In the Unlikely Event

And now, today, in the rabbi’s study—sixteen years later and she looks the same, better, if that’s possible. He’s never cheated on Adela, not that he hasn’t been tempted. But this was different. He doubted he’d have the strength to resist, should she be interested. Mother of his daughter and all that.

Elizabeth Daily Post

A-BOMB DRILL FOR TIMES SQUARE

APRIL 5—The New York Civil Defense Corps announced an air-raid drill for Times Square tonight. The exercise will be programmed as if an atom bomb had exploded and incendiary and high-powered bombs had rained down on the entire amusement area.

The drill is timed for the height of pre-show congestion. Traffic will be diverted.

28

Christina

Christina didn’t feel married. She still lived at home and slept alone in her small bedroom with the faded pink floral wallpaper. She may have pressed her wedding corsage in her scrapbook, but she hadn’t annotated the page, in case somebody—her mother, Athena—got suspicious and went looking for clues. At night she’d take her wedding ring out of her jewelry box where she kept it hidden, pulling on the secret tab that lifted the black velvet false bottom. And even then she kept the real bottom covered in fabric left over from Yaya’s latest sewing project, making dolls for children who’d lost their toys in the crash. She’d lock her bedroom door, slip on the wedding band and wave her hand around in front of the mirror to see how it looked. Then she’d take it off and kiss it goodnight before hiding it again. Her wedding ring. It must be real if she had a wedding ring. Sometimes she’d say Christina McKittrick, just to see how it sounded. She’d caught herself at school, scribbling her married name in her notebook, but she always stopped in time and erased the evidence.

After school and on Saturdays she’d hurry to Dr. O’s office. Since she got her period, which she knew could have been a miscarriage, she’d been thinking about seeing a doctor, but she didn’t know any gynecologists, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask her sister to recommend one. Instead, she asked Daisy. She didn’t have to tell Daisy anything more than she needed to see a doctor for lady troubles. “I’m so irregular,” she said. “I don’t want to worry my mother. You know how Greek mothers can be.” She hated lying to Daisy. She wasn’t irregular at all—her periods came every twenty-eight days, like clockwork, until recently.

Daisy wrote down the name and phone number of a doctor and Christina set up the appointment herself. Dr. J. J. Strasser had a fancy office in Newark. There were obviously pregnant women in the waiting room, and others who weren’t, or if they were, they weren’t showing yet. Christina twirled her wedding band around on her finger. It was the first time she’d worn it in public. But before it was her turn to see the doctor she chickened out, slipping it into her change purse.

Dr. Strasser listened to her story about why she was here. “I didn’t get my period for two months and I’ve always been regular. Then I got it and it was especially heavy, with cramping.”

“Get changed and we’ll see what’s going on. Have you had a pelvic exam before, Christina?”

“No.” But she knew what was going to happen. He was going to put a speculum into her vagina. She’d read all about it last night. She was scared, but his nurse stood by her side and patted her hand. The speculum was cold and made her shiver, or maybe she shivered because she was scared.

“You’re not a virgin,” the doctor told her. “I doubt you’re going to fool anyone into believing you are, but you never know.”

“Actually, I’m married,” Christina said. “But nobody knows. We eloped. I was a virgin until then.” Technically, this wasn’t true but she wanted this doctor to like her, to treat her well.

“You girls and your secret marriages,” the doctor said. “If I had a daughter who did that I’d never forgive her.”

What kind of father can’t forgive his daughter? She was glad he wasn’t her father. She believed Baba would forgive her anything. It was Mama she was worried about.

Dr. Strasser took out the speculum and felt around inside her with his hand, pressing down, making her even more uncomfortable. The nurse told her to breathe.

“I don’t see any evidence of a miscarriage. Everything looks fine. Would you like me to fit you for a diaphragm, Mrs….”

“McKittrick,” Christina said, trying it out. “And yes, I’d like a diaphragm.” She was so glad she’d read up on her choices last night. “Do you have your husband’s approval to use birth control?”

