“Of course, sir.”
Edward Thompson stood up, and he was a daunting vision of respectability as he looked over Freddie’s rather dishevelled state. “I’m sure you’ll be very anxious to visit Sarah as soon as possible tomorrow morning, won’t you, Frederick?”
“Absolutely, sir.” He followed him to the front door, desperate to see him out now.
“I’ll be picking her mother up at the hospital at ten o’clock. I’m sure I’ll see you there then, won’t I?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Very well, Frederick.” He turned in the doorway and faced him for a last time. “Do we understand each other?” Very little had been said, but a great deal had been understood between them.
“I believe so, sir.”
“Thank you, Frederick. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Freddie heaved a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, and went to pour himself another Scotch before he went to bed, to think about what had happened to Sarah and the baby. He wondered what it must have been like, losing it, but didn’t want to ask himself too many questions. He knew very little about things like that, and had no desire to expand his education. He was sorry for her, and he was sure it must have been awful for her, but it was odd how little he felt about the baby, or for that matter, for Sarah. He had thought it would be so much fun to get married to her, parties all the time, someone to go out with whenever you wanted. He had never anticipated how shackled he would feel, how bored, how oppressed, how claustrophobic. There was nothing about being married he liked, not even Sarah. She was a beautiful girl, and she would have made the perfect wife for someone. She kept a beautiful home, cooked well, entertained beautifully, was intelligent and pleasant to be with, and he had even been excited by her physically at first. But now he just couldn’t even bear to think about her. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be married. And he was so relieved that she had lost the child. That would have been the icing on a cake he already knew was poisoned.
He showed up at the hospital the next morning, dutifully just before ten o’clock, so Mr. Thompson would find him there when he arrived to pick up his wife. Freddie looked somber in a dark suit and dark tie, and the truth was that he was extremely hung over. He had bought flowers for her, but she didn’t seem to care; she was lying in bed, staring out the window. She was holding her mother’s hand as he walked into the room, and for a moment he felt sorry for her. She turned her head to look at him, and without a word, tears rolled down her cheeks, and her mother quietly left the room, with a squeeze of Sarah’s hand, and a gentle touch on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Freddie,” she said softly, as she left, but she was wiser than he knew, and just from the look on his face, she already knew that he wasn’t.
“Are you mad at me?” Sarah asked him through her tears. She made no effort to get up, she just lay there. And she looked terrible. Her long, shining black hair was a tangled mess, and her face was the same color as the sheets, her lips looked almost blue. She had lost a lot of blood, and she was too weak to sit up. But all she did now was turn her face away from him, and he had no idea what to say to her.
“Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?” He moved a little closer to her, and moved her chin so that she would look at him again, but the pain in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. He wasn’t up to dealing with it, and she knew it.
“It was my fault. … I moved that stupid chest in our bedroom the other night, and … I don’t know … the doctor says these things happen ’cause they’re meant to.”
“See …” He shifted from one foot to the other, and watched her fold her hands and then unfold them, but he didn’t reach out to touch her. “Look … it’s better this way anyway. I’m twenty-four, you’re twenty, we’re not ready for a baby.”
She was silent for a long time, and then she looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re happy we lost it, aren’t you?” Her eyes bore into his until they almost caused him pain, as he tried to struggle with his headache.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re not sorry, are you?”
“I’m sorry for you.” It was true. She looked really awful.
“You never wanted this baby.”
“No, I didn’t.” He was honest with her, he felt that he at least owed her that much.
“Well, neither did I, thanks to you, and that’s probably why I lost it.” He didn’t know what to say to her, and a moment later her father came in with Jane, and Mrs. Thompson was busy making arrangements with the nurses. Sarah was going to stay for a few more days, and then she was going home to stay with her parents. And when she felt strong again, she would go back to Freddie at the apartment.
“You’re welcome to stay with us, of course.” Victoria Thompson smiled her welcome to him, but she was firm about not letting Sarah go home to the apartment with him. She wanted to keep an eye on her, and Freddie was visibly relieved that he didn’t have to.
He sent her red roses at the hospital the next day, and visited her once more, and he visited her daily during the week she stayed with her parents.
He never mentioned the baby to her. But he did his best to make conversation. He was surprised at how awkward he felt, being with her. It was as though overnight they had become strangers. The truth was that they always had been. It was just that now it was more difficult to hide it. He shared none of her grief with her. He only went to see her because he felt it his duty. And he knew her father would kill him if he didn’t make the effort.
He arrived at the Thompson house each day at noon, spent an hour with her, and then went out to have lunch with his cronies. And he very wisely never stopped in to see her in the evening. He was always worse for wear by then, and he was smart enough not to let Sarah or her parents see him. He was really sorry Sarah was so unhappy over losing the child, and she still looked dreadful. But he couldn’t bear thinking of it, or what she might expect from him emotionally, or worse yet, the prospect of another baby. It only made him drink more and run harder And by the time Sarah was ready to come home to him, he was in a downward spiral from which no one could save him. His drinking was so out of control that even some of his own drinking buddies were worried about him.
He nonetheless dutifully showed up at the Thompsons’ to take Sarah home, and the maid was waiting for them at their own apartment. Everything was clean and in order, although suddenly Sarah felt out of place there. It felt like someone else’s home and she felt like a stranger.
Freddie was a stranger there too. He had only been there to change his clothes since she’d lost the baby. He’d been out carousing every night, taking full advantage of the fact that she wasn’t there to see it. And now it was odd and very confining to have her at home again.
He spent the afternoon with her, and then told her that he had to have dinner with an old friend; he was talking to him about a job, and it was very important. He knew she wouldn’t object to it then. And she didn’t, although she was disappointed he wasn’t spending her first night at home with her. But she objected a great deal to the condition he was in when he came home at two o’clock that morning. The doorman had to help him in, and she was shocked when they rang the doorbell. Freddie was draped all over him, and he scarcely seemed to recognize her when he tried to focus on her blurred face, as the doorman assisted him into a chair in their bedroom. Freddie handed him a hundred-dollar bill, and offered profuse thanks for being a good sport and a great friend. Sarah watched in horror as Freddie made his way unsteadily to the bed and collapsed there unconscious. She stood looking at him for a long time, with tears in her eyes, before she left the room to sleep in their guest room. As she walked away from him, she felt an ache in her heart for the baby she had lost, and the husband she had never had, and never would now. She had finally understood that her marriage to Freddie would never be more than a pretense, an empty shell, and a source of endless grief and disappointment. It was a grim prospect as she slid into the guest-room bed alone, but she couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. He would never be anything more than a drunk and a playboy. And the worst of all was that she couldn’t imagine divorcing him. She couldn’t bear the thought of bringing disgrace to herself and her parents.