Eleanor clutches the test results in a tight fist, the paper damp from her sweat. The womens health clinics hallway is packed, no room to push through.
Eleanor Harper! a nurse calls.
Eleanor rises and steps into the consulting room. The doctor, a fullfigured woman with tired eyes, takes the folder from her hands and scans the pages.
Sit down. She glances at the results with a detached stare.
Everything looks normal. You should have your husband examined.
Eleanor feels a chill. James? But he
***
At home, Motherinlaw Margaret chops cabbage for borscht, hacking at the board with a knife as if she were slicing through enemies.
So, dear, any news? she asks without looking up.
Im fine, Eleanor mutters, shedding her coat.
Then why? Margaret finally lifts her eyes, a flash of worry crossing them.
James needs a checkup.
The knife freezes over the board. Margaret straightens up like a taut string.
What nonsense! My son is perfectly healthy. Its your doctors who dont understand anything. Women used to give birth without any tests.
Eleanor slips into the hallway. On the sofa lie two socksone blue, one black. She automatically picks them up and tosses them into the laundry basket. After three years of marriage those mismatched socks have become a tiny symbol of their disjointed life.
James returns late.
Whats with the funeral face? he grumbles, flopping into a chair.
James, we need to talk.
What about?
She slides the papers across the table. He skims them, then shoves them onto the nightstand.
And?
You need to get checked.
Why now? James leaps up, pacing the room. Im a healthy man! Look at me!
He does look robustbroadshouldered, dark hair thick as a crows wing. Yet health isnt always visible.
Please, James
Enough! he snaps. If you dont want kids, just say so! Stop this drama with doctors!
The clatter of slippers echoes from the kitchen. Margaret lurks by the door, breathing so loudly it could be heard in every room.
I want children more than anything, Eleanor whispers.
Then why dont you have any? Are you hiding something? Maybe youve had an abortion and now cant have any?
The blow lands hard. Eleanor recoils.
How could you
How could I what? Weve been married three years and got nothing! And now these doctors tell me Im He stops, fists clenched.
The door bursts open. Margaret storms in like a bulldozer.
James, dont listen to her! Its all laziness. If she worked more, she wouldnt be hopping from doctor to doctor.
Eleanor watches James turn toward the window.
James, do you really think I
I dont know what to think, he snarls through clenched teeth. One thing I know: a healthy man never goes to the doctor.
Margaret nods triumphantly.
Youre right, son. Its not a mans job to wander hospitals.
Eleanor feels something snap inside, like a stretched wire.
Fine, she says evenly.
The next day the battle begins. Margaret picks apart every little thing: the salt overpoured, the pot not rinsed, dust on the dresser. Eleanor bites her tongue and stays silent.
Maybe you shouldnt stay at home at all? Margaret spits over dinner. Find a job instead of prying over doctors.
James chews his meatloaf without looking up.
I work, Eleanor reminds him.
Three days a week isnt work, its a hobby.
What does my job have to do with this?
Exactly! My son is healthy and you want to make him sick! When a couple cant have kids, its always the womans fault!
Eleanor stands, her legs wobbling.
Whats wrong with you? Margaret asks, surprised. You eat and then bolt?
Im tired, Eleanor whispers.
Tired? From what? Three days a week, youre not exactly a saint!
James finally lifts his eyes, a flicker of pity crossing them, but he says nothing.
That night Eleanor lies awake, listening to Jamess snore. It used to soothe herproof he was near. Now it irritates, his stubbornness suddenly glaring.
In the morning she stuffs a few dresses, her underwear and a small makeup bag into an old gym backpack.
Where are you off to? Margaret stands in the kitchen doorway, cup in hand.
To my mothers.
For how long?
I dont know.
James steps out of the bathroom, spots the backpack.
Ellie, whats that?
Its what you see.
You serious?
What else? You wont get examined, Mom blames me for everything. Why should I stay?
He leans closer, voice low:
Dont be daft. Where are you going?
To Grandma Maggies.
To that cramped cottage? Its only a few minutes away!
Its cramped, but Im not ashamed.
Margaret snorts:
Fine, let her go. Shell learn how good it was for her there.
James shoots a angry glance at his mother but says nothing.
Eleanor grabs the bag and heads for the door.
Ellie! James calls.
