uncontrollably. “I don’t know how I’d get rid of it now, I don’t know if
it would kill me just to try. But I’m willing.”
“No, Sunny,” he said firmly.
“You thought it was a good idea not so long ago,” she reminded him. “You
said—”
“I know what I said. It was barbarous!”
“You asked me to get an abortion and I didn’t think I could. But I
hadn’t been living without you for three months then. I think I could do
it now.”
“I won’t let you do it now and don’t ever bring it up again,” he said.
“Well then, can we live together anyway, even if I have the baby?” she
implored him.
“No we can’t, Sunny!” he cried, throwing out his arms for understanding.
“I wish that poor little kid had never been conceived but I’m not going
to _murder_ it,” he added. “The night I found out about us I was half
mad with grief and that baby seemed like the crowning blow. But it
wasn’t a person, then, honey. It was just a mess of proliferating cells.
Now it’s a baby. You can’t go around murdering babies. Go ahead and
_have_ it.”
“Thanks a lot! You’re too generous, Page,” she said. “You get me
pregnant and then graciously _allow_ me to have the damn baby. And just
how shall I support this creature, now that I’m permitted the joys of an
illegitimate birth, labor pains, no money in the bank, no husband in my
bed, no father for my child? Shall I feed it pipe dreams and dress it in
lullabies? Shall I wrap Junior in an old rag and pass the tin cup around
to my neighbors?”
“Good God, Sunny, there’s money in the bank,” he said.
“I’ve been spending some these past few months, you know,” she said.
“There’s the rent. And I can’t seem to stop eating—not entirely, anyway.
Oh, and the doctor bills. And I’ve seen at least two movies.”
“Well, God damn it, I know you’ve spent money. I’m _making_ money and
every cent I don’t need is in your bank account.”
“It is?”
“Don’t you ever read the balance sheet they send you?” he demanded,
insulted that she should have thought he would let her starve.
“No. I can’t understand it,” she said. “I didn’t know if it was the top
figure or the bottom one.”
“Oh, God,” he murmured, almost laughing with exasperation. “Sunny, did
you think I’d send you to the poor house?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t know you at all any more, Page.” She got up from
the floor and walked across the room to where he stood with his back to
her, putting her hands lightly on his hips.
“I always thought we were so much alike before we got married, darling.
And I don’t mean our faces, either. I mean in the way we thought, the
way we looked at life.
“Remember when we met? I ran out of the bushes and there you were,
standing by the lake, completely bare. Anybody else would have covered
himself up and acted like a silly fool. I kept waiting for you to make
an ass of yourself. But you just stood there and kidded me and let me
look at you and didn’t seem to mind at all that your clothes were piled
up under a tree twenty feet away.
“Page, I never was so excited, so scared, so thrilled, in my life. The
way you looked at me, the way you stood there, seemed to sum up your
whole attitude toward life—and mine. You were bold, you were amused with
me and with yourself. You were so wonderful to look at. And you weren’t
ashamed. All I could think of from that day on was, ‘That’s the kind of
man I could adore and live with and take care of for the rest of my
life.’
“You made me feel so womanly, Page. So feminine and passionate. I always
liked boys and I’d had my share of crushes. But I’d never felt like that
before till I met you.”
“I know, baby, I know,” he said softly. “It was wonderful. But hell, it
was normal, sweetheart. Moral.” He paused, trying to keep himself
controlled, pulling her arms around him as he continued. “God, you were
gorgeous. I couldn’t quite believe you. When you suddenly burst in on me
I was too surprised to move. And when I could, I was afraid I’d lose you
if I did. So I stood there and kidded you to make you stay. To make you
look at me as long as possible.”
“There was never anything Puritanical about our romance,” she said. “A
lot of people say we went too far.”
“I’m no Puritan, honey,” he protested. “We were two unrelated kids as
far as we knew. If two people are clean and decent and really in love,
then what they do with their bodies is only an expression of their love.
No sin, certainly. But there are some things I won’t and can’t do,
things that offend me morally.”
“You break down and do them, though,” Sunny said. “You hypocrite. And
don’t you call me a moral offense.”
“Do you have to twist everything I say? Don’t you know—”
“I know we used to agree on everything!” she wailed. “Now we can’t agree
on anything at all.”
“That’s because everything in our lives resolves around the central fact
of incest.”
She reclaimed her arms and moved away from him, the old despair fighting
up in her again. “No, it’s not just that,” she said. “You’ve changed,
Page. You’re a different man from the one I married. You even had a bad
argument with Jack Mann, your best friend, because he tried to put in a
good word for me.”