Her husband’s approval? “Yes.”

“If you use it properly—and that means every time—you shouldn’t have to worry about being pregnant until you want to be.”

After she was dressed and seated in his office, he said, “I see you’re from Elizabeth.”

She nodded.

“Plane Crash City.”

“We don’t call it that.” She knew people who weren’t from Elizabeth did. Wasn’t there a story in the paper about letters to the editor addressed to Plane Crash City, New Jersey?

“Terrible,” he said. “A tragedy.”

“Three tragedies. And I saw two of them.”

He looked up. “That would give you more than enough anxiety to miss your period.”

“Yes.”

“Newark Airport being closed is a real pain in the neck for me. Every time I want to fly to a conference or take a vacation I’ll have to shlep into New York, all the way to LaGuardia or Idlewild.”

“I’m sorry,” Christina said.

He laughed. “You’re a nice girl, Mrs. McKittrick. Good luck in your marriage.”

“Thank you, Dr. Strasser.”

“And don’t forget. Every time.”

“What?”

“The diaphragm. It doesn’t work if you don’t use it.”

—

SHE ASKED HER PARENTS if she could invite Jack to the house, just to say hello. “He rescued all those people from the burning plane.”

Mama and Baba looked at each other.

“We’re friends.”

“They’re friends,” Baba said to Mama.

Later, when the doorbell rang, Athena answered. “Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, Athena.”

“We were in the same year at school,” Athena explained to Mama and Baba.

“And now?” Baba asked Jack. “What do you do now?”

“Now I’m an electrician, sir.”

“Your parents are living?” Mama asked.

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Demetrious.”

“Family is everything,” Mama said.

“Yes, it is,” Jack said.

“You understand our Christina is precious to us,” Baba said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And she will marry a Greek boy someday. You understand that, too?”

“I understand your wishes for your daughter, sir. And I respect them.”

“Good,” Baba said.

Mama grabbed hold of Baba’s arm, as if to steady herself.

Athena tried to hide a smile.

—

THAT NIGHT they made love using both her new diaphragm and a rubber, because she wasn’t sure she was using the diaphragm correctly. She found it complicated and messy. First you had to put in the jelly and rub it around, making sure you got enough over the rim, then you had to squeeze it together and insert it into your vagina, getting it up far enough. She’d been practicing in her room at night. When she pulled it out she had to wash it, pat it dry and store it in its case, something else she’d have to hide, or maybe Jack would keep it. Yes, that would make sense. She supposed she’d get used to it. She supposed it would get easier. They were going to be married for a long time and she didn’t want to be pregnant every year like Mrs. O’Malley’s daughter, who’d already had five babies. But she still wasn’t relaxed about going all the way. She supposed she had to give it some time.

Elizabeth Daily Post

ROSENBERGS GET PASSOVER VISIT

APRIL 9 (UPI)—Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, sentenced to die for transmitting A-bomb secrets to the Soviet Union, received a pre-Passover visit at Sing Sing prison from their 5- and 9-year-old sons. Meanwhile, following today’s denial of their last plea to the Court of Appeals, the couple’s lawyer said that he would be filing an appeal with the United States Supreme Court.

29

Miri

Twice a week Miri sent a card to Natalie at the Watchung Hills Children’s Home. Heard you were under the weather. Well, come on out! Miri wasn’t sure Natalie would find any of the cards funny. Half the time she wasn’t sure they were funny. Sometimes she’d include a little note, trying to keep it light, something about school, or about a TV show. Uncle Miltie dressed as Carmen Miranda Tuesday night. He wore a hat loaded with bananas, pineapples and grapes. My mother laughed so hard she almost didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. She’d bought all the cards at once at the Ritz Book Shop, along with a copy of Seventeenth Summer. She and Natalie had read it together, at the beginning of eighth grade, and Miri hoped when and if she had the chance to give it to her, it would remind Natalie of their friendship, because Natalie didn’t answer any of Miri’s cards or notes.