His Wife Leaves Him

by Stephen Dixon

  When both girls were in college, and before that, when one was and the other had the little Echo to drive to high school and didn’t need one of them to pick her up anymore, Gwen and he would teach and hold office hours at the same time on the same days in the same building on campus. After school, they liked to stop off at a bagel shop on the way home to buy a half-dozen bagels. Then, as one of them drove, they’d each eat a bagel with nothing on it, he usually an everything bagel and she a sesame. Then she went on a gluten-free diet—he forgets why, but she stuck to it—and they’d stop off at the same store after school and he’d eat a bagel as they drove and she’d finger around the bottom of the bag for the seeds of the poppy and sesame bagels and the garlic and onion bits from the everything bagels and eat those. “We should ask the people at Sam’s Bagels if they could make a gluten-free bagel,” he said once when they were driving home. “There’s got to be a market for it, just as there seems to be for banana and blueberry and chocolate and Old Bay seasoning bagels and, around St. Patrick’s Day, green bagels, all of which we hate. It isn’t fair that I get to eat a whole bagel, when we’re so hungry, and you only get what’s fallen off in the bag.” She said “I doubt I’d want to eat a gluten-free bagel. Amaranth? Millet? Brown rice or quinoa? I’m sure they’d all be tasteless and difficult to chew. These dregs will hold me till we get home.”

  How could he have not thought of this one till now? The examining nurse, if that’s what she’s called, sent them back home from the hospital, which they’d gone to that morning, because Gwen hadn’t dilated near enough to think she was going to give birth anytime soon. “Your baby’s coming, don’t worry about that, but probably not till late this afternoon or tonight. You don’t want to hang around here, do you? We have no place for you to lie down.” At home, about two hours later, while she was resting in bed and he was in the kitchen reading because he couldn’t stand the music the radio was playing in the bedroom—an entire morning devoted to Dvorak, they said—she started screaming. He ran in. “It’s the contractions,” she said. “I think the baby’s coming out. Check.” He lifted her nightgown; didn’t see anything. Spread her labia wide and saw the baby’s head two to three inches in and for a moment slowly moving forward. “Oh, shit,” he said. “What are we going to do? We’ll never make it to the hospital in time.” She yelled “The baby’s going to die. She’s going to die. The cord will strangle her.” “Shhh,” he said, “let me think. Worse comes to worst, I’ll pull her out myself and cut the cord with scissors, so don’t worry. Of course!” He dialed 911. The dispatcher took his name and address and asked a lot of medical questions. He said “But when will they be here?” and she said “An emergency team is already in the truck and on the way. Keep your front door open; also the door leading into the building.” “I can’t. The cats will run out. Tell the team both doors will be unlocked and just walk in.” “They’re on the way,” he told Gwen. “Feeling any better?” “Feeling better. Not as much pain. Thank you about the cats.” “Just stay calm. It’ll be all right. The damn Dvorak. It’s making me crazy,” and he shut it off. “Leave it on,” she said. It’s one of the Slavonic Dances, or Rhapsodies—I suddenly don’t remember—but the one I love most,” and she laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes and hummed the rhapsody or dance. He turned on the radio, unlocked the front door, went downstairs one flight with a plant and put it up against the building’s entrance door to keep it open, ran back and said “I won’t leave you again,” and stroked her forehead, which was wet, and kissed her fingers. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re my husband. Could you wipe my face?” and he wiped it with his handkerchief. “It’s clean; never used.” “And the baby’s alive?” and he said “I’m sure it is. Don’t worry.” Five minutes after he dialed 911, a woman yelled “We’re here. EMU. Which way do we go?” and he yelled “Through the kitchen and then to the right. The woman and two men came in with what seemed like valises and a duffel bag and folded-up gurney. They quickly examined her, plugged something into the wall and attached some wires to her. The vagina was dilated all the way and the baby’s skull was almost sticking out of it. “This’ll be easy,” the woman said. They delivered her on the bed, Gwen gritting her teeth and he holding her hand through it. The radio was still on and he