“I suppose Laura told you,” he said angrily. “Well, Laura’s all wet.
Sure, he put in a good word for you. I expected him to. But that’s not
why I broke off with him.”
“You broke off with him because you couldn’t take the truth!” She cried.
“You broke your promise to me and told him our secret, and when he told
you what a twerp you are, you went to pieces.”
Across the length of the small room they looked at each other as if the
Grand Canyon, narrower but just as deep, yawned between them.
“That had nothing to do with it,” Page said. “I dropped him because he’s
a damn fairy!”
Sunny was too startled to answer him for a moment. When she finally did
it was with a dour laugh. “Page, I really think you’re dotty,” she said.
“Jack Mann is about as much of a fairy as you are. And I’m here to state
you aren’t.”
“He told me so himself,” Page said. “He was trying to make me
understand, as he put it, that abnormality can be fun.”
“Like hell he was,” Sunny flashed. “He was probably trying to get it
through that thick skull of yours that you can live with abnormality.
You don’t have to turn tail and run.”
“Don’t you listen when I tell you something?” Page shouted. “He’s
_queer_, Sunny!”
“Well, what do you want me to do, write to my Congressman? Besides,
there are all kinds of homosexuals. You don’t have to put on lipstick
and skirts and flirt in the streets. If Jack is a homosexual, that’s his
business. If we’re incestuous, that’s ours!”
“I might have known you’d react like this,” he said harshly.
“Jack Mann is a good friend of mine,” she cried with feeling, “and I
wouldn’t care if he were an ape in the zoo; it’s all the same to me. I
like him and I’m grateful for his friendship. If it weren’t for Jack, I
would have been even more miserable than I am.”
Page picked up his forgotten drink and finished it, as if the only way
to deal with such idiocy was to get drunk.
She marched up to him as he smacked the glass down on his desk. “You
listen to me, Page Pringle,” she said. “I’m ashamed of you.”
“You’re what? You’re ashamed of _me_!” he said in disbelief.
“I’m ashamed of the way you treated Jack. You weren’t afraid to be his
friend when you thought he was normal. You would never have guessed, and
he didn’t have to tell you. Don’t you suppose it hurt him to speak the
truth? And why did he do it? Because he’s a true friend. Because you
matter to him.”
“I’ll bet I do!”
“And I don’t mean _that_ way!” she broke in. “Did he ever lay a finger
on you?”
“I’d have tied him in knots if he had.”
“You’re a damn coward, Page. You’re afraid of Jack because he’s more of
a man than you are.”
He stared at her open-mouthed, his face going scarlet.
“He has guts. I mean that, Page. He had the courage to tell you a
terrible secret, to risk losing your affection and respect—which by the
way he did—because he had faith in you. He wanted to help. His mistake
was that you weren’t worth it.”
“Sunny, that man is a degenerate—”
“And you’re a rotten coward!” she said with bitter tears. “I know what
Jack is, and it isn’t degenerate. If you had his courage, you’d be a
better man.”
“You mean I’d be in your bed. Like the coward I am _not_,” he said,
slamming a heavy fist down on the desk and making his whiskey glass
jump.
“You are a coward, Page, because you can’t face this thing,” she said,
calmer now but still crying. “Because from the very night you found out
you were my brother you’ve been running away from me. You ran out that
night and you’ve been running like a frightened hare ever since.”
“I have the courage to see this marriage has to end,” he said, shaking
with rage. “Hopelessly as I love you, I have the courage to admit that
our life together would be one long nightmare and our baby’s life would
be ruined by it.”
“You’d see to that, wouldn’t you?”
“The hardest thing I ever did was leave you, Sunny. If that’s being a
coward, all right, I’m a coward. I love you, I never loved anybody like
I love you, but—”
He stopped, too broken up to talk. “But it’s over,” he said hoarsely at
last. “If you think a coward could face that, you’re wrong. _You’re_ the
coward, Sunny, as long as we’re pointing fingers. You’re the one who’s
clinging to rosy dreams.”
“Page, you think if you look the other way and keep your front door
locked this whole mess will clean itself up. God, I wish I had the
strength to slug you! That law book you read me: ‘We don’t have to do
anything, we’re automatically un-married.’ How nice for you. That’s a
coward’s way out, Page, and that’s what you are. _Coward!_” She
shrieked.
