She learned the job very fast, and the work was intense and kept her busy for the day. But when she got home, the thoughts that filled her head and the longing she felt were painful and upsetting.
One evening, she found herself alone in the restaurant. All the other waiters had gone home already, and the last of the diners had also left, so she helped the cleaner lift the chairs onto the tables. She wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere. Nothing was waiting for her at home. When she finished, she turned out the lights and locked the door after her. It was ten o’clock at night. She rushed to make it to the last bus in time, hurrying her steps, even running, but when she got to the bus stop, she saw the back of the bus driving away. She was alone at the bus stop. A few people were walking on the boardwalk along the beach. The air was heavy, and she felt the sweat break out on her chest and armpits. She debated what to do. Walk home? That would take more than an hour. Take a taxi? Maybe just ask my father to come pick me up?
She eventually decided to take a taxi. Suddenly, a car stopped next to her. She continued walking, but the car moved forward slowly next to her until she stopped. The window on the passenger side rolled down and someone asked her if he could offer her a lift. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She shook her head no and continued to walk back toward the restaurant, where she thought it would be easier to find a taxi. But the car stopped and the driver got out of the car and stood in front of her.
“Hi. Remember me?” he asked.
“No,” she answered.
It looked like his feelings were hurt, but she didn’t care.
“You showed me how to get to Main Street. I offered you a lift, but you preferred to go by bus.”
Suddenly she remembered. He was also at the dance performance on Independence Day, and maybe it was even him that sent her the flowers.
“You remember,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Maybe now I can drive you. I noticed you missed the bus, and I’m going that way anyway.”
At first, she wanted to refuse, but then she decided to accept his offer. She got into the car, which smelled of cigarettes.
“I’m John,” the driver introduced himself.
“Sonia,” she said.
“What are you doing in the area at this hour?” he asked.
“Working,” she answered curtly.
“Where?”
“At the restaurant we just passed.”
He shot a quick glance to his right and said, “Do you need money?” When he saw that his question made her angry, he added, “I’m just asking because you look like a student, and usually students don’t work during the school year.”
“No, I don’t work because I need the money. I work because I want to.”
They made the rest of the journey in silence. He stopped the car in front of the house. She thanked him, got out of the car and walked to her house without looking back. It never occurred to her to wonder how he knew exactly where to stop the car.
Several days later, she met him again at the same place and he offered to drive her home again.
“What are you doing here?” she wondered.
“I work in the area,” he answered.
“Where?”
“At a real estate office. We offer vacation apartments for tourists.”
“You work this late too?”
“Sometimes, when it’s necessary.”
The next time they met, he suggested they have a cup of coffee together, but she refused, and the time after that as well. The third time he asked her and she refused, he asked her why she was refusing and she answered, “I have a boyfriend.”
“So, where is he? How come he doesn’t come to pick you up from work?”
“Because he’s not in the area. He’s in Florida.”
“Ah.”
“But he’ll be back in two years—maybe less than two years.”
“And you’re waiting for him?”
“Of course.”
When she got home she felt ill. The conversation about David had brought up such intense pain that she ran to the bathroom and threw up. She couldn’t go to school the next day. Her mother said that she was very pale and suggested she be seen by a doctor. The doctor sent her for blood tests, and two days later she sat in front of him once again.
“How old are you?” he began the conversation.
“Almost eighteen.”
She didn’t understand what he was getting at.
“Are the results of the tests OK?” she asked warily.
“The tests say that you’re pregnant.”
At first, she was stunned and didn’t understand what he was talking about, but the longer the silence stretched, the closer she came to comprehending her situation.
When she got home, she withdrew into her bedroom and sat on her bed, feeling lost. Suddenly her life was a blank page. There was nothing written—no direction, no answers, and no support. She didn’t have the slightest idea what she should do. Every solution she came up with seemed horrible to her. David can never find out about this—at least not in the near future. It was obvious that if he did hear about it, he’d come back that very day and all their plans would go down the drain. But terminating the pregnancy didn’t seem like an option either.
After that day, when she spoke with him on the telephone, there were times where she almost opened up and told him, but she always stopped herself and talked about other things.
One day, toward the end of her shift at work, she felt a severe pain in her stomach. At first she thought it would pass, but the pain only got worse. She could no longer stand on her feet. The shift manager asked her if everything was all right. She nodded and ran to the bathroom. When she pulled down her panties, she saw they were covered in blood. She was terrified—she felt helpless and alone in the world. She got up with great difficulty, put the panties back on, washed her face, and left the bathroom with tiny steps, trying to decrease the space between her legs to prevent the blood from dripping on the floor. The shift manager came up to her and she said with pursed lips that she had to leave. She could barely drag herself out of the restaurant. Every step she took felt like she was climbing a mountain. She walked and stopped, walked and leaned against the fence by the sidewalk. All of the sudden, she heard a voice call her from out of nowhere, “Do you need help?” She lifted her head up and nodded. He helped her into the car and she asked him to take her to the hospital.
