White Apples (37 page)

A few minutes later the doctor came in and quickly explained the situation. Vincent's condition was becoming unstable. He needed a transfusion as soon as possible or else things would become very grave. The problem was that he had an extremely rare blood type which they did not have in the hospital, nor did any of the blood banks in the city.

Right away Isabelle brightened and told him that was not a problem because she had the same blood type as Ettrich. At first the doctor was as relieved as she. Then he looked at her stomach and remembered that she was pregnant. He said it was extremely dangerous for a pregnant woman to give blood because there was a very good chance it would endanger the fetus. She did not react. He further explained why but was at once rebuffed by Isabelle who said simply, "I don't care about the risk. Use my blood." It felt to the doctor like she knew all along something like this would happen and had already thought it through. "Use my blood." It was a line he would remember a long time but never figure out whether he admired her sureness or thought her a fool.

Isabelle Neukor was not a fool. She had returned from her travels an optimist, even in this cheerless place surrounded by aus•tere machines that normally did not lend one much hope for a rosy future. If he were still alive it was very possible Bruno Mann would not have understood her thinking because never once was she con•fused by the question of either/or. Either Vincent's life or Anjo's. She thought both—first we save one and then together we raise the other. Chaos never once took part in her decision. She fully understood the risk involved in giving blood while in her condition. But it did not matter because she believed with all her being that things would work out.

When the doctor was gone she pulled a Walkman out of her bag and plugged the silver earpieces into her small ears. She turned the machine on. She was listening to a compilation tape of music she'd made in Vienna. Leonard Cohen's song "A Thousand Kisses Deep" came on. She began to hum along quietly. Vincent liked this song too. Taking his motionless hand, she pretended they were lis•tening to it together.

On the other side of the long white curtain separating his bed from Ettrich's, the other patient opened his eyes for the first time since Isabelle had reentered the room. He heard her conversation with the doctor and started smiling halfway way through. In a while, soon, he would speak to her. He would say excuse me, I know it was obnoxious, but I must admit I overheard your conversation just now with the doctor.

I happen to have the same blood type as you and would be most happy to give some to your friend if he doesn't mind an old man's blood. What he wouldn't say of course was that it was
their
blood running through his veins. He closed his eyes again and lis•tened with great pleasure to the beautiful woman humming across the space that was their home now for a little while.