In Queens, Anne lies with her robe open on the hospital examining table, wondering why she doesn’t feel more vulnerable. The doctor, young and intense, has injected the local anesthetic into her belly, and she can feel the area growing numb. The vial containing Charles’s blood sits on the nearby countertop. How dark and thick blood is.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Brody?” the doctor asks.
“Fine, thank you.”
“I’m going to put some petroleum jelly on your stomach in preparation for the ultrasound,” he says.
Anne feels the texture of the cold jelly as the nurse spreads it. Then the doctor begins to run a metal wand over her stomach. Anne looks over at the monitor and sees the embryonic life growing inside her. She reaches out and squeezes the nurse’s hand. She’s immediately embarrassed by her gesture and withdraws her hand. The nurse pats Anne’s arm.
The nurse takes the ultrasound wand from the doctor and he picks up a long needle.
“Please,” Anne says. “Be careful.”
The doctor gives her a calm smile. Dr. Halpern has assured her of his expertise. Anne determines right then and there to stick with Dr. Halpern if she decides to have the baby. You don’t have to be rich to get good medical care, she thinks, just lucky.
She turns her head away as he inserts the needle into her stomach.
“All done,” the doctor says.
It’s dark when Anne walks out onto the sidewalk and around the corner to the brightly lit commercial street. Evening shoppers are out in force and she joins the throng. She has a sudden craving for peanut butter cookies and she ducks into the nearest grocery and buys two packs, one of which she tears open and begins to devour even as she waits in line to pay.