floated all the way home and almost raced up to the loft, and then suddenly she felt stricken. Maybe she shouldn't have run ... maybe it was bad for the baby. She came roaring into the living room like a tornado, brimming with her news, but Anthony wasn't there.

She drank bouillon, ate some crackers, got sick again, and tried to eat again. The doctor had told her that she should try it. And she had promised that she would. For the baby. And then suddenly, as she sat there, she had an idea. She wouldn't tell Anthony. Not yet. She'd wait till Christmas. That would be her gift to him. It was only another five days away. And she giggled to herself as she thought of her secret ... she clapped her hands like a child as she thought of it ... they were going to have a baby! She could hardly wait to hear what he'd say.

On Christmas Eve Anthony surprised her and came home with a tiny little tree. They set it on a table, and she tied it with ribbons. They made popcorn, which she didn't eat, and they each put one tiny package under the tree. It reminded them both of an old movie, and they laughed as they kissed. She opened hers first. It was an old-fashioned fountain pen, a lovely one, and he smiled at her pleasure. "To write your first play!" She hugged him and thanked him and he kissed her long and hard.

"Now yours." She had given him a pair of silver cuff links that he had been drooling over for weeks in a nearby antique shop.

"Bettina, you're crazy!" He was delighted and ran to change shirts so he could put them on. And with a small smile she followed him and sat down quietly on the bed.

"Anthony?" Her voice was strangely soft as she spoke to him, and not knowing why, he turned around.

"Yes, lover?" His eyes met hers.

"I have another present for you."

"Do you?" He tilted his head to one side, but neither of them moved.

She nodded. "Yes. A very special one." And then she held out her arms to him. "Come here and sit down."

Something very odd crawled up his spine. He came to her hesitating, with a look of anxiety in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" But she shook her head quickly and smiled.

"No." She kissed him then, tenderly, softly, and afterward ran her fingertips across his mouth. In a whisper that only he could have heard, "We're going to have a baby, darling." And then she waited. But what she wanted never came. Instead he looked at her, frozen. It was as bad as he had thought. The possibility had crossed his mind with all her vomiting, but he had forced it out of his head. It was more than he could cope with, and it would spoil all his plans.

"Are you kidding?" He stood up next to her and then looked down again. "No, I guess you're not." He threw the cuff links on the table and walked out of the room, and Bettina tried to fight an urge to cry and get sick all at the same time. Slowly she followed him out to the living room and watched him as he stood at the window, his back to her, and running a distracted hand through his hair.

"Anthony?" She looked at him hesitantly, and slowly he turned around.

"Yeah." He stared at her angrily, saying nothing for a time, and then the look of accusation came clear in his eyes. "Did you do that on purpose, Bettina?" With tears in her eyes she shook her head. She had wanted him to be so happy. She wanted it to mean something to him too. And then, never taking his eyes from hers, "Would you consider an abortion?" But this time she couldn't hold back the tears, and shaking her head, she fled the room. And when she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, he was gone.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered to herself softly with one hand resting gently on her still flat stomach and the other wiping her ceaselessly crying eyes. She fell asleep at last at four in the morning. But Anthony never came home that night.

He didn't return until five o'clock the next afternoon. Christmas was almost over, and for Bettina it had been ruined. She didn't ask him where he'd been. She didn't say anything. She was packing her bags. But that had been what he had feared. And it was what had brought him home. Three months into the marriage he couldn't afford to lose her. Not yet.

"I'm sorry." He looked at her bleakly from the bedroom doorway. "You just took me by surprise."

"So I gathered." She turned her back to him and continued to pack her bags.

"Look, Bettina ... baby, I'm sorry." He went to her and tried to hold her but she shook him off.

"Don't do that."

"Look, dammit, I love you!" He turned her around to face him, and once again there were tears in her eyes.

"Just leave me alone ... please ... Anthony, I. ..." But she couldn't go on. She wanted him so badly. Wanted to share with him the joy of his child that she found herself melting into his arms and hoping that the dreams would come true after all.

"It's all right, baby. It's all right. I just couldn't imagine ... I'm not. ..." And then at last when her tears had subsided, they sat down. "But are we ready, Bettina?"

She smiled valiantly through red eyes. "Sure. Why not?" For all those years with Ivo she had stifled that dream. She hadn't even known how much she wanted children. Until now. Suddenly this meant everything to her.

"But how will we feed it?" He looked bleak, but she was thinking of her jewelry. She'd sell everything if she had to, just to take care of the child.

"Don't worry. We'll manage. We manage now, don't we?"

"That's not the same thing."

And then, sighing deeply, as though it caused him pain too, he looked at her regretfully. "As much as I'd hate to do it, don't you think it would make more sense this time to have an abortion and then try again later, when we've saved some money, when we're both on our feet, when I'm not out of work?" But she was shaking her head determinedly.

"No."

"Bettina ... be reasonable!"

"Goddamn it, is that all you want? An abortion?" On and on the argument raged. In the end Bettina won. But Anthony looked grim for the next two weeks. She didn't leave him, but she thought of it often, and then suddenly one day he came home radiant and gave out a loud whoop.

She came to find him in the doorway and smiled when she saw his broad grin. "What happened to you?" But she could guess.

"I got work!"

"What kind of work? Tell me!" She was happy for him and followed him to the couch; suddenly their hostility of the past weeks seemed to dim. "Come on, Anthony ... tell me!"

"I will, I will!" But for a moment he seemed too happy to talk. It was a beautiful part. "I got the lead in Sonny Boy!" He looked at her triumphantly. It was the biggest hit on Broadway.

"On Broadway?" She looked stunned. She had recently heard a rumor that the star was leaving the show after its stellar fifteen-month run. But Anthony was shaking his head.

"On the road, my love, on the road. But not shit towns this time, my darling. All the best cities in the States. This time we travel with a little class! No flophouses, no cockroaches. We can even stay in some decent hotels for a change." And then he told her how much they were paying him.