The Two-Family House: A Novel (8 page)

“Susan broke up with me,” he said. “She didn’t even say why or anything. She just came over to me at the end of school with all her girlfriends and said she had to tell me something. After she told me, that new kid Robert took her books and she walked home with
him
. It was like they had the whole thing planned out. I felt like an idiot.” He flung his head back on the pillow.

“Are you upset because Susan isn’t your girlfriend anymore or because you feel like she made a fool of you?”

“Both. I hate how
she
got to decide what would happen. And I had no choice.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” There were so many things Helen wanted to tell him then, things she didn’t know how to explain. Like how you couldn’t always be in control of your life and how so many things just
happened
, whether you wanted them to or not. She remembered feeling that way when her mother had died. There were no choices then either, except for what dress to wear to the funeral.

It wasn’t just tragedy that stripped you of control, Helen wanted to explain. It was the good things too. For one, you couldn’t choose who to fall in love with. Before Abe, there had been a wealthy young man from Connecticut she had met at a dance one summer, the cousin of a close family friend. He was handsome and rich, and Helen’s father said that if she married
him
, her life would be easy. She knew her father was partly right, and she wanted to like the young man. But no matter what she told herself, she came home from every date lonelier than the one before. When he proposed six weeks later, Helen said no, even though the diamond he offered was ten times the size of the one she wore now. She thought of Rose downstairs, knitting baby blankets, and knew it would be the same for both of them when the babies came: you couldn’t choose your children either, no matter how much wishing or knitting you were capable of.

*   *   *

When the phone rang, it was close to five. The boys were just returning, dripping melting snow from their coats and gloves. A trail of icy droplets followed them from the front door to the hall closet.

Helen felt better hearing Abe’s voice, but she wasn’t sure how much to tell him.

“Everything is fine,” she said. But then she couldn’t help herself. “There’s a chance Rose may be having labor pains.”

“What!”

“She didn’t want me to tell you. It’s probably too early anyway. She’s not due for weeks. She doesn’t want you and Mort to rush home.”

“We couldn’t even if we wanted to. There’s a foot of snow on the ground here, and it’s coming down fast. How’s it up there?”

“Not too bad,” she lied. “I haven’t been outside.”

“We’re not going to be able to get out of here until tomorrow morning. What should I tell Mort?”

“Don’t tell him anything. I don’t want Rose to get upset with me. Hopefully nothing will happen.”

“How are
you
feeling?”

“Me? I’m fine.” That was her second lie. The truth was she had been feeling strange all afternoon. She hadn’t been able to tolerate any food all day.

“All right. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, as early as we can.”

“Drive
slowly
.”

“I will.”

She was getting dinner ready when Mimi and Dinah knocked.

“Mommy has a stomachache,” Mimi told her, “but she said you don’t need to come down. Can we have dinner with you?”

“Of course! Boys! Mimi and Dinah are here!”

Helen settled the girls at the kitchen table with some paper and crayons while she finished getting dinner ready. Miraculously, George and Joe sat down to draw with them. It was a sweet domestic scene, even if it was only borrowed for the evening. By the time they were all fed and the kitchen was clean, Helen was exhausted.

So this is what it’s like to feed six children, she thought. She looked up at the clock—it was a few minutes past seven. Helen told Harry she was putting him in charge while she went downstairs to check on Rose.

The terrified looked on Judith’s face when she opened the door brought Helen to her senses. How could she have left Judith alone like that! For heaven’s sake, the girl was only twelve years old! With new determination, Helen walked into the bedroom to confront Rose. “I’m calling the doctor now,” she said. “This has gone on long enough.”

This time Rose didn’t argue. Her hair was wild and matted against her pillow. “All right,” she said to Helen. “Call him.”

Chapter 15

ROSE

When Helen came back from the kitchen into her bedroom, Rose knew something was wrong. Helen had been on the phone for twenty minutes. It was too long. Rose pulled the blanket up to her chest as far as it would go. “What did Dr. Blauner say?”