They didn’t speak the entire way. She was counting the minutes; time seemed to go on forever.
The doctor that examined her told her that she was very lucky; if she had waited any longer, she would have lost the baby. In any event, he suggested she spend the night at the hospital for observation. John waited for her in the corridor. When she left the exam room, he asked how she was feeling, and she told him she needed to stay overnight in the hospital.
“Would you like me to stay with you?”
“No, of course not,” she answered without thinking. Then she added in a softer voice, “Thank you. You saved me.”
He made a dismissive gesture with his head, then turned around and disappeared.
When she got back into the metal hospital bed, she thought that it was time to tell her parents about the pregnancy. She got down from the bed, slowly walked to the telephone, and informed her mother that she was in the hospital.
After a while, she heard her mother’s footsteps in the corridor. She straightened the pillows behind her head and sat up in bed, preparing herself for another battle in her short life.
Her mother came into the room like a storm, her father trailing behind.
She directed them to sit in the white hospital chairs, and then told them straight out that she was pregnant.
“What? I don’t understand,” her mother said, shocked.
“Leah’aleh, she’s pregnant. What’s not to understand?” said her father.
He asked, “What month are you?”
“Fourth.”
“Four! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to us.”
“Mother, I only just found out a little while ago.”
“And what happened tonight?”
“I was bleeding, but the doctor said that everything is fine—I just need to rest.”
“That’s it, then. You’re done with that job.” Her mother said to her father, “I told you she didn’t need to work. A girl her age! And you said it was OK.”
While her parents were surrounding her with their love and concern, they didn’t notice the young man pacing up and down the corridor. Every so often, he passed the opening to her room and stole a glance at them.
Their behavior angered him, awakening an emotion he’d rather forget. His mother’s shadow passed before him. He saw her thin, frail body and felt her inconsequentiality. He cringed and his muscles stiffened in his familiar contempt for her weakness. She never expressed the concern for him that Sonia’s parents were showing now; she never took a stance of any type on any issue. In his eyes, she was like a dead fish carried away by the stream. He felt the desire to burst into the room, to drag them away, to stop the repulsive closeness so he wouldn’t have to listen to the words dripping with concern.
***
Nichka didn’t go back to work. Instead, she went to the rock every day, because there she felt close to him. She would run her fingers over the names they carved. Sometimes she would lie on her back and imagine him next to her. Not a moment went by that she didn’t think of him, that she didn’t remember the words he spoke, the conversations they had, the promises they made to each other. Since he left, 3,144 hours had gone by—a little more than four months. In eight more months, he would come for a visit.
She saved the letter he had given her at the airport inside the pretty treasure box. Not a day went by that she didn’t read it. She heard his voice reading the words he wrote to her. She had already memorized it; she could recite by heart.
Several days after she returned from the hospital, a knock came on the door. Her father still hadn’t come home from work and her mother was out doing some errands; Dan was away at boarding school and Didi was listening to music in her room. She opened the door and John was standing there. He held a bouquet of lilies; he handed them to her, hoping to gain an invitation inside.
“Come in,” she invited him, but there was a lack of desire evident in her voice.
They sat in the living room. She was already wishing he would leave.
“How do you feel?” he asked and real concern was in his expression.
She softened a bit. After all, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings; he did save her that night.
“Would you like something hot to drink?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to make any effort for me,” he answered.
“It’s no effort at all. How many sugars?”
After they sipped their hot coffee, he asked why he hadn’t seen her at the restaurant.
“I quit working there.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out all of a sudden, surprising even herself.
“Ahh. I see.”
She saw his fingers clench into fists and his knuckles turn white. She thought she had embarrassed him and apologized.
“I didn’t mean to dump that on you like that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “I’m just surprised.” Then he asked, “Does your boyfriend know?”
“No. I don’t want him to know for now.”
He took a sip of his coffee again and she had the opportunity to look at him. She never noticed what a handsome man he was. His hair was dark and his skin was fair. He had high cheekbones, and she noticed he clenched his jaw every once in a while. She felt he could be very gentle, but at the same time very rough, maybe even evil. Something in his face told her that he had a great deal of pent-up emotion that could burst forth at any moment, like boiling lava.
In the weeks that followed, he visited her several times. They would sit in the living room or on the porch and talk. He wasn’t a very interesting conversationalist, but his visits helped her to pass the difficult afternoon hours. She never invited him to her bedroom or offered to go with him to the forest. These were sacred places, hers and David’s alone.
