Loving (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  "Well, let's take a look at you." And he did and he made an accurate guess. To confirm it they did a pregnancy test in his office, which showed that he had been right. "I'd say you're about two months pregnant, Bettina." He watched for her reaction and was touched by the broad smile. "You don't look too unhappy."

  "I'm not." She thanked him and made another appointment, although after that he said he'd have to refer her to someone else. He couldn't give her anything for the vomiting and nausea, but suddenly they didn't seem so bad, and he assured her that in another month it would probably disappear, or at least subside. She didn't even care now. It was worth it. She was going to have a baby! She was going to have Anthony's child! Suddenly even betraying Ivo didn't seem so terrible. It was worth it now. She was going to have a baby! She floated all the way home and almost raced up to the loft, and then suddenly she felt stricken. Maybe she shouldn't have run ... maybe it was bad for the baby. She came roaring into the living room like a tornado, brimming with her news, but Anthony wasn't there.

  She drank bouillon, ate some crackers, got sick again, and tried to eat again. The doctor had told her that she should try it. And she had promised that she would. For the baby. And then suddenly, as she sat there, she had an idea. She wouldn't tell Anthony. Not yet. She'd wait till Christmas. That would be her gift to him. It was only another five days away. And she giggled to herself as she thought of her secret ... she clapped her hands like a child as she thought of it ... they were going to have a baby! She could hardly wait to hear what he'd say.

  Chapter 22

  On Christmas Eve Anthony surprised her and came home with a tiny little tree. They set it on a table, and she tied it with ribbons. They made popcorn, which she didn't eat, and they each put one tiny package under the tree. It reminded them both of an old movie, and they laughed as they kissed. She opened hers first. It was an old-fashioned fountain pen, a lovely one, and he smiled at her pleasure. "To write your first play!" She hugged him and thanked him and he kissed her long and hard.

  "Now yours." She had given him a pair of silver cuff links that he had been drooling over for weeks in a nearby antique shop.

  "Bettina, you're crazy!" He was delighted and ran to change shirts so he could put them on. And with a small smile she followed him and sat down quietly on the bed.

  "Anthony?" Her voice was strangely soft as she spoke to him, and not knowing why, he turned around.

  "Yes, lover?" His eyes met hers.

  "I have another present for you."

  "Do you?" He tilted his head to one side, but neither of them moved.

  She nodded. "Yes. A very special one." And then she held out her arms to him. "Come here and sit down."

  Something very odd crawled up his spine. He came to her hesitating, with a look of anxiety in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" But she shook her head quickly and smiled.

  "No." She kissed him then, tenderly, softly, and afterward ran her fingertips across his mouth. In a whisper that only he could have heard, "We're going to have a baby, darling." And then she waited. But what she wanted never came. Instead he looked at her, frozen. It was as bad as he had thought. The possibility had crossed his mind with all her vomiting, but he had forced it out of his head. It was more than he could cope with, and it would spoil all his plans.

  "Are you kidding?" He stood up next to her and then looked down again. "No, I guess you're not." He threw the cuff links on the table and walked out of the room, and Bettina tried to fight an urge to cry and get sick all at the same time. Slowly she followed him out to the living room and watched him as he stood at the window, his back to her, and running a distracted hand through his hair.

  "Anthony?" She looked at him hesitantly, and slowly he turned around.

  "Yeah." He stared at her angrily, saying nothing for a time, and then the look of accusation came clear in his eyes. "Did you do that on purpose, Bettina?" With tears in her eyes she shook her head. She had wanted him to be so happy. She wanted it to mean something to him too. And then, never taking his eyes from hers, "Would you consider an abortion?" But this time she couldn't hold back the tears, and shaking her head, she fled the room. And when she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, he was gone.

  "Merry Christmas," she whispered to herself softly with one hand resting gently on her still flat stomach and the other wiping her ceaselessly crying eyes. She fell asleep at last at four in the morning. But Anthony never came home that night.

