I moved ahead from one puddle to another. I counted them till the number twenty-seven, looking like blots, lured by their bottomlessness. Getting close to my house, I kicked the last one with my leg and exchanged greetings with myself in its depths.
In my apartment I was met by the little dog Schnauzer, dragging his lead and his collar along the floor. I did not have a choice. I was forced to take him out to the park, inspired by the song of the doggy’s delight.
Then my beloved one called me on the phone, Svetlana, who separated herself from me for a while to proof for both of us that we can’t be separated. I burst out laughing from joy, falling on the bed-sofa, kicking with both legs to get rid of the wet footwear.
It turned out to be urgent for her to tell me that she missed me and wanted to see me, to report how she feels during that seventh month of being pregnant. And that it will be a good idea to undertake a walk along the park (where I have just been), because what can be funnier than getting wet under the long-expected Spring rain and watching how the bloomed roses cry from happiness.
How could it be possible to refuse this request. I pulled back on my shoes. Roses – it is serious. This is supposed to be respected, and to bow back to them as if the answer to the Chinese little gods. And I had to know how she feels.
So, we proceeded for the ritual of the Spring rain into the rose garden, where everything was blossoming with the early bloom and the tiny sparrows were wetting themselves, taking showers or bathing, which depended on their wish.
x x x
She said, making slower our combined pace, finding the refuge for her little head on my shoulder, quietly and unsure: “I have the bad presentments…” “No, no, no…” I howled in horror. I could not allow my little one to drag us into the wilds of human fears, where there is no mercy to the weak human beings from their imagination. I said: “Tell me everything as there is.”
It turned out that she did not sleep that night. She experienced the pain. Closer to the morning it passed but unsureness remained. Is it possible to wait furthermore without a doctor?
“No. Absolutely not”, I answered hard to eliminate any doubts in her. “We go to the hospital immediately. You must save the baby and yourself too.”
We went out of the park. I stopped the taxi and gave the driver the address of the hospital on fourteenth street, where they had the emergency room. In there, as soon as they heard about “seventh month pregnancy”, they accepted her immediately and brought the little one to the upper floors, where they had special department for problems with pregnancy. I was ordered to wait downstairs and to call ‘Information” every one hour.
I left for the boulevard? Where the rain stopped, and the sun appeared. Only now I had finally discovered the horror of what was going on. My little one, my Svetlana could die. My brain, as the open wound, radiated the flow of thoughts. Instead of going to the park we should go to the hospital immediately. But she kept silent about what she went through at night. Why did she hide this? What she was afraid of? Did she not believe that I could save her? How long have we known one another? Three years. The hour of trial came. I never asked her to marry me. That’s what it is. She did not believe in me. And spent the night in torture alone. She took everything on herself. I must make a preposition immediately. But how can I reach her? It’s too early to call her. I must wait for half an hour. And this will be only the information room. It’s unknown, did they leave the personal telephone with her? It is doubtful. Everything is supposed to be sterile there.
The wind strolled about the boulevard. I was sitting on the bench, wet after the rain, not noticing the discomfort. The tree across the pedestrian part threw off the lively shadow, trampled by the passing Chinese woman. Suddenly the wind raided, agitating the branches. Their twin shadows started dancing, embracing one another convulsively. The Chinese woman broke through their open arms to the sunny expanse to the path, leaving the shadow of the tree to the power of the wind. I was related to that tree. Thoughts in my mind rushed uncontrolled: “To save. To save my little one”.
I made a dart towards the wind, fiercely trampling down the shadows of oncoming passers-by. I raced to the information room on the first floor. Dark-skinned girls were nice as black angels: “We are waiting for the beginning of the labor. If it does not start, we suggest the Caesarean section. The fight is for the child’s life.”
I yelled: “No! Save the mother. I could not stay without the little one. Especially now when I discovered her so deeply.
“Come in a couple of hours. We shall inform the doctor about what you said now.”
In this way I was sent out of the information room. And I returned to the boulevard, into the irate wind and riotous conduct of the shadows.
What could I do? I visited the nearest coffee shop. Ordered a cup of coffee. How could I waste a couple of hours? My boots did not dry out and rubbed sore my bones. I did not give damn about it. The little one is suffering. The shadows of the trees are performing their terrifying dance.
I tried to dial the telephone number. And, oh boy! She answered. It turned out that they brought her a telephone right now. Suddenly, I lost the ability to talk. All my inside oratory vanished into thin air. I muttered something about my love, and how fair she is, and asked for her forgiveness that I left her alone for the whole life. I lied that I bought rings and now we shall never part. I heard that she was crying and sniffing, and trying to make me sure that now she is not afraid of anything. I heard that her nurse demands to finish this conversation. The clap in the telephone let me know that it is disconnected. And was surprised to feel the moisture under my eyes.
Now it was time to buy the ring. I have two hours. I rushed to Broadway in search of the jeweler’s, but then changed my mind. I stopped the cab and asked the driver to take me to forty-seventh street, where those shops were in abundance. The special center. The little one deserves the best. I did nor know the size, but it was not important, later they can adjust it.
The shop windows at the forty seventh shined brightly with the diamond light. Everything began to spin in front of my eyes. Nothing can take away my little one from me.