shut it off. “Fastest delivery we ever had,” the woman who pulled out the baby and now held her said. “It’s a girl,” and he said “We know.” “Most parents don’t with the first one,” and he said “They told us earlier by accident at the obstetrician’s office. The baby looks healthy. Be honest; is she?” and she said “She looks good to me. Lots of color; breathing’s okay. Nothing clogging her and strong healthy cry. But they’ll give her a full exam in the hospital and tell you. How do you feel, Gwen? And congratulations,” and the other two, detaching wires from her and the wall and putting things back in the valises and duffel bag, said “Yeah, congratulations, ma’am.” “I hurt and I’m tired and I know I don’t look ecstatic, but I am,” Gwen said. “Thank you all so much. Are you going to cut the umbilical cord?” and the woman, cleaning the baby with what looked like Handi Wipes, said “We’ve been advised, since it isn’t necessary to do it right away, to let the doctors cut it in the hospital. Less chance of infection. Now we got to get you there,” and they opened the gurney. “What’s that?” Gwen said. “Something else feels like it’s about to come out of me,” and the woman said “I was hoping we could avoid this. Probably the placenta. Most times it takes longer to come out. Now we have to cut the cord, but it won’t hurt you or the baby,” and she cut it and pinned or tied it up and said “Do you have a clean bucket or big bowl you wouldn’t mind it being in?” Some more liquid came out and then the placenta in one piece. She picked it up and put it into the salad bowl he’d rushed into the kitchen to get. “If you don’t mind, we’ll have to take the bowl with us in case they want to look at it for anything—that part of it I’m not too knowledgeable about. You know about the fontanel?” and he said “I’ve been warned.” She handed him the baby wrapped in a towel. Then she and the men lifted Gwen onto the gurney, put a blanket over her and strapped her in. She took the baby from him and set her beside Gwen and covered them with a sheet she took out of a sealed plastic bag. One of the men said to Gwen “Keep your arm around her but not too tight. We’ll go very slow and careful.” They carried the gurney downstairs to the first floor and wheeled it to the street. Some tenants from the building were on the sidewalk and waved to Gwen and said “Good luck.” She said “See my baby?” and pulled the sheet down to the baby’s chin. He kissed Gwen and said “See you in the hospital,” and the gurney was slid into the back of the truck. “Can I come along?” he said, and the woman said “You don’t have a car? By city law you should ride up front and it’ll be crowded back there with two of us and your wife.” “I’d rather not leave them.” He sat in the seat next to the driver’s. The driver turned the siren on and they drove to the hospital he and Gwen were at a few hours before. “Siren on because you think something might be wrong with the baby?” and the driver said “No; just gets us there faster and we don’t have to stop for lights.” “It was a close one, though, wasn’t it?” and the driver said “Your baby? No, they usually turn out all right. Those little things are tougher than you think. You got a name for it?” “Rosalind. My wife’s choice. Sort of a family name.” “Everyone will call her Roz,” and he said “I hope not, but if they do, we’ll still call her Rosalind at home.” “And if it was a boy?” and he said “We knew it wasn’t, so never chose one.” “And sorry about the mess we made at your place. Couldn’t be helped. You’re going to have a lot to clean up when you get home.” “Doesn’t bother me. Right now everything’s just fine.” He looked through the little window behind him to the back. The woman and man were seated and Gwen and they had their eyes closed. He couldn’t see the baby. “Is there enough air back there? They all seem to be sleeping,” and the driver said “Probably everyone’s tired. Been a long day for all of us. It also shows
there’s no problem with your wife and kid. If there was, the monitor alarm would be sounding and my co-workers would be up and working on them. You should get some sleep too. You look exhausted.” “I’ve got a long wait till then. I want to make sure everything’s okay with them first.” “They’ll be all right. Go home early. Take advantage of the hospital. We’re lucky, living in this city. It’s got a rating for being the best medical center in the country, maybe the world. I don’t know about obstetrics, but I know for just about everything else, so obstetrics has to be right up there on top too.” “Good; good. I’m still worried—that’s my nature—but I’ll be okay.”