She turns; he stands in the hallway, hair damp from his shower, looking bewildered.
When will you be back?
When you finally see a doctor.
The door slams shut behind her.
Grandma Maggie gasps at the sight of her granddaughter with a backpack.
Ellie! Whats happened?
I argued with James. Can I stay with you?
Of course, love. Its tight, but youll manage.
The flat is tinyone bed, a table, two chairs, an ancient TVbut spotless and scented with vanilla; Maggie loves to bake.
Tell me whats wrong, Maggie says, putting the kettle on.
Eleanor pours out everything. Maggie nods, her silver hair swaying.
Oh dear Men are stubborn. Admitting somethings off feels like a death sentence to them.
Do I have to wait forever for him to finally go to a doctor?
No, you made the right choice leaving. Let him think it over.
The first days pass peacefully. Eleanor sets up a foldout cot in the corner, helps Maggie with chores. James calls now and then, but she doesnt answer.
Later Maggie complains of chest pains. An ambulance rushes her to the hospital.
Dont worry, dear, Maggie whispers as they wheel her away. Im old, things happen.
In the ward, she improves. Eleanor visits daily, bringing homecooked meals and news.
Hows James? Maggie asks one afternoon.
Nothing much. Hes shouted at the phone a couple of times.
Did you answer?
The first time, yes. The second, no. Whats the point of hearing the same rant?
Maybe he finally went to a doctor?
Unlikely.
In the bustling corridor, Eleanor nearly collides with a young doctor in a white coatblond, blueeyed, kindlooking.
Sorry, she mumbles.
No harm done. Where are you headed?
To my grandmas room, seventh ward.
Oh, Mrs. Eudora Baxter! the doctor grins. Shes a wonderful patient. Im Dr. Dennis Clarke, cardiologist.
Eleanor, she replies.
Nice to meet you. Dont worry, your grandma will be fine. Just her age He talks about Maggies condition, his hands steady, nails trimmed.
Thank you for your care, she says.
He lingers the next day, then the day after, and Eleanor starts arriving early hoping to see him again.
Ellie, the doctor wants to know if youll be in today, Maggie says with a mischievous smile.
Wants?
Yes! He asks, Hows your granddaughter doing? Hes a good guy, by the way. Single.
Eleanor blushes.
Grandma, what are you saying
What? Youre practically free. That James of yours
Im married.
Pfft!
A week later Dennis is transferred to another ward. On his last day he approaches Eleanor in the corridor.
Ill miss you, he says simply.
And I you, she admits.
He hands her a card.
If you ever need anything or just want to talk.
She takes it; their fingers brush.
Thanks.
And also Dennis hesitates. Youre very beautiful and very sad. I hope it passes someday.
Maggie is discharged and regains strength at home, though Eleanor still fears leaving her alone.
James calls now and then; sometimes she lets it ring, sometimes she hangs up. The final call ends with him shouting that shes acting like a spoiled child. She drops the phone and never picks it up again.
A month later a stranger phone rings.
Eleanor? This is Denniss mother. He gave me your number
Is something wrong?
No, just that his birthday is tomorrow and hed love to see you. Could you come?
Eleanor hesitates, but Maggie, listening at the door, waves her on.
Go on, love! When was the last time you had fun?
The birthday goes wonderfully. Dennis introduces Eleanor to his friends, is attentive but not pushy. When she leaves, he says,
Id like to see you again. May I?
Yes, she whispers.
They begin dating slowly, gently. Dennis never presses for explanations, just stays near. Sometimes Eleanor spends the night at his flat.
Then the unexpected happens: she finds out shes pregnant.
Will you marry me? Dennis asks when she tells him.
Of course, she laughs, tears of joy spilling.
A year later Eleanor pushes a stroller along a leafy lane. Dennis walks beside her, cracking jokes. Their son, Charlie, snoozes peacefully.
Ahead, James and Margaret walk together. They spot Eleanor, pause like statues.
Eleanor doesnt speed up or slow down; she walks past, head held high. In Jamess eyes she reads all the pain, regret, and understanding.
Margaret tugs at Jamess sleeve.
Come on, Jamie.
He stands still, watching the stroller, the happy face of Eleanor, the contented Dennis. He finally realizes his mistake, but its already too late.