During one of his visits, he suggested they sit outside in the backyard. Her mother brought out a pitcher of iced tea and cookies warm from the oven. Her parents had gotten used to his presence. They treated him politely and kindly, like a distant cousin who had come to visit, but not warmly. It appeared that they too felt this that this young man visiting their home had something too restrained about him, something not sincere. But these feelings had no real clear basis. His behavior toward her and her parents was faultless.
After her mother set down the refreshments, she announced that she was going over to the neighbor’s house for a few minutes. When they were alone, he asked her about her plans for the future, since it had been a month already since she finished high school.
“I’d like to continue studying, but right now I can’t. I’ll wait for David and then we’ll decide together.”
“Have you told him about the pregnancy?”
“No, but I will soon. I told his parents, and I asked them to wait until I told him myself.”
“How come you’re putting it off?”
“Because I’m sure that the moment he hears, he’ll come home.”
“I see,” he muttered. “When are you planning to tell him?”
“This week… I’ll tell him this week.”
“And if he says he’s coming home?”
“I’ll be happy. As it is, I’m having a hard time.”
She noticed the conversation was centered on her, but she didn’t care. John’s life didn’t interest her at all and therefore she didn’t ask him anything; he didn’t volunteer anything.
***
The screams could be heard all along the street. They started from far away and grew closer to her house. Her mother went outside to find out what all the commotion was about. Nichka stayed in her room, waiting for her mother to fill her in. But several minutes went by, and her mother didn’t come up to her room. She opened the door and heard intermittent sobs. She heard bits of sentences, “We don’t know anything… What should we do…” More sobbing. Suddenly, she recognized the voice. It was Berta—David’s mother. Her body stiffened. She wanted to run downstairs, but she couldn’t move. One hand held on to the doorframe, and the other looked for another anchor to cling to. She didn’t want her mother to come upstairs; in fact, she hoped she didn’t. All she wanted was to continue sitting on her bed reading. She didn’t want to hear crying or screaming. All of a sudden, everything stopped. She sat down on her bed and felt like she was floating inside a bubble. Everything that was happening around her didn’t touch her. She closed her eyes and her head rested against the wall. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth and wanted to spit. The door opened slowly and her mother came inside. She intentionally didn’t open her eyes. As soon as she opened them, she knew, the bitter reality would penetrate.
“Nichka,” she heard a familiar voice far away, “open your eyes. I need to tell you something.”
Her head shook from right to left, and her eyes remained shut.
“Nichka,” her mother shook her hand, “Nichka, open your eyes. David has disappeared. Nobody knows where he is. He hasn’t been to work for two days now.”
Her first thought was that it wasn’t so bad after all. David would come back—she was sure. He would come back and explain his disappearance. She opened her eyes and looked at her mother. “He’ll be back,” she said, absently stroking the hand holding hers. Her mother looked at her with an expression full of compassion, but she didn’t say a word. She got up and walked toward the bedroom door. Before she reached the door, she took one more look at her daughter and knew that a dark curtain had come down on the horizon.
***
Weeks passe
d without a word from David; desperation began to seep into her heart like a burrowing gopher. She spent her days on the rock. She would lie on it, pressing her heart and the growing bulge in her stomach against it. Her parents left her alone, but she saw their concerned looks. When the telephone finally rang in their house and her mother came up to her room with the horrible news, she abruptly shook off the hands reaching out to her and ran out of the house.
Hours went by and her mother began to worry. Darkness had fallen on the neighborhood. When her mother reached the forest, she found her on the rock in the position she had been in during the last few weeks. She took hold of her with both hands and pulled her down. Nichka didn’t resist. She felt empty of emotions, desires, everything. Her mother carried her home, helped her lie down in her bed and covered her up to her neck, and then sat down at the foot of the bed and spent the night there with her.
The days slipped away and she hadn’t spoken a word. She hardly ate or drank. She lost weight to the point where she became almost invisible. One day her mother found her unconscious. She was hospitalized, her frail body hooked up to tubes. The doctor said that if she didn’t start eating, her health would continue to deteriorate and there would be no way back.
The world as she knew it no longer existed. She became someone else, someone she didn’t recognize and didn’t want to know.
One evening, while she was sitting with her parents in the living room, her father cleared his throat and said, “Nichka, we need to think about the baby.” She looked at him uncomprehending.
“What did you say?” she wondered.
“I said we need to think about what to do about the baby.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“You can’t raise him on your own. You’re only eighteen years old. You haven’t even begun to live yet. You need to study, learn a profession.”
“What are you trying to say to me?”
He wasn’t able to say the words. Her mother completed them instead. “Nichka, you need to put him up for adoption.”
Life in a Box Page 33