  He dropped in on his mother the day after he introduced her to Gwen. They sat in the breakfast room, each with a drink he’d made them: Jack Daniels on the rocks with a splash of water and for her with a lemon peel in it. “Cheers,” he said, and she said “Cheers,” and they drank. “So, Mom, tell me what you think of her,” and she said “What do I think? I think she’s wonderful and perfect for you and you for her. She’s charming, precious, elegant, very intelligent, and with such a sweet face and voice. I always wished I had a voice and complexion like hers.” “You have a nice voice. What’s wrong with your voice? And your complexion? It’s still smooth and you hardly have a line.” “Thank you. And you seem to like her parents. That’s a good sign,” and he said “Oh, what they went through. Before they came here they lost everyone in World War II but her mother’s father. To tell you the truth, her coming from people like that I find very attractive about her too.” “So you like that she’s Jewish? Because before you only went out and got serious with Gentile girls, or since you were in college,” and he said “There’s been a Jewish girl or two in there, but it’s fine.” “What I hope she doesn’t end up thinking is that you’re too old for her. More than ten years. That’s a lot.” “You and Dad were nine years apart,” and she said “And when I met him, and I was much younger than Gwen, I already thought of him as a middle-aged man. Something else could work against you. That you don’t have a profession but writing, which is a wonderful thing to do but it so far barely pays you enough to live on for one. If those don’t bother her, then everything should go well between you. I’ve got my fingers crossed. I already foresee myself feeling toward her as if she were my own daughter. I was that impressed by her at our lunch and saw immediately what sort of person she was—the best sort. So I’m warning you,” and he said “Oy, I knew this was coming.” “Listen to me. Don’t do anything stupid to lose her. You’re reaching an age where it won’t be so easy finding another girl like her, especially one with so many child-bearing years left. You want to have a family, don’t you? You’ve spoken of it enough, so I assume you still do. You’d be reducing your chances by getting a woman your own age or one a few years younger. You’re not going to get married right away. That could take a year or two and a child a year more, and two children—well, you figure it. So you’re fortunate she fell for you, or is starting to, and I can only hope and pray it gets even better and lasts.” “Come on, Mom, it can’t be that bad for me. There are plenty of terrific women out there,” and she said “If there are, then how come you always choose the wrong one? Maybe with the exception of Diana, who I liked, but that relationship was bound to fail—she was simply too capricious, which this one doesn’t seem to be. I like it that she gives you a look that she adores you. That can also stop, with a few mistakes by you, so anything you can do to help make it work, do.” “I knew you’d like her. I don’t know if she adores me, like you say, or what she really thinks of me, although she is showing some very nice feelings and seems to like being with me.” “Does she call you if you don’t call her?” and he said “What does that have to do with it? We speak to each other every day on the phone, even if we see each other that day. So yes, she does. And it’s not a case of if I call, then she makes the next call, and then I make the one after that, and so on. We call when we want to, which is a lot. Anyway, I’ll try not to screw it up, I promise.” “It’s for your benefit, you know. Mine too, of course, that I want you to finally be settled with someone so nice, but mostly yours.”