“I didn’t speak to him,” Helen said. “He’s not on call today. They’ve been trying to reach him, but the storm knocked out the telephone service where he lives—on Long Island somewhere.” Helen looked lost, like she didn’t know where to stand in the room.

“Well, what about Dr. Lowell? Or the other one? What’s his name again?”

“None of them are at the hospital. They went home early because of the storm.”

Rose tried to slow her breathing. “Well, there are dozens of doctors there. I’m sure they’re all good. When is the ambulance coming?”

When Helen didn’t answer, Rose pushed the blankets off of her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed toward the closet in the corner. Helen’s silence agitated her. “I can be ready in five minutes,” she jabbered. “My bag is already packed. Maybe Judith will come with me. You don’t mind if Mimi and Dinah stay with you tonight?”

“Rose—”

“Do you think Judith should stay with you? I guess I don’t mind going to the hospital alone. I’ll be fine. I know what to expect.”

Helen took her arm. “It’s not coming,” she said.

“What’s not coming?”

“The ambulance.” Rose knew the words that were going to come out of Helen’s mouth before they were spoken. But even after she heard them, Rose couldn’t believe them. She pulled her arm away.

“What do you mean, it’s not coming? That’s what ambulances do. If you need them, they have to come!” There was a roaring in Rose’s ears that wouldn’t stop. The air was thick and she felt a burning in her lungs.

“Rose,
listen
to me. More than half the ambulances are stuck on the roads. The snow is coming down too fast. The drifts are three feet high because of the wind and only getting higher. They can’t get the ambulances out. They’re sending them only for absolute emergencies.”

“This
is
an emergency!” Rose shouted.

“They say it isn’t. No one is hurt and no one is dying. They won’t send anyone. They probably wouldn’t get here even if they tried. Rose, look at me. It’s going to be fine. You can have the baby here. People do it all the time. The nurse said there’s a midwife—”

“No! I’m not having the baby here! I won’t!” She pulled her robe tight and stormed out of the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Helen ran into the hallway after her.

“To call a taxi. I’ll get a taxi to the hospital.”

“Rose, I
tried
. I swear, I tried. They’re not even answering the phones anymore. I called eight different taxi companies. No one is out on the roads.”

Rose started to cry, hot angry tears rolling down her cheeks. She let Helen lead her back to the bedroom, to the chair by the window, where she sat with her head in her hands. Her heart was beating too fast and her frustration turned into a raging wail. “How could this happen? This can’t be happening!” Judith came in then, panicked from her mother’s screams. “What’s wrong? Aunt Helen, what’s wrong with her?”

“Shh, shh.” Helen was next to Rose, patting her back, trying to calm her, but it had the opposite effect. Rose didn’t want to be comforted. She didn’t want to be brave. She wanted to pound her fists on the floor and scream at the world. And after that she wanted to ride in a shiny white ambulance to the hospital. She pushed herself up off the chair and left the bedroom again. “I’m calling the hospital
myself,
” she hissed.

“I’m telling you, I already called.”

“I don’t care what you already did!” Rose no longer recognized her own voice, but she couldn’t make herself stop screaming. Something she couldn’t name or control was fueling her fury, pushing her wrath past every boundary she had ever set for herself. When she got to the kitchen, the phone had no dial tone. She hung it up and tried again, jiggling the receiver frantically. Again and again she tried, but it was no use.

Helen and Judith came running after her, but Rose could only stare past them, stony and unblinking. “The phone is dead. I’m going to have to walk.”

Judith was aghast. “You can’t walk to the hospital. It’s almost two miles away!”

“It’s not that far.”

Helen tried to reason with her. “There’s a blizzard outside—the wind would knock you over, and the snow is up to your waist!” Helen took her by the arm and led her to the window. “Look at it out there. Rose, look. You can’t walk for two miles in that! You could get frostbite, you could fall down, you could collapse!”

Rose wouldn’t believe Helen or Judith. She wouldn’t. She had to stay focused. She had to get to the hospital to have the baby. If she had him at home and something went wrong, Mort would never speak to her again. If something happened to the baby, Mort would never, ever forgive her.