His eyes took on a hot shine and she could see the muscles working under
the skin of his face. “You come with me,” he said. “I want to show you
something.” He was perilously angry and Sunny’s temper vanished suddenly
in wave of fear. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her roughly
after him into his small kitchen. Sunny scrambled after him, afraid he
would crack her wrist. She had never seen him like this before, and yet
it was a strangely familiar expression he wore. She gasped when she
recognized it: it was the look her father, Ben Rotheli, wore one time
when a local business rival tried to ruin him by impugning June’s
virtue. It was a look of uncontrollable fury.
Page released her by the sink and went to a drawer in one of the
cupboards. She stood silent and shaking while he pulled the drawer open
and fumbled in it. But when he took out a chef’s knife, heavy-handled
and with a massive blade of spotted steel, she gave a little scream.
“Now who’s a coward?” he said, glaring at her, waving the blade slowly
back and forth under her face.
Sunny stood white and still in front of him. “Go ahead, operate,” she
whispered. “You never wanted the baby, anyway.” There was almost more
contempt than fear in her voice.
“Not on you,” he said and his voice went deathly quiet, like hers. Sunny
dared to look at his face then. “If I hurt you you’d have a good reason
for calling me a coward,” he said. “And you’d be right.”
Her eyes went huge with alarm then. “Page, don’t hurt yourself,” she
begged. “I didn’t mean it. Page!”
“Sure you meant it.” He was temporarily demented with wrath and
humiliation, and before she could stop him he put his left hand down on
the drainboard of the sink, palm up and with the fingers spread, and
struck a terrible blow to the little finger. Sunny shut her eyes.
There was an awful silence. Page dropped the knife with a nerve-scraping
clatter into the sink and lifted his hand. Slowly Sunny opened her eyes
and looked at it. The finger clung to its place by a forlorn thread of
skin, hanging horribly backwards and upside-down against the back of his
hand and bleeding heavily. He picked up the knife again and sawed it
free and threw it at her feet.
Sunny had covered her mouth with both hands in an effort to stifle her
shock. Now she stooped as if in a dream and recaptured the severed
finger. A strange sort of calm enveloped them both as she straightened
up. Having touched the awful thing, so lately living, her horror left
her. She was almost drowned in a well of love and pity.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she wept softly. “You fool. You big baby.”
His disembodied finger vanished within her clenched hand. She stared at
the tiny red rivers seeping through the cracks of her own fingers and
blending with her tears.
“Yes, I did,” he said, holding his left hand up carefully to stem the
copious blood flow. The pain was only half-real to him. The whole
action, in fact, seemed dreamlike. “It was worth it. I can tell by your
eyes. I’m not a coward, Sunny.”
“I didn’t mean this way, darling,” she said. “You’re the bravest man in
the world. I meant—the _other_ way. Morally.”
“You mean I did all this for nothing?”
She shook her head. “Page, if you offered me the world on a string it
wouldn’t mean half to me what this poor bloody finger means,” she wept.
“Darling, what a stupid, gruesome, _brave_ thing to do. Page ... I love
you more than I can bear. Forgive me.”
And she went to him and kissed him and his gory hand. They stood
together with their arms around each other; damp and discolored with
blood and tears; too stunned to talk any more.
13
“You know, Laura, I don’t think either of us really knew what courage
meant that day,” Sunny wrote to Laura Mann. “We were a couple of little
kids lost in the dark, each one hanging on to the other, near dead with
fright and both shouting how brave we were. To Page, courage was the
strength to do what he thought was right. To me, courage was the guts to
do what I knew damn well was wrong. (By conventional standards, at
least). We were at opposite ends of the pole, too proud to meet
halfway.”
* * * * *
Sunny left Page’s apartment that night with Page asleep from the effects
of a sedative the doctor had given him. She went home in a taxi. There
had been no verbal understanding between her and Page. It seemed as
though the more they talked about their problem, the farther they drew
apart. They traveled away from each other on the wings of their own
words.
But when they kissed or clasped hands or stood and shared a lingering
look, words were unnecessary. They had made love this time, they had
been so close to one another that Sunny began to hope the future wasn’t
all black.
Page had told her with his hands, his eyes, his mouth, how much she was
cherished. No matter how wrong and painful and misunderstood their
speeches were, they never misunderstood each other’s kisses.
She spent the next few days expecting him to call her, and when nearly a
week went by and he didn’t, she was gravely hurt.
What does he expect me to do, make all the advances? she wondered. I’ve
swallowed my pride. Let him swallow his this time.