  He didn't return until five o'clock the next afternoon. Christmas was almost over, and for Bettina it had been ruined. She didn't ask him where he'd been. She didn't say anything. She was packing her bags. But that had been what he had feared. And it was what had brought him home. Three months into the marriage he couldn't afford to lose her. Not yet.

  "I'm sorry." He looked at her bleakly from the bedroom doorway. "You just took me by surprise."

  "So I gathered." She turned her back to him and continued to pack her bags.

  "Look, Bettina ... baby, I'm sorry." He went to her and tried to hold her but she shook him off.

  "Don't do that."

  "Look, dammit, I love you!" He turned her around to face him, and once again there were tears in her eyes.

  "Just leave me alone ... please ... Anthony, I. ..." But she couldn't go on. She wanted him so badly. Wanted to share with him the joy of his child that she found herself melting into his arms and hoping that the dreams would come true after all.

  "It's all right, baby. It's all right. I just couldn't imagine ... I'm not. ..." And then at last when her tears had subsided, they sat down. "But are we ready, Bettina?"

  She smiled valiantly through red eyes. "Sure. Why not?" For all those years with Ivo she had stifled that dream. She hadn't even known how much she wanted children. Until now. Suddenly this meant everything to her.

  "But how will we feed it?" He looked bleak, but she was thinking of her jewelry. She'd sell everything if she had to, just to take care of the child.

  "Don't worry. We'll manage. We manage now, don't we?"

  "That's not the same thing."

  And then, sighing deeply, as though it caused him pain too, he looked at her regretfully. "As much as I'd hate to do it, don't you think it would make more sense this time to have an abortion and then try again later, when we've saved some money, when we're both on our feet, when I'm not out of work?" But she was shaking her head determinedly.

  "No."

  "Bettina ... be reasonable!"

  "Goddamn it, is that all you want? An abortion?" On and on the argument raged. In the end Bettina won. But Anthony looked grim for the next two weeks. She didn't leave him, but she thought of it often, and then suddenly one day he came home radiant and gave out a loud whoop.

  She came to find him in the doorway and smiled when she saw his broad grin. "What happened to you?" But she could guess.

  "I got work!"

  "What kind of work? Tell me!" She was happy for him and followed him to the couch; suddenly their hostility of the past weeks seemed to dim. "Come on, Anthony ... tell me!"

  "I will, I will!" But for a moment he seemed too happy to talk. It was a beautiful part. "I got the lead in Sonny Boy!" He looked at her triumphantly. It was the biggest hit on Broadway.

  "On Broadway?" She looked stunned. She had recently heard a rumor that the star was leaving the show after its stellar fifteen-month run. But Anthony was shaking his head.

  "On the road, my love, on the road. But not shit towns this time, my darling. All the best cities in the States. This time we travel with a little class! No flophouses, no cockroaches. We can even stay in some decent hotels for a change." And then he told her how much they were paying him.

  "Anthony! That's fabulous." But she realized she had to tell him something then. She had noticed his "we." Regretfully she took his hand and spoke gently. "But sweetheart, I can't. ..." She hated to say it, but she had to. "I can't go along."

  "Of course you can. Don't be ridiculous. Why can't you?" He loo
ked at her nervously and stood up.

  But Bettina looked at him firmly. "No, darling. I can't. The baby. That land of traveling, would be too much."

  "Bullshit it would, Bettina. I told you, we'll be staying in decent hotels. We're going to big cities. So what the hell is your problem? Christ, it doesn't even show!" He was shouting at her, and she could see his hands shake.

  "Just because it doesn't show doesn't mean it isn't there. And it doesn't matter what kind of hotels we stay in, that's a lot of traveling."

  "Well, you'd better make up your mind to do it." He stalked across the room and looked back at her. "Because if you don't go with me, I'm still out of work."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Anthony." But she was momentarily touched. "You mean you won't go without me?"

  He paused for a long time, standing in the doorway. "I mean that they want you as assistant director, sister. They want us as a pair. And they want us together. You don't do it, they won't hire me."