“I can do it. I’ll just bundle up.”

“
Listen
to me,” Helen pleaded. “Before the phone went dead I spoke to Dr. Blauner’s nurse. I’ve been trying to tell you. There’s a midwife they know. The nurse said she’s excellent. She delivered a baby this afternoon a few doors down from here, and she stayed there because of the storm. The nurse gave her our address. She’s going to try to get here, she’s going to try to come soon.”

Rose shook her head no. How could she make Helen understand? She had to get to the hospital. She had to have this baby in a place that smelled like antiseptic and bleach, a place that was safe and clean, with official forms to fill out and nurses in uniform. She wanted the comfort of cold metal stethoscopes pressed against her back and hospital beds with stiffly starched sheets. She needed to see doctors in white coats walking the long linoleum hallways. Nothing else would be acceptable.

“I’ve decided,” she told Helen. “I’m walking to the hospital. And you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t, Rose. I
can’t
.” Rose didn’t know if it was from anger or exhaustion, but suddenly the color went out of Helen’s face. A grimace passed over Helen’s lips and she reached backward for the wall to steady herself. For reasons Rose couldn’t comprehend in that moment, a puddle seemed to be collecting around her sister-in-law’s feet. Everything Rose knew of women and childbirth was gone from her head, and in her grief and her fear she stared, incredulous, at the wet patch on the floor. “What is that?” she wondered aloud.

Helen answered her back in as gentle a voice as she could muster under the circumstances. “Rosie,” she said, “my water just broke.”

Chapter 16

JUDITH

It always bothered Judith that she never learned the midwife’s name. When she thought about that night, whether it was a few months, ten years or twenty years later, the details were always uncertain. She should have found out the woman’s name. If she had, maybe the other features of that evening would have stayed with her more sharply. If she had, she might have been able to track the midwife down to ask what really happened. But she hadn’t.

In contrast to the time she spent in the midwife’s company, Judith remembered the hours leading up to her arrival with perfect clarity. She had a vivid mental picture of her mother, hysterical and angry, screaming about hospitals and taxis. She remembered packing pajamas and dolls for Mimi and Dinah, and bringing them upstairs so the girls would have what they needed for the sleepover with their cousins. Harry had been so unpleasant that night, speaking to her in his condescending way about how
he
was the one who should stay with their mothers and
she
was the one who should be baby-sitting. “But your mother said I have to stay with them,” she told him.

“You’re lying!” Harry screamed at her, pushing past her and rushing down the steps because he had to hear with his own ears the reason he hadn’t been chosen. If Harry had stayed, maybe he would have found out the midwife’s name, Judith thought. Maybe he would have paid more attention.

He returned a few minutes later, humbled, but still trying to act like he was in control. “My mother says I should baby-sit the others because I’m the oldest and the most responsible,” he muttered. “You can go back down now.” He waved his hand to dismiss her. It was maddening, but Judith still felt sorry for him. She knew he was as worried as she was, so she hadn’t told him about the little speech Aunt Helen had given her just half an hour earlier. “He can’t be here, Judith. This is no place for any man, let alone a thirteen-year-old boy. Men can’t handle this sort of thing. Believe me, I’ve had four children. They’re too squeamish to be helpful. They either get in everyone’s way or wind up in a corner somewhere sitting with their head between their knees. We don’t need that kind of aggravation.”

One thing about that night Judith would never forget was the snow. Before that night, she had always thought of snow as beautiful and cheerful, like something you’d see in a Currier and Ives print. Before that night, the very thought of snow had her humming the tune to “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” She would get excited about it, the snowball fights with her cousins and the snow angels they’d make. Snow meant hot chocolate with marshmallows and days off from school.

But the night of the blizzard was the most frightening of Judith’s young life. Her mother, usually so docile and kind, turned into someone she did not recognize. Her gregarious aunt became quiet and nervous. The storm, and the isolation it caused, changed them. The snow kept them apart from her father and uncle. It blocked the hospital’s ambulance routes, detained the doctors and turned two routine labors into a fearful ordeal. Judith would never see snow again without remembering that night.