* * * * *
It was in a downcast mood that Sunny went to Dr. Settick for her
six-month check-up. She sat in the examination room, staring at the
white gown that covered her and trying not to think of Page. She hardly
heard the doctor enter.
He walked around in front of her, pulled her chart out of a folder, and
checked her weight without a word of greeting. Total gain for six
months: two pounds. He noted it, still silent, and turned to look her
over.
It was so unlike him to keep quiet that she glanced up at him. “Am I all
right?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” he said, straightening up. “_Are_ you all right? You
tell me.”
“I _feel_ all right,” she said.
“How does your husband feel?” He eyed her closely.
“He had a slight accident last week,” she answered. “I imagine he’s
still pretty uncomfortable.”
“Oh? You wrung his neck, I hope. Sunny, you’re badly underweight. The
baby seems to be all right. His heart is strong and he’s growing. But
frankly, you worry me. The first time I saw you in here you were smiles
all over, just like your name. And when I told you you were going to be
a mother you nearly floated out of here. Now you’re moody, gloomy,
listless....” He sighed. “I’m the last guy to make predictions, but I
don’t like what your husband’s been doing to your state of mind.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” she said shyly.
“Well, something had better be done about it,” Settick said, “if you
want me to take responsibility for delivering that baby in good
condition.”
“Is it that bad?”
“It could be. It depends on how much pressure you’re under and how
strong you are to resist it. This is your first baby and there’s no way
of telling.”
“What can I do?” she asked. “If anything happens to my child—”
“Do you ever see your husband?” the doctor asked.
“Now and then.”
“Does it upset you a lot?”
“I guess it does,” she admitted with restraint.
“Then you shouldn’t see him at all,” Settick told her. “I mean that,
Sunny. You’re in no shape to fight and argue and whatever the hell else
you do with the guy. I’m telling you honestly: forget him till after the
baby comes. Don’t call him and don’t let him in. Tell him it’s doctor’s
orders and if he gives you a bad time tell him to call me. I think I
have good medical grounds for asking you to do this.” He stepped closer
to her, though there was a careful lack of intimacy in his manner.
“Sunny, you’re such a damn sweet girl,” he said. He leaned his weight on
the examination table behind her, his eyes averted. “You ought to be the
way you were the day I met you, and instead you’re coasting downhill.
There’s nothing physically wrong, nothing I can prescribe any more pills
for. But it’s obvious your husband’s making you miserable, and if he
doesn’t quit it’s my professional opinion he may injure this child
you’re carrying. Or you. I don’t know how I can make it any stronger.”
“I don’t know if I _can_ stop seeing him,” Sunny said.
“Well, okay, it’s your choice,” Settick said, shrugging. “You can choose
between husband and baby. At the moment, I think baby comes first. You
can square things up with your husband later.”
Sunny breathed deeply and fought her tears. To make it easier for her,
Dr. Settick pretended not to notice and re-aligned the papers in her
file.
“If I can’t see him at all, I think I’d better get out of the city,” she
said when her nerves steadied. “Because if I’m still here and he’s still
here, I’ll see him, Doctor.”
Settick folded his arms on his chest, and shook his head at her.
“Brother,” he said. “You sure are a case. The guy makes you sick and you
adore him for it. If you love each other so much why aren’t you happy?
It doesn’t make sense.”
“I guess it doesn’t,” she agreed.
“I don’t mean to pry,” he added. “But if you have to move out of New
York, move quickly. I suggest California.”
“Why California? It’s so far away.”
“That’s exactly why,” he said. “Ever been there?”
“No.”
“That makes it even better. He won’t suspect it. He’ll think you went
home to Mama. And when he finds out otherwise, he won’t know where to
look. My brother Brian lives in Los Angeles,” he went on. “I told you
about him. He’s an obstetrician too. I want to keep close track of you,
Sunny, and give you the best medical care. Brian is the best ... Could
you finance the trip?”
“I think so, Page puts money in the bank every month.”
“Wait till the last minute and then close out the account. You’ll like
the coast,” he added reassuringly. “Brian’s wife will show you around.”
Sunny couldn’t help being touched and grateful for his concern. “I’d
only do this for the baby,” she said. “I don’t care about myself.”
“What happens to you happens to Junior. Think of it that way.”
“All right, then.” She had made a momentous decision; now she felt
tired. After a minute she became conscious of the silence and glanced up
at him. “May I go now?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, but there was an avalanche of words piled up and waiting
behind that ‘yes’ for some gesture of Sunny’s to release them. “I’ll
call you when I’ve made the arrangements,” he said. “You can go home and
pack.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “If I weren’t so tired I wouldn’t let you talk
me into this, you know.”