  "What? But that's crazy!"

  "The producer saw us work together on the road and they think we make a good team. As it so happens their director on this one is kind of a figurehead, so he'll get the glory, but you'll be doing the work. It's not a great arrangement, but the money is good. Two fifty a week for you." But she didn't seem to care.

  "That's not the point, Anthony. I'm pregnant. Did you tell them that?"

  "Hardly." He spat the word at her.

  But now she was angry too. It was starting all over again. "I won't do it, damn you!"

  "In that case, madam"--he swept her a low bow--"allow me to thank you for destroying my career. I hope you realize"--he stood up very straight and faced her across the room with fury in his eyes--"I hope you realize that if I turn this down I may not work for years."

  "Oh, Anthony, that's not so...." There were suddenly tears in her eyes again. But she also knew that was how it sometimes worked. Turn down a good offer, and word got around. "Whose company is it?" She heard the name Voorhees and she cringed. They were one of the most hard-nosed outfits in the business. "But, darling, I can't."

  He didn't answer, he simply walked out and slammed the door. Dammit. It was a ridiculous arrangement. Why did they have to insist on having her too? She had gotten all the experience she wanted in the last seven years. Now she wanted to read every play she could get her hands on, and then she would write her own. Her in-house training was over as far as she was concerned. But Anthony was a different story. If she blew it for him, he could be out of work for a very, very long time. After thinking it over for two hours, she called the doctor and discussed the matter with him.

  "What do you think?"

  "I think you're crazy!"

  "Why? Because it would be bad for the baby?"

  "No, the baby won't care. But the way you've been feeling, can you think of anything worse than traveling from hotel room to hotel room for the next five or six months?" She nodded grimly in silent answer. "How long is the tour?"

  "I don't know. I forgot to ask."

  "Well, let's put it this way, if you can stand it, I don't see any physical reason why you shouldn't go, as long as you get as much rest as you can, eat decently, stay off your feet whenever possible, and come back to home base in"--he looked at her chart--"no more than five months. I want you back here when you're no more than seven and a half months pregnant. Any sensible obstetrician would tell you that. And I also want you to go to prenatal clinics when you're on the road. Call the biggest hospital in every town you hit and get checked once a month. Think you can handle all that?" His voice smiled at her over the phone.

  "I guess I'll have to."

  "Actually"--he sounded more gentle--"once the nausea settles down, it may not be so bad. The old vaudevillians used to do things like that. You've heard the expression 'born in a trunk'? They weren't kidding. I can think of easier ways to have a baby, but if you're sensible, it won't hurt you or the baby." With a long sigh Bettina hung up the phone. She had her answer. And four hours later Anthony had his.

  But the tour was even more exhausting than the last one, and she worked her ass off every day on the road. It turned out that the director had an ironclad contract with the company so they had to take him along, but he was an alcoholic who spent every day drinking in his room, which left everything on Bettina's shoulders. And by the second month on the road she thought she would collapse. The hotels were not nearly as lovely as Anthony had promised, the hours were endless, and with no director to lean on, and an inadequate staff, Bettina was hauling, yelling, working, running every hour of the day. She was losing weight instead of gaining, and she had constant pains in her legs. She hardly ever saw Anthony, who spent every day, when they weren't rehearsing, out playing with his friends. In particular, with a little blond model from Cleveland who was making her debut in the show. Her name was Jeannie, and by the time they had left New York City, Bettina hated her guts. It made working with her difficult, as assistant director, but Bettina forced herself to be professional. She owed it to the girl, to herself, to the company, and to Anthony.

  The second time she went to a clinic, the doctor told her where things stood. She was overworked, overwrought, and underweight, and if she didn't take things a little easier, she would lose the baby. She was almost four months pregnant. He suggested she ask her husband to help her a little, to reduce the pressure of her job. And that night after the performance she spoke to Anthony and asked him to help.

  "Why, for chrissake? You planning to go up onstage and act for me?"