  He went to his mother’s apartment the day after he got back from Maine the first time. He brought a bottle of Jack Daniels with him because she might be running low—it was the only liquor she drank—and he knew he was going to have two drinks, and then she’d want a second too. It was a hot day, around six, and they sat in the shaded L-shaped backyard that bordered what they called the breakfast room. “Cheers,” she said, and they drank. She asked if he got a lot of work done this summer, and he said “Yes.” “How was it with her parents for a week?” and he said “Fine. Her father only stayed two days. He hates mosquitoes. Reminds him too much of Uzbekistan, where he was in a Soviet internment camp. But they were very easy guests, as you were.” “I’d like to meet them again. I know I’d get to like them, short time I was with them and their having such a wonderful daughter. I could invite them for lunch,” and he said “We’ll see.” “You get along with them, though, don’t you?” and he said “Her mother can be a little overprotective of her, but yes.” “How is Gwen?” and he said “Fine.” “She teaching at Columbia this year?” and he said “Yes. Second year of her postdoc fellowship. Humanities again. I think she starts in a week.” “And you start your own teaching at NYU in a few weeks,” and he said “It’s nothing compared to hers. Continuing ed. Two fiction-writing classes that meet ten times a semester, at five hundred dollars a course. Slave wages, but it’s a start and it’ll get me out of the house.” “You need money? I can spare some,” and he said “I have enough, thanks.” “Enough might not be enough,” and he said “I’m fine.” “You don’t seem yourself, Martin. I thought you’d come in all chipper, but you seem down. Anything bothering you you want to talk about?” and he said “No.” “You don’t want to talk about it?” and he said “Nothing’s wrong.” “Don’t tell me. You know you can’t pull the wool over my eyes. It has to be something to do with Gwen.” “All right. She dumped me.” “She broke it off? I can’t believe it. When I was in Maine, you two were so close. When did this happen?” and he said “When she dropped me off at my building yesterday.” “You had no inkling?” and he said “There was some trouble between us this summer, but I thought we’d worked everything out. So a big shock.” “Is it another guy?” and he said “No. I’d rather not talk about it anymore, Mom,” and she said “What a pity. I was hoping, when you said you were coming over, for so much better news. You’re going to have to look hard for another girl like her,” and he said “I really don’t want to hear it. I feel lousy enough.” “I understand. Of course there’s nothing I can do or that you’d let me try to do to fix things,” and he said “What an idea. I can just see you calling her up and saying what a perfect match you thought we were.” “Well, it’s true; you were. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. But at least you still have your sense of humor about it. You didn’t do anything bad to make her change her mind about you?” and he said “No. I just think that in the long run she thought I wasn’t the ideal mate for her. She eventually wants marriage and children, which is what I want too and with her if I could, but she thinks I’d make a very poor provider because my writing would always come first.” “So tell her you’ll put aside most of your writing for the time being to get a good job and work hard at keeping it,” and he said “She’d see that as a desperate and insincere move on my part to get back with her. She knows me. And it’s not that I can’t write and hold down a full-time job at the same time. I’ve done it—I mean serious jobs; news work, technical writing, editing magazines—but all that’s way in the past. I’ve managed to arrange my life the last ten years where I’m basically unemployable for any other work but jobs like bartending and waiting on tables and driving a cab and teaching in continuing ed at fifty bucks a class, and that isn’t going to do it. I’ve tried to get appointments in writing departments that pay fairly well and have benefits and everything else, but nobody’s interes
ted. I have four books and a hundred published stories and a couple of good fellowships, but they all say, when they answer me—only two have but it must be what the other fifty are thinking—that I need an M.F.A.” “You know what? I think she’s going to call you in two weeks and say she misses you and wants you two to meet to talk things over.” “She won’t call. I’ve been in this situation before. Once they say they’re though, at least with me, they’re through,” and she said “That wasn’t so with Diana. She broke it off with you so many times and then came running back, you stopped telling me.” “I should have stayed broken up with her the first time, which isn’t how I feel about Gwen. But it’s over with, really,” and she said “It’s not. Take it from me, Martin. She’ll call, maybe even sooner than two weeks, and you’ll talk and get back together and be married in a year and have children, or just one child, but you’ll be happy again and a wonderful couple. I could see this summer how much in love with you she was, and that was just a month ago and it doesn’t stop so fast,” and he said “I’m now beginning to believe she wasn’t that much in love with me at all. I now don’t even know why she even started with me.” “Don’t say that. She started with you because you’re a great catch.” “Oh yeah, great catch. No dough, no prospects, just my writing, which doesn’t pay off much. Hair going, in my forties. Sure, great catch,” and she said “You are. Stop belittling yourself. You’re handsome, you’re polite, you’re nice, built like a circus strongman, creative and smart, and you’re tall. Who wouldn’t want you? So let’s try and put our heads together to see what we can do to make things better for you. Here,” and she gave him her empty glass. “Have another drink and refill mine.” “Didn’t Dr. Gelfand say—I know he did; I was there—that for you to stop from falling and to get sufficient sleep, one per day should be your limit?” and she said “Listen to me, not him. One more won’t kill me and it’ll keep you here longer and I don’t drink this much every day.” They had another drink and talked about other things and then he left.