“That’s the first time I’ve been glad to see you tired,” he grinned.
She smiled, letting him help her down from the table, and found herself
standing right in front of him, suggestively close. Oddly immobile,
whether from weariness or a desire to be comforted she never knew, she
stood there until she felt his arms go around her. She had known they
would, and her behavior actually encouraged it. She even knew he would
kiss her, and she didn’t want his kiss. But she wanted to be held; she
wanted to be caressed and reassured by a man’s gentle strength, and she
was willing to pay for it.
It was a chaste kiss: the kind a man gives a woman he reveres; a woman
he can’t have and yet can’t give up. It surprised Sunny, who thought the
young doctor would make the most of this chance to rouse her sexually.
But he seemed to know that such a move could only repel her then.
Instead he touched her lips lightly with his and kissed her forehead.
And then he wrapped her in the strong embrace she yearned for and rocked
her tenderly.
He was so kind, so careful to control his fascination with her lest he
offend her, that he won her over. She clung to him and let herself cry
into his starchy clean coat.
“Sunny,” he said, afraid of breaking the spell but more afraid he’d
never talk to her again. “I have no right to say this, but—”
“Don’t then, please,” she pleaded.
“Let me. Just listen for one minute. I have no claim on you. You belong
to another man. You love him. For some reason he sees fit to torment
you—”
“You’re being unfair!”
“Okay, I’m unfair. I don’t know all the facts.” He held her closer. “But
I do know you’re bitterly unhappy because of him and you’re making
yourself sick over it. Every time I see you I want to take you in my
arms and brush away the tears and make you smile. Sunny, I haven’t been
very subtle about this. I guess it’s no secret that ever since you’ve
been coming here I—I’ve had a special interest in you.”
“Dr. Settick—”
“My name is Richie,” he said gently. “Let me finish. For want of a
better word let me say I’m infatuated with you. If you weren’t married
I’d call it something much stronger. I’d want you for my own.”
“Richie, I didn’t mean to start this,” she said, pressing away from him.
But he held her firmly.
“Just one last thing,” he said. “I know I can’t have you. But please let
me help you. I can’t tell you what it would mean to me to see you safely
through this pregnancy. If I thought we could get away with it I’d
certainly keep you here where I can watch over you myself. The next best
thing is to put you in Brian’s care. And when the baby’s due I’m coming
out there to deliver it. I want you to promise me—”
“I can’t ask you to drop everything and—”
“You don’t have to ask me, I _want_ to do it.” He looked down at her and
she could see in his serious clean-featured face that he meant it. “I’ve
been planning a couple of weeks off later in the summer anyway. I’ll be
in close touch with Brian. And I want you to write me, too. Sunny, let
me do this. Don’t be embarrassed by my feelings for you. Don’t even
think about them. I’m a good doctor, and I’ll take good care of you.
Please. It’s all of you I can ever have.”
The rush of words stopped. Sunny was tempted simply to resign her will
and be cared for. She needed it so much and he wanted so much to do it.
Was it wrong to accept his help, just because he loved her? He was a
doctor, he was trained to care for people.
“Richie,” she said awkwardly, “I’m grateful to you—”
“Then don’t turn me down.”
“I ... I can’t turn you down. I need you too much. But you mustn’t
expect me to leave my husband. I can never thank you enough for what
you’re doing for me, only—”
“I’ll never take advantage of you, Sunny.”
She smiled at him then. “You make me feel terribly selfish,” she said.
“I’m the selfish one.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I want you to know about Page. It’s never
been a question of love between us, Richie. That’s the only thing we’ve
been sure of in all this mess.” She remembered suddenly that she was
clad in a loose gown with nothing underneath it. He brought it to her
attention inadvertently, being extremely close to her as he was. With a
deep blush she said, “I’d better dress.”
“Sunny, have dinner with me tonight?”
It would be nice to have some company, some laughter. She relented
without a struggle. “All right, if you’ll let me cook it for you,” she
said. “I haven’t cooked a meal for a man in months. Seven o’clock?”
“You’ve got a deal,” he said with a grin.
* * * * *
She got a roast on the way home and some squash and fresh broccoli—the
sort of things that take a little doing when they’re spiced and wined
and buttered right, things women never fix for themselves. It felt good
to be busy in the kitchen, even though the bother wasn’t for Page.