Some nights I wanted to stand up and yell at him to stop. I wanted to beg him to come to bed, to hold on to me and steady my belly with his warm hands, to take some of the brunt of this discomfort onto himself. Or to do something, anything, to make me feel better. But I never did that. There was nothing real he could do for me anyway, and I bit back the urge to yell. To act upset with him. To demand something from him. What could he possibly give me that would take this awful sickness away?
And then there was the strangest thing of alclass="underline" though I had not desired a baby, and though I constantly felt ill, I already felt this burgeoning love for my own child that grew and grew inside of me day by day, in between moments of sickness: delicate and ephemeral, like a bubble.
WHEN I WAS ABOUT SIX MONTHS ALONG, KAZ CAME HOME early one evening. It was the first time I’d seen him before dark in weeks, and his sudden presence both surprised and annoyed me. It was a Wednesday, and I was trying to force down some broth before I left to go to Agata’s for class. I had spent most of the day lying on the floor of the Kaminskis’ nursery, allowing Jan and Jedrek to climb on me at will. My body was sore and heavy, and my mind longed for both the stimulation of class tonight and to be with my friends, especially Joanna who was also expecting a baby. As soon as Kaz walked in, I knew he was going to ask me not to go, and that I was going to have to muster up all my energy to argue with him.
“You’re home early,” I said, forcing a smile. I hoisted my heavy body out of the chair and stepped toward him for a quick kiss. He tasted strangely of vodka, and the mere hint of it turned my stomach. I inhaled, then exhaled slowly, hoping the little bit of broth I’d managed would stay down.
“Kadi told me she has been worried about you the last few Wednesday nights. You aren’t well enough right now to be traipsing around the city, and for illegal classes no less,” Kaz said, his words slightly slurred.
I wondered how much vodka he’d drunk and who with. But I didn’t ask because there were so many things that bothered me in what he’d just said, it was too much to also worry about how he’d said it. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply again, trying to calm myself down before I responded. I knew he might see Kadi from time to time, as he spent so much time now with her father, but the very idea of the two of them discussing me, behind my back—that is what bothered me most. Thinking they knew what was best for me, that they had talked about it even. It was infuriating. Kadi was supposed to be my friend. She was supposed to have secrets with me, not with Kaz.
I went back to the table and choked down another few spoonfuls of broth, as if to emphasize my point. I forced myself to swallow, pushing back the reflex to gag. My stomach churned, and it would be so easy to do what he wanted. Stay here, with him. But once the baby was born it would be harder to attend classes. Maybe impossible. I needed to go while I still could. “I am perfectly well,” I said, defiantly.
“Kadi said you would say that.” I didn’t like the way he said her name, like she belonged to him, not to me. But then he sighed, walked over, and kissed the top of my head. “At least let me walk you there and home tonight, all right, kochanie? You know I worry about you.”
I softened at the feel of his warm lips on my head and the sweet notion in his voice that he only wanted to care for me, only wanted what was best for me. He didn’t wish to hold me back, he only wished to keep me well and whole and safe. And besides, I hadn’t really seen him now in weeks. The very idea of a walk with my husband, on a warm spring evening—for a few moments, the swell of nausea abated.
“Yes,” I told him, feeling more agreeable than I had in a long time. “I would like that very much.”
AGATA LIVED ONLY THREE BLOCKS AWAY, BUT KAZ AND I TOOK our time. He held on to my hand, and for the beginning of our walk, my body felt lighter again, my mind freer. I was just a girl ambling on the cobblestone streets of Loksow, hopelessly in love with this beautiful mathematician. I entwined arms with him so we were walking elbow to elbow, hip to hip. The warm fresh air was good for my sickness, and as Kaz told me about the equations he was working on with Hipolit and how Hipolit was trying to help him secure a place at the university, I felt a sense of calm come over me that I hadn’t felt in a while.
“Maybe by the time the baby comes, I will have a job there, and we will have more money,” Kaz said. “You could stop working for the Kaminskis.”
It had felt a small torture these past few months chasing after those two ill-behaved boys while feeling so ill, and all I could think about each day was that I longed for the baby inside of me to be a girl and to be nothing like those raucous twins. The Kaminskis had offered that I could bring my baby to work and care for all three children. But now the idea that I might be able to stay at home and care just for my baby, and oh my, I could read and study and think all day long too? I stopped walking, stood up on my tiptoes and kissed Kaz softly on the mouth.
All at once, there was a sharp pain in my stomach, and I let go of Kaz, doubled over, and put my hands to my belly.
“Marya?” The pain was so blinding, I couldn’t see him any longer. His voice was far away, like it was traveling through water, bending and breaking and garbled. “Marya,” he said again.
My belly throbbed and pulled, and I clutched it, wanting the pain to stop. And then from somewhere very far away, I heard his voice again: “You’re bleeding.”
I blinked and tried to focus my eyes, but everything was black and dizzying, and the pain was so bad, I could not stand up, and maybe I crumpled to the ground, or maybe I didn’t, but the next sensation I understood was Kaz picking me up, carrying me, running with me back toward our apartment.
I told him, Go to Agata’s instead. She knew about the body, studying as much as she could. In another life, another country, she would’ve trained to be a doctor, like Bronia in Paris. Oh, Bronia. I suddenly wished for my sister, for the comfort of her hug and the warmth of her medical knowledge.
But maybe I didn’t tell Kaz anything. Or maybe he didn’t listen. Because he was breathing so hard, carrying me up the flight of stairs past the bakery, to our tiny apartment. And then for a moment the pain lessened, and I thought, if only I could go to sleep, everything would be okay again when I awoke.
WHEN I OPENED MY EYES AGAIN IT WAS MORNING, OR, DAYTIME. Sunlight streamed through our apartment window, making the table a yellow, glowing circle.
“Marya.” A man’s voice. But not Kaz. I was keenly aware it was not my husband, but I didn’t know who could possibly be saying my name. I blinked to focus on his face. He was older, Papa’s age, balding with a sparse gray beard. I didn’t recognize him.
Then I heard another voice, a woman: “She’s coming out of it,” the woman said, and the familiarity of her tone struck me, colder than the river in winter in Szczuki. My mother-in-law, Pani Zorawska. I had not spoken to her since that day I’d run away from my job caring for Kaz’s younger brothers and sisters, years earlier. If she were here now, I must be dying. She must’ve come here to take back her eldest son.
“No, he’s mine now,” I tried to say, but the words would not come out. My tongue was thick, too hot. Everything was fire. And pain. There was a knife in my belly, tugging me apart.
“Marya.” The unfamiliar man again. Then he explained: he was a doctor. The Zorawskis’ family doctor. Had Kaz been so worried about me, he’d asked his family for help?