  "Anthony ... be serious...."

  "I am serious. What do I care if you lose the baby? I never wanted it in the first place. Listen, lover, that baby is your kid. You don't want to lose it, find someone else to help you out." And he had walked past her then and slid a hand into Jeannie's arm. He then informed Bettina that they were going out to dinner and not to wait up. She looked at him in stupefaction. What was happening to them? Why was he doing this? Was it just because of the child? She returned to her hotel room, troubled, and for the first time in two months the urge to call Ivo was almost overwhelming. But she couldn't do that anymore. She wasn't a little girl now. And she couldn't turn to Ivo just because this was hard. But she sat alone, alternately thinking and crying. Anthony never came home. She waited in her hotel room to confront him. But at noon the next day she finally had to leave for the theater. And Jeannie was waiting for her there.

  "Looking for Anthony?" she cooed at Bettina, and Bettina felt everything inside her go taut.

  "No, I came here to work. Anything I can do for you?"

  "Yeah. Act like a lady." Jeannie hopped up on a stool, and it took all of Bettina's self-control not to knock her off.

  "I beg your pardon?" Bettina's voice was like ice.

  "You heard me, Betty."

  "The name's Bettina. And just exactly what do you mean?" Suddenly Bettina knew that there was something major happening here. What was this girl saying? And where was Anthony in all this? Bettina felt her guts ache, but she didn't waver as she looked at the pretty blond girl.

  "All right, Betty"--she had what the French call "a face to slap"--"why don't you just let Anthony do his thing now? His six months are almost up."

  "What six months?" She made it sound like a jail sentence, and Bettina looked stunned.

  "Just why do you think he married you, sweetheart? Because he was so madly in love? Hell, no, he wanted his green card, or didn't he tell you that?" Suddenly Bettina was horrified. "And you were the most likely candidate around. He knew your ex-husband would support you so he wouldn't have to worry about it. And he married you in September, right?" Bettina nodded dumbly. "Well, he only has to stay with you for six months, babe, and he gets the green card. He can get rid of you after that. And if you think he won't, you're crazy. He doesn't give a damn about you, and he doesn't want that kid you were dumb enough to get knocked up with. And let me tell you something else"--she hopped off the stool and swung one well-formed hip--"if you think you're going t
o hang on to him when we get back to New York, you're nuts."

  All day she hid in the theater, trying to concentrate on her work. And when at last Anthony arrived for the performance, she slipped into his dressing room and closed the door. She was there waiting for him when he walked into it, and fortunately he was alone. He eyed her strangely, and then walked to the closet and hung up his coat.

  "What do you want, Bettina?"

  "To talk." Her voice was firm, and he looked vague.

  "I don't have time. I have to do my makeup for the show."

  "Fine. We can talk while you do it." She pulled up a chair and sat down and he looked annoyed. "I had a little talk with your friend Jeannie today."

  "What about?" He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  "Oh, let's see. Oh ... that's right, she says that you married me just to get a green card, and that when the mandatory six months of living together are up in three weeks, then you're going to split. She also told me that you're crazy about her, more or less. She's awfully cute, darling. But is she accurate? That's what I wanted to ask you."

  "Don't be silly." He avoided her eyes and dug around in his makeup box, but Bettina was right behind him, watching him in the mirror when he raised his eyes.

  "What does that mean, Anthony?"

  "It means that she may have gotten a little carried away."

  Bettina grabbed his arm. "But that was more or less the truth, is that it? Is that what you're telling me, Anthony? Are you going to leave me after this show? Because if that's what you have in mind, I'd like to get used to the idea right now. I mean, after all"--she started to lose control of her voice and she sounded panicky--"I am having a baby and it might be nice to know if I'm going to be alone."

  But suddenly he stood up and faced her, and he was shouting as he did. "I told you not to have the fucking baby, dammit! Everything would have been perfectly simple if you'd done as I said!" But he suddenly seemed to regret what he was saying and sat down.