Timidly I walked into the big store. A security guard passed by as if by chance, and then behind me. I groped for the bank card in my pocket. Those gems here could work as the electricity illumination. What a pity that the little on is not next to me to stare at this diamond bazaar.
The old Jew at the counter stroked his silver beard examining me and calculating what could be expected from me. The veteran of this fairytale casket. Then he beckoned me to approach: “Are you looking for something special?” The old psychologist, professional in this business. My primary fear disappeared. I decided to trust him. I said: “My bride dies. I want a wonder gem, which would save her.”
He even choked, but it did not take him long to come to his senses. And he muttered: “The old Ural Mountains storyteller and the gem master Bazhov would turn around in his tomb if I am mistaken.” Then he asked: “And how much you assumed to spend?” I named the amount, and he was pleased with me.
He put a little ladder against the shelving at the wall, spent a lot of time rummaging there, studying the gems on the shelves, and finally victoriously put in front of me the gay gem of the health and happiness. It was the real jewel of eternal merriment. I could not help it but laugh with joy. The old man himself was shining with pleasure. “She will desire to live”, he said. “And that will save her.” He also started to mumble something into his beard? That sounded like a spell. And I understood that it is not supposed to be interfered with. I asked for the box.
I still had time to walk to the hospital. My feet were giving me pain, but I decided to suffer. There was hope!
In the information room they passed the telephone to me: “The doctor wants to talk to you.” Despite everything my heart clenched in expectation. The doctor said: “There are no chances to wait for the labor. We must go for a Caesarean section. With some luck the baby can survive.” I yelled so loudly that the whole information room got silent: “Yes! Yes! What are you waiting for? Run! Save them.” The doctor said: “I’ll call you. Keep the telephone close to you”. I imagined him racing along the corridors to the surgery to save my little one.
I began to pray to the whole God’s army. To everybody, who sometimes in the shadows of sleepless nights whispered for me the insane prayers.
As a somnambulist I shuffled to the boulevard, where the wind – the organizer of the street show of the shadows grew quiet, retired into itself, as in the theatre interval. I lamented: the little one can’t watch with me the theatre of the shadows. I checked for the jewelry box in my pocket. Pretty soon we should be together. If we are lucky the little baby is saved. And all together we shall go to the park to watch how the sparrows make the street fight for the bread crusts.
I lay down on the bench like a real bum, keeping the telephone in my hand not to miss the call. The moon was looking down like it was being pasted to the heaven.
I almost dropped the telephone box down when communication started to vibrate. The doctor, tired, hoarse from the effort, pronounced: “You have an amazing wife. She bared everything stoically. ‘Save the child’ she repeated, ‘don’t worry about myself’.
We are familiar with those tricks. Those heroines are becoming beautiful mothers. You have a baby girl. They are both in reanimation. She is having a slight cough caused by anesthesia. Stitches can part. It might take another surgery. Stay on alert. There will be no news till the morning. This is it. Have faith.” And he cut off the telephone.
I returned home. The moon peeped delicately from the sky. “The old man”, I called quietly. “You lied to me. They are in reanimation. They might be not able to fight the death. I will throw away your ring. Nobody knows what you spoke in a mutter into it.”
The old man did not make me wait. He revealed himself in the blue-grey night, pestering his beard, slightly burring. “Don’t become so impassioned. Not everything is lost yet”. He was teaching me, that bearded one. “She did not touch the ring yet. You did not put it on her finger. We wait”, he said. “And please, take away from your face that tragic mask. And don’t you try the new one – the grimace of pain. She must start believing that she made you happy”. In this way he told me off, this jewelry business master, the keeper of the mystery treasury on forty-seven street.
The night passed without telephone calls. And early in the morning I already appeared at the door of the info0rmation room, looking for somebody who could hand the ring with the little no0te to the little one. I made a choice in favor of one small young nurse with the face of a curious mouse. I approached her with a gallant bow: “You are my only hope”, and explained to her as simply as possible, mine and my little one’s problem. She was touched and even her eyes shined from a couple of tears. I slipped some money into the pocket of her uniform, and she ran to the upper floors.
My whole life became waiting till she jumped back into the room and whispered excitedly: “She burst into tears from happiness, and the ring is of her size, fits perfectly. You will be a wonderful husband. As for the girl – she is in the special department for babies, in the incubator. Nobody is allowed to go there. I think your wife is all right now. I am not going to congratulate you – not to endanger success as a bad sign. The doctor will call you right now”.
The ring came almost immediately: “You consider this a miracle. No second surgery is needed. What kind of a note did you send to her? She is unrecognizable. But better not say anything. I don’t believe in fairy tales. And the cough stopped. Probably she was too nervous. It happens with young mothers. The baby is taking the feeding solution.
I went out to the boulevard. There was a clap of thunder from heaven as a final optimistic finale. Rushing trees as gigantic brooms were cleaning out the sky from the dark clouds, joining in singing “hallelujah”. The shadows on the paths were bowing to the public.
The end.
11.5.23
Faina Koss - the author of number of books in Russian & English. Born in Peter during blocage, lived in Ural, last 50 years - New York.
