“No, I want to sit up, please.” Jennifer forced herself to swing her legs off the deep sofa. She marveled to herself that she did suddenly have the strength to overcome the stabbing pain between her eyes. Something had happened to her. She was different, somehow. She was another kind of person. She had never been able to stand pain.
Margit stood hovering over Jennifer, her hands clasped together. “Would you like some Italian bread to go into the broth?” she asked.
“Let’s give Jennifer room to breathe,” David suggested, moving away from the sofa and sitting down across from the coffee table. Margit stayed on the sofa next to Jennifer.
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do this. I can’t feel my lips.”
“You look as if you just did a couple of rounds with Tyson.”
“And I feel it.” Jennifer picked up the soup spoon and realized she was no longer trembling. She smiled weakly at Margit and David.
“Well, that’s better,” Margit said, sighing, and she reached out to touch Jennifer’s leg. “Would you like to talk about what happened?” she said softly.
“Margit, leave Jenny alone.” He stood and went to the liquor cabinet.
“I just think it’s better if Jennifer has the opportunity to talk it out, that’s all,” she answered back.
“I know what you want,” David said, lowering his voice as he bent to retrieve the scotch bottle from the bottom of the breakfront. “You want all the gruesome details. And I think Jenny deserves to have her privacy.”
They kept talking past her, as if she were a child.
“There are no gruesome details,” Jennifer spoke up, “and I don’t mind talking about it.” She turned to Margit and tried to force her bruised face into a smile. “I didn’t lose my purse. He didn’t really hurt me. I mean, except for the obvious. I ran away, that’s all.”
“Well, where did it happen? Right here on West End Avenue?” Margit leaned closer, her eyes widening.
“No, it wasn’t here. It was over by—” Jennifer caught herself before she said Columbus Avenue. “It was over on Broadway.”
“Broadway? But it’s so busy. There are always people on Broadway. Didn’t anyone come to help you out? My God, this city!” She glared at her husband as if he were in some way responsible.
“There’s no one out tonight, Margit,” Jennifer said, returning to her soup. Eating made her feel better.
“That’s right. It’s been snowing all evening,” agreed David.
“I still think we should call the police,” Margit said again.
“Why? You heard Jenny. She wasn’t robbed. She got banged up a couple times, sure, but in this city, that’s not even considered a misdemeanor.”
“We can’t just let him get away with it.” Margit glanced back and forth, upset with Jennifer as well as her husband. “A woman isn’t safe.”
“Margit was attacked herself last week, Jenny,” David volunteered, “and she’s still edgy.”
“I’m not edgy, and I wasn’t attacked. Someone—a little black kid—tried to take my purse at Food City, that’s all. The guard grabbed him. But everywhere you turn, it seems, the great unwashed, all the homeless, the poor, are coming out of.their holes, or wherever they sleep at night, and attacking us. It’s the mayor’s fault, him and all these liberals.”
“You were once one yourself, dear,” David remarked coolly. “And the mayor certainly isn’t one anymore, either.”
Margit stood and began to pace the long living room.
“Margit, why don’t you go to bed?” David suggested, speaking softly. “Jenny would probably like to get some sleep, too.”
“I’m not going to sleep. I’m too upset.” Margit kept pacing.
“Darling, it was Jenny who was mugged, not you.”
“I know that,” she replied, biting off the words, “but it could have been me. I’m on Broadway all the time.”
“Oh, if you’re going to start talking like that, then you might as well move out of the city.”
“I’m not moving alone,” Margit snapped.
David glanced at Jennifer and smiled apologetically. “We’re sorry about all this, but you caught us in the middle of a long argument. Margit has had it with the city, wants to leave, move up the Hudson somewhere—”
“Or New Jersey.”
“—and I don’t. I’m not going to start commuting, not at my age.” He drained his scotch.
“I don’t blame you, Margit. Getting attacked like this is terrifying.” Jennifer finished the soup and tried to wipe her mouth, but when she touched her face with the cloth napkin, she winced. “I’m going to feel terrible tomorrow,” she moaned. “And I have to go to Boston.”
“Well, thank God nothing serious happened.” David stood up. “Margit, have you finished pacing? Ready to turn in?” He smiled over Jennifer’s head at his wife. He was a big, sloppy, overweight man, but when he smiled, he looked like a giant, lovable panda.
He had been Jennifer’s doctor since she was in law school, and then she had met and become good friends with Margit. Jennifer always felt that Margit treated her like the daughter she never had.
Margit seemed calmer. “Jennifer, I’ve made up Derek’s room. You can sleep there tonight. The boys are away at school.”
“Oh, Margit, thanks. I’m really sorry I’m causing so much trouble.” She limped out from behind the coffee table, knowing that she couldn’t walk to their son’s room by herself.
“If you wish, Jennifer, I’ll give you a sedative. It might help you sleep.”
“Thanks, David. I think I do need something. My whole body hurts.”
“Go with Margit. I’ll get you the pill.”
When he left, Margit whispered to Jennifer, “I’m sorry we carried on so. We’re going through a bad patch, David and I.”
“Margit, it’s okay, I understand.” She tried again to smile.
“No, I’m not sure you do,” Margit answered back. “It’s not what you think. We’re not fighting over where to live. David
well, David has found himself someone else, someone younger, and
” Margit began to cry. She was holding on to Jennifer as they walked to the bedroom.
“Oh, Margit, I’m so… I didn’t…”
“Of course. Of course. Why would you? He just told me.” Margit straightened up to turn on the light in Derek’s room. It was still littered with his teenage belongings, and a huge poster of Madonna posing half naked was pinned to the wall.
“Do you think you can sleep with her staring at you?” Margit asked, trying to laugh.
“I’ll keep the lights off.” Jennifer eased herself down on the narrow bed.
“Here you are, Jenny,” David said, returning with the pill and a glass of water. “You can take it when you want. It will give you at least six good hours.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Good night. In the morning I’ll have another look at those bruises.”
“Thank you, David. Thank you for everything.” She smiled up at him.
When he left them alone again, Margit said, “I shouldn’t bother you with my concerns. You’ve had enough for one night. How’s Tom? Do you want me to telephone him?”
Jennifer shook her head. She looked up at Margit, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know. It’s not, you know, working out.”
Margit nodded. “It hardly ever does, does it?” She sighed.
“Margit, you’re going to be okay
We both are.”
“I had the best husband in the world for twenty-three years, and now he tells me he’s in love with a thirty-six-year-old woman—one of his patients, I might add—who’s an investment banker on Wall Street and makes more money than he does. She’s madly in love with him, he says. Now, how do you think that makes me feel?” She shook her head. “No wonder I hate this city. You know, Jennifer, I wish it had been me and not you that got mugged. I would have let that man